Carrot Top

And you have shared that hug with us now. Many thanks!

Yeah. He sounds like the kind of guy that *needs* the best table in the house on Valentines Day. Perhaps the best table will make him lovable. I would have just pulled out any handy prescription bottle around (even if I had to snag the manager to do so - managers always have some sort of prescription bottle on them, don't they?) and said with a deep concerned frown, "Please, sir. Take one of these till I can call the ER for you."

No, but that scenario might happen in Manhattan. Particularly the clicking part.

I don't remember that potato chip story, SB, but if you ever get to the office, do try to find it in the book and tell us about it. Please don't bother with doing any work first, just find the story, log on, and relate the tale. Could she eat just one? KR (more concerned about the story of any table than the table itself)

All influential history aside for the moment, there might be something at work here we might dub the "grass is always greener" theory? No matter where one comes from. But then again, that sounds hick-ish to say that. (P.S. Back to add "nothing against burgers, bbq, nachos, and candy". I like 'em all.)

True everywhere at some point in time, don't you think? Even with the French, or any other country's culinary culture, at some point in time. Across the world, throughout history, food exchanges and all the ideas that go along with food preparation have had sparks of inspiration through looking beyond borders. Sometimes through travel and trade, sometimes through aggression in the form of wars. What "cuisine" can be said to be pure and of a single culture, really? As far as "national" cuisines go, the idea of the nation-state and the concept of nationalism that occured during the Enlightenment might have a bearing on these concepts of static national cuisines. Boundaries drawn, the mind shaping the nation and what the idea of nation would include, with the "indigenous" food as part of this.

Well then. . .I'll prattle on, more for the purpose of getting it out of my mind and moving on to other things than any other good reason. "Let the Sky Rain Potatoes" I liked very much. Lighter than the other pieces so far, to me. Language not as dense (though personally I do enjoy density in language, often). It also is the first piece in this series that, were I a professional indexer of books, I would immediately say "Hey. Index this under 'Food'." For the other pieces, I am not so sure that 'Food' would be my first instinct as category of writing. .................................. There's some bandwidth still here if anyone has thoughts they'd like to share, I do believe.

Actually it seems to me that this whole period of food history and food ways that are being discussed have many core parts that started during the Enlightenment. But "Victorianism" is a lovely word and thought to focus upon in terms of all manners of influences of things, too. One knee-jerks to Victorianism in ways that one does not to Enlightenment.

I'm willing to admit to having at least two dogs in this race. Why not. At the moment I am edging towards agreement that French could be better, at least better than our food. I do not think they make "Fig Newton Minis" in France (or at least if they do you might want to hide to eat them, not stand proudly like we do here. . ) and most particularly they would not make them with this newfangled "100 percent whole grain" recipe which, having just tossed a handful into my mouth (unashamedly at that!) I am sitting here chewing on something that tastes like a mini Fig Newton tossed in mouse droppings.

This phrase is memorable. It is not only exceptionally nicely turned, but also glows with a classic (not garden-variety) sort of truth. ← I think it's very gracious for someone from a country with an impeccable culinary tradition to grant equality to all others, but I beg to differ, ← Seriously, it does not seem to me that Ptipois was attempting to grant equality to all others through being gracious. I think she believes what she wrote. It's a shame, darling, that you can not see the light. ( )

Interesting question. Not only about the institution one "graduates from" as indicative of the quality level or potential of that person, but also about legacy preferences. Could a stretch be made to think of French food in some cases being touted as something "more than it is" due to a sort of legacy preference based on an assorted number of things?

All is fair in love, war, and bio-engineering. There is even a cow up the road a piece from me that was recently born with two faces. Quite Shakespearean, I thought. On the other hand, we lived right up next to a farm with many steer on it, and regardless of their unhappy losses, they still bellowed in the usual way. (Hmmm. I do wonder where all those bull balls went. A nice stew for the farmer? ) (On second thought, better than a Shakepearean take on the little calf, perhaps a Macchiavellian one would be an even closer fit.)

At this point in time, where ingredients as well as people travel far and wide and quickly, the boundaries of most national food collections (trying to avoid "cuisine" and while doing to rather stodgily I sound sort of Soviet-like ) oh okay "national cuisines" have become stretched to points well beyond what anyone could have imagined even several hundred years ago. No more seasonal produce, no more reliance on what grows directly in front of one, no more reliance on native fuels or in some places set formal rituals of "this is how we do this and no other way", neccesary. Cooking techniques from so many various cultures known and practiced (stir fry in Kentucky, clay-roast hens in Alaska or wherever), and cooking tools, pots and pans and ovens of all varieties, happily understood and used halfway around the world from where they initially were developed. . .naturally, being developed at the original place due to neccesity or ease of utility. We have a far-ranging global understanding of so many things that one would think boundaries would be erased. But then of course there's football. And we know what happens with that, and know that whether we like it or not, football in various guises will always be with us. In the food world, our football games are even televised now, and the genre is expanding at an amazing pace. "Who will WIN?" the announcers cry joyously, as the chef-contenders approach the tables and knives, slyly smiling with contempt across the table at the other. ....................................... I adore tipping sacred cows, myself. A fine activity for any afternoon.

I'm reading very small bits at a time. The Curious Nose. Great title. I laughed aloud at this part near the end, where she quotes Gervaise Markham (and it's not just that it was funny in itself, but had a lot to do with where she put this and the manner she did it with. . . ) 'Of the housewife herself, Markham decided thus: "First she must be cleanly in garment and body, she must have a quick eye, a curious nose, a perfect taste, and ready ear (she must not be butter-fingered, sweet-toothed, nor faint-hearted); for the first will let everything fall, the second will consume what it should increase; and the third will lose time with too much niceness." '

I can see this in our culture. . .and my own take would be that besides the Puritanism that sits so solidly at the core of many ways our culture has been formed there would be what I think of as the "Cowboy" influence. Not real cowboys, you understand, but the sense of movement, always movement, always something "over there" to do rather than to focus in on one place, one way of doing things (which of course is how one gets better at things, with intent focus and regard. . .) I can't speak for any other Anglo-Saxon culture's food as *not* being as fine as the French or any other culture's though, for I have not lived it in situ for any extended period of time. I do believe in potential, though, and the power of faith. Faith (I'm not talking religion here, you understand) is an important thing to have or to develop if one wants to develop an excellence of any sort. So if the cultural faith in the food of one's home is not there, if the faith is placed in another's hands (as it might be said has been done with French cuisine in some of our cultures) it could be a good seed to try to plant back home instead, in whatever ways, in whatever soil happens to be there, so that whatever existed before could be grown better and perhaps truer.

Yes, I think so. It put French food on wheels, so to speak.

Favorite line in 'Greek Honey and the Hon-Zo': "Great men grew concerned over their tables, and literary gourmets became didactic." Heh heh.

( ) I only read one of the biographies, the one that her sister had a hand in producing. Apparently the other biography (which though I've not read, I've heard a good deal about so feel as if I've read it in some way) presents yet another, different, side of her life. I am not sure that I will ever read it. On the other hand, I recently stumbled across MFK's name in a book by Michael Dirda (winner of a Pulitzer Prize for Criticism himself). She is in excellent company in this book. (Book by Book, Notes on Reading and Life).

I like Ethiopian very much, regardless of what year it happens to be. Last time I was in DC I chatted up one of the Somali taxi drivers, and he recommended this place for Somali food. I didn't have time to go. You wouldn't want to grab your family and trot right over there and try it for me, would you? I'd appreciate that kindly. (Besides, you *might* start a trend for 2008! )

This phrase is memorable. It is not only exceptionally nicely turned, but also glows with a classic (not garden-variety) sort of truth.

The first sentence of 'To Begin' is: "There are two kinds of books about eating: those that try to imitate Brillat-Savarin's, and those that try not to." Midway through: "Now I am going to write a book. It will be about eating and about what to eat and about people who eat. And I shall do gymnastics by trying fall between these three fires, or by straddling them all." The final sentence of the essay is: "I serve it forth." She takes no prisoners. Oh, yes, self-indulgent. But those words would not have existed (nor would many others penned by authors laboriously placed moment after moment on page) if it were not for good old self-indulgence. ....................................... The next essay, 'When a Man Is Small', the one that jess quoted the first line from. I have a question here. Approached as 'open reading' with no preconceived expectations of content, just the title (as much as one possibly can), when you read this essay what is it that you would say you are reading *about*? It seems to me that there might be more than one answer to this question. . .

I read a bit today of MFK. To begin with, "To Begin". With all this talk of her personality and life in my mind, the first sentence appears. And what strikes me is the enormous self-assurance of the author. She comes in with a huge whoosh! strike! wham! with that very first sentence. No pansying around here. No making nice. No enticing little smiles or entreaties. It sounds to me as if she is speaking French, though it is English. There is that sort of arrogance, if that is the right word. A wonderful arrogance.

And actually, jess, your thought on a "book club" is interesting. I've never participated in such a thing before, but had decided to re-read The Art of Eating anyway. As I go through it, perhaps I'll post some notes about the experience. It would be lovely if you would like to do that, too.

It's the words that last or do not, so I'm with you on that idea, jess.

I don't know. How one reacts to her could be any number of things, including just plain personal taste. I'm curious what your mother said of her writings, though. . .