The title tells us who we're dealing with: a chef, and he's in love. But the poem quickly shows that the object of his love isn't a person. It's his oven. The oven "is calling to him," and the comparison that follows is the funniest and strangest part: it calls the way "the clamor of things" calls to a thief. To a thief, every object seems to be shouting, "Take me!" For the chef, the oven has that same irresistible pull.
The poem ends on a small, cozy image: "a well-done supper / in bed." It's hard to say exactly what this means, but it suggests comfort, appetite, and maybe a bit of private indulgence, with food and romance blurring together. The mood is playful and warm, with a hint of mischief from the thief comparison. The speaker seems amused by the chef's obsession, treating a passion for cooking as if it were a full-blown love affair.