Friday, February 17, 2012

Suppose it were Friday lv: then how shall you measure all things?

All those armchair hours with
Liebling and Root, Fisher and
David, Olney and Lulu, Keller
and Boulud .. until, as is al-
ways the case, your last sweet-
heart supposes a Viking is all
you need, to bring you out -
and surprises you, Christmas
morning, with your very own
equivalent of a Bentley Con-
tinental for the kitchen. Yet,
still, all you've really done,
is boil water in your Alessi
kettle, missing now its whist-
ling fuchsia wings in flight.

And so, Gérard, the grand reck-
oning is not about the morning's
reconnoitre of the strand, it's
about that gratin, that daube 
from A Room with a View, which 
fell to the cutting room floor 
because cinema couldn't hunger
for more than one thing at a
time. Even former sweethearts
can be right: there is tragedy
in abandoning hunger, and more
in being satisfied.

The coquilles St Jacques, from
your college days in Witherspoon
Street, are simply not done any-
more, and you've been wondering,
why not. Investigate. Invente,
découvre .. enivrez-vous, Le Cor-
busier calls, from your litho of
his Modulor. Find, revise, reform,
re-father, reconfigure, reclaim. 
The system of alimentation is al-
ready perfection, incarnate. But 
it does seek birth. Doesn't it, 

"Is there any coffee here?"

Charles-Édouard Jeanneret,
Le Corbusier
Lithograph, ca 1950

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