You can question a person's accent 
Their twang of a dialect voice 
You can even enquire about wardrobes
And the garment of today's choice 

But there's one question beyond the limits
A matter of secrecy 
Never make the mistake to ask
The ingredients of a Biryani 

There's rice in there for certain
The meat is spiced by hand 
Fried onions are a golden brown
And potatoes; the colour of sand

To peas, or not to peas
Boiled eggs are certainly there
Strands of saffron soaked in water
To add a fragrant flair 

But ask the recipe and you might receive 
The look of an offended smile 
You'd think you wore shoes in the house
Or praised someone else's child

It is a hand me down of legends 
From hand to hand it fell
Pages of paper could not carry the measure
For the cooking is done by smell 

Spices sprinkled quite liberally 
The eye saw beyond plain sight
Hands stirred and layered the pot
Until it was all just right 

So, enjoy proudly and proclaim your delight 
In the sounds of the satisfied eater
For legend says one who doesn't 
Eats nothing but left-over pizza.