The Last Word

Having finished The Supper of the Lamb last evening, I leave you with yet one more recommendation to get, read and relish this book. And to prod you on to such glory, a few select quotations:

The last several chapters include extended discussion about the glories of the wok and the divine nature of gas stoves. Damning electic coil stovetops, he says: “Fire is too old a friend to be forsaken for glowing rods. Perhaps I overstate my case, but it seems to me that cooking with electricity is like trying to play the piano with mittens on.” He goes on to warn against excessive cleanliness. “Properly seasoned, iron is one of the greatest cooking materials in the world, but the average American housewife has been so brainwashed that she commonly scours off the cooking surface without thinking. Woks and iron skillets should be rinsed and wiped, never washed… A sense of proportion is a saving grace.”

After an excursion through the wilds and wonders of cheese, he comes to the subject of butter. He’s showed us his cards on this subject in the past, but here he settles down for a little more work suggesting that it “is probably possible to divide the human race into butter-eaters and non-butter-eaters…” And as for himself, finds “cold butter simply irresistible.” Insisting that butter is neither a grease nor a spread but rather a “substance in its own right and justified by its own delectability… a unique and solid sauce”, he says: “Exit here, therefore, into outer darkness and weeping and gnashing of teeth, margarine and all its works.”

Finally, just a few random quotes for fun:

“A woman with her sleeves rolled up and flour on her hands is one of the most gorgeous stabilities in the world. Don’t let your family miss the sight.”

“The great astronomer Tycho Brahe never went into his observatory to study the heavens without first putting on her court robes. We should make ourselves as splendid as we can when we sit down to a great dinner.”

“May you drink well enough to drown the envy of youth in the satisfactions of maturity… May there be singing at our table before the night is done, and old broad jokes to fling at the stars and tell them we are men.”

For the ailment of heartburn, he prescribes baking soda: “A mere minute’s wait rewards you with a glowing, not to say resounding report. The relief, so long awaited, comes in force: not little by little like spies in the night, but all at once, like an army with banners shouting.”

“Dogs eat to give their bodies rest; man dines and sets his heart in motion.”