Sedulia's Quotations

Xiangzi hated Zhi Bo and lacquered his skull to use as a cup

Zhao Xiangzi hated Zhi Bo so much that he had his skull lacquered to use as a drinking vessel.

   ---From the "Assassins" chapter of Records of the Grand Historian, by Sima Qian 太史令司馬遷 (ca 145 or 135 BC–86 BC), 史記卷八十六·刺客列传第二十六

趙襄子最怨智伯,漆其头以为饮器.

Famous restaurant critic Claude Lebey dines at l'Avenue; anonymous critic "Léo Fourneau" has a different experience

(The anonymous new food critic for the French Elle magazine, writing under the pseudonym Léo Fourneau-- Leo Oven--, is dining at L'Avenue, a chic new restaurant, with instructions to remember that it is owned by one of the  main advertisers in Elle. He arrives and discovers that ordinary diners like him are on the ground floor but a reception of "les beautiful people" is happening on the floor above. His meal is not a success.)

Reading the menu, my choice fell on the club sandwich. I am a fanatic of this dish when it is done according to the artistic rules. I like the bread lightly toasted, the fondue of tomato, the smoked chicken, the gooeyness of the mayonnaise (but not too gooey), the whole thing eaten with the fingers... A childhood pleasure, no doubt. I was licking my chops in anticipation. Wearily, the maître d' informed me that, due to circumstances, the opening, the reception, the kitchen still in training, in short, for all these reasons, it would not be possible this evening to satisfy my craving for a club sandwich. Understanding, I chose another dish. Five minutes later, a magnificent club sandwich arrived at the neighboring table. I discreetly called over the maître d' to tell him of my astonishment. He leaned over to whisper in my ear, "The man we have just served is Claude Lebey, the famous restaurant critic. You understand, I hope." Oh yes, I did understand and I was especially amused about what would have happened if I had told them who I was just then. I did not, of course. The result of the rest of the dinner was as follows: while our meal stretched out in length [it took more than three hours], Claude Lebey and his guests dined in one hour, a ballet of waiters around them. They had them taste some dishes, some wines too, accompanied by many smiles while we sat neglected in our corner. At the end of the meal, the "famous restaurant critic" did not bother to ask for the bill, but left a 100-franc note [less than $20] on the table as a tip. From that day on, I began to see the profession with a different eye.

                    --Léo Fourneau in Bon Appétit, Messieurs! (2006)

A la lecture du menu, mon choix s'était arrêté sur un club sandwich. Je suis un inconditionnel de ce plat lorsqu'il est fait dans les règles de l'art. J'aime le pain légèrement toasté, le fondu de la tomate, le fumé du poulet, l'onctuosité de la mayonnaise (mais pas trop), le tout mangé avec les doigts... Un plaisir d'enfance sans doute. Je m'en pourléchais d'avance. Las, le maître d'hôtel m'informa, désolé, qu'en raison des circonstances, l'ouverture, la réception, la cuisine en rodage, bref pour toutes ces raisons il n'était pas possible ce soir-là de satisfaire ma fringale de club sandwich. Compréhensif, je choisis un autre plat. Cinq minutes plus tard, arriva sur la table voisine un magnifique club sandwich. J'appelai discrètement le maître d'hôtel pour lui faire part de mon étonnement. Il se baissa pour me glisser à l'oreille: "Le monsieur que nous venons de servir, c'est Claude Lebey, le fameux critique gastronomique. Vous comprenez, j'espère." Oh oui, je comprenais et je m'amusais surtout de la situation si, a ce moment-là, je m'étais dévoilé. Je n'en fis rien, bien entendu. Le résultat des courses fut le suivant: alors que notre repas s'étirait en longueur, Claude Lebey et ses invités dinèrent en une heure, un ballet de serveurs autour d'eux. On leur fit goûter quelques plats, quelques vins aussi, accompagnés de force sourires pendant qu'on nous délaissait dans notre coin. A la fin du repas, le "fameux critique gastronomique" se garda de demander l'addition, mais laissa sur la table un billet de 100 francs en guise de pourboire. A compter de ce jour-là, j'ai commencé à regarder la profession d'un autre oeil.

Marge Piercy: Living with the brakes on

Beauty I would suffer for

Last week a doctor told me
anemic after an operation
to eat: ordered to indulgence
given a papal dispensation to run
amok in Zabar's.
Yet I know that in
two weeks, a month I
will have in my nostrils
not the savor of rendering goosefat,
not the burnt sugar of caramel topping
the Saint-Honore cake, not the pumpernickel
bearing up the sweet butter, the sturgeon
but again the scorched wire,
burnt rubber smell
of willpower, living
with the brakes on.

I want to pass into the boudoirs
of Rubens' women. I want to dance
graceful in my tonnage like Poussin nymphs.
Those melon bellies, those vast ripening thighs,
those featherbeds of forearms, those buttocks
placid and gross as hippopotami:
how I would bend myself
to that standard of beauty, how faithfully
would consume waffles and sausage for breakfast
with croissants on the side, how dutifully
I would eat for supper the black bean soup
with madeira, followed by the fish course
the meat course, and the Bavarian cream.
Even at intervals during the day I would
suffer an occasional eclair
for the sake of appearance.

    --Marge Piercy (1936-), in Massachusetts Review, No. l, 1976.

Alix de Saint-André: The secret of a great cook, don't tell anyone, is a huge heart with a little dash of perversity

Le secret d'une grande cuisine, on ne le dira à personne, c'est un coeur énorme avec un petit bouquet de perversité.

[The secret of a great cook, don't tell anyone, is a huge heart with a little dash of perversity.]

  --Alix de Saint-André in Ma Nanie