i have the absinthe. she sits on my sideboard, green and gorgeous. what a pretty bottle. i fully expect to not enjoy her insides and then she can remain, a guest in my house, for a couple of decades. people will notice her, and comment on her.
tastes like shit
full report sunday night, monday at latest.
but to other matters.
i was browsing through my current bible, larousse gastronomique. this is like part dictionary, part encyclopaedia and part recipe book. my copy here was published in 1966, but the original was 1961.
it is seriously funky, with black and white plates and the most amazing information on all things french food. i got it from one of my favourite second-hand bookshops, down at sorrento. dahling. you know, i think a whole heap of richo fucks emptied out their bookshelves of GOLD, pure GOLD, while they were renovating and buying in, and tanning and filling their summer closets with espadrilles and caftans.
i love my larousse gastronomique.
it has snippets and even poetry.
witness, a most fitting ode to brie:
Now then, let us shout with all our might:
Blessed be the land of Brie.
Pont-l'Eveque, get thee behind us!
Auvergne and Milan, out of our sight.
Brie alone deserves that we
Should record her praises in letters of gold.
Gold, I say, and with good reason, Since it is with gold that one must compare
This cheese to which I now pay homage.
It is as yellow as the gold worshipped by man,
But without its anxiety
For one has only to press it with one's fingers
For it to spit its side with laughter
And run over with fat.
Why then, is it not endless
As indeed its circular form is endless
As indeed its circular form is endless?
Why must its full moon, eternally appetizing,
Wane to a crescent?. . .
now, before anyone says this is cheesy, i love it because it's pure, unadulterated deification of a most yummo cheese, and i love anything that is that passionate.
write a poem to a cheese. why not.