Alchemy In The Afternoon

Alchemy is a chemical transformation of matter through air, earth, fire and water, a process characterized by melanosis (blackening), leukosis (whitening), xanthosis (yellowing) and isis (reddening), also known as nigredo (chaos), albedo (release, daybreak) and rubedo (intensity, sunrise); which means through the language of the opus magnum, alchemy is to cook, and specifically for these … Continue reading Alchemy In The Afternoon

My Tongue As A Sandwich With A Glass of Burgundy

Miley Cyrus has a famous tongue.  So do Mick Jagger and Albert Einstein. Merriam-Webster defines a tongue as a tapering flame, long narrow strip of land projecting into a body of water, a moveable pin in a buckle.  François Rabelais has Pantagruel cover an army with his tongue to protect them from a rain storm. … Continue reading My Tongue As A Sandwich With A Glass of Burgundy

Roast Bone Marrow And Parsley Salad

There are many sacred texts in the world: the Bhagavad Gita, Genesis and Exodus, The Gospel According to John, the Upanishads.  In the secular realm we might nod to the Constitution, essays of Montaigne, Shakespeare’s King Lear.  Bach’s Cantatas outwardly claim their sacred nature, while for me nothing makes a walk more holy than listening … Continue reading Roast Bone Marrow And Parsley Salad

The Dinner Party: Do I Amputate, Change Out, Or Kill The Guests?

Jules-Alexandre Grün knew how to paint a dinner party.  All the light, all the wealth, all the joy.   Such a beautiful nineteen hundred and eleven, what could go wrong?   I think of the word hospitality.  Here’s a Walter Arnold photograph of the old Marine Hospital in the French Fort area of Memphis, Tennessee. … Continue reading The Dinner Party: Do I Amputate, Change Out, Or Kill The Guests?

“Wait till the honeying of the lune, love! Die eve, little eve, die!” Telmetale of Stobhach Gaelach, Guinness and Lady Galadriel.

A few words from Finnegans Wake and we’re off.  Last night, Bloomsday evening fell, along with the one hundredth anniversary of Dubliners reaching the world, the amazing short story collection from Mr. Joyce featuring “The Dead,” and its mesmerizing final lines, “His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and … Continue reading “Wait till the honeying of the lune, love! Die eve, little eve, die!” Telmetale of Stobhach Gaelach, Guinness and Lady Galadriel.