“Sometimes a wild god comes to the table. He is awkward and does not know the ways Of porcelain, of fork and mustard and silver. His voice makes vinegar from wine.” So begins Tom Hiron‘s darkly rich and sublimely satisfying poem. I stumbled across his poem a couple of years ago, and promptly printed a copy to go in my cookbook. I pasted it next to the beef, mushroom and red wine recipe – I decided a long time ago that good poetry and good food make excellent bedfellows. So