Speaking of fancy shmancy, outdated albeit charming customs from another century, and writers of a certain rarified, la-dee-dah circle who so perfectly and meticulously chronicled their own, special realities. . . .
We're talkin gorgeous, intricate, fin de siecle settings, complex, cossetted, sometimes tragic and always a little larger than life characters from the Gilded Age (often with not such beautiful back stories, so as to move the plot along!); see those pert horses and cozy carriages gently cantering through the city.
There are yet more intimations of elegant merriment as winter approaches. Brightly colored street lights, sparkly decorations, perhaps images of of rich, velvet opera cloaks and other mythical artifacts of long ago fashion. Such acts of nostalgia and sympathetic magic help us endure the months of cold ahead.
The mini story I am about to relate is provoked in part by the change in weather so soon upon us, and a time of year that can evoke glimpses of seasons and whole eras passed; snatches of large, ornately decorated Christmas trees as viewed through the tall windows of old, Greenwich Village-y type town houses, or movies that depict such lovely sights; a stroll on a softly lit, lightly snow covered avenue in twilight.
Ironically though, what the start of the wintry festivities here often evokes for me is, well, breakfast. A hot brew, a warm nosh, a New York bagel.
You see, when I started boiling water for the first decaf one late fall morning the other a.m. (recent snow storm and below freezing temperatures notwithstanding, still technically autumn!), as I conjured up images of Victorian Christmases, I was reminded of a clever and well written story by Henry James, even though it was not specifically about the holiday; the tale just had that feel. It's an insightful little gem about human nature entitled "The Real Thing," that like most of James' work (which often reminds me a tad of nineteenth century lush Christmases anyway for some reason), leaves its timeless imprint on our consciousness.
The narrative revolves around an aspiring artist and hopeful painter (more shades of tableau vivant!) who seeks models of suitable bearing for his portraits. A couple, man and woman, two aristocrats fallen on hard times, approach the painter with an offer of their services; he chooses them, in no small part because of his empathy for their reduced circumstances. But alas, these two are not the real thing, at least not portrait worthy-wise, and as a consequence, his work is not received as kindly or as well as he would have liked or expected (you will have to read the story to find out what happens; it's short, just do it).
Painting was an important means of visual entertainment, artistry, and historical record in those days around the turn of the century before last, a time which if truth be told was not so very long ago. We no longer engage in the exact practice of tableau vivant as described in the previous post (yes, do read that too , if you already haven't) but have modified it to our present, technological needs; and even if we did try to replicate that particular amusement in some form, it most probably would not (even in our own, more relaxed era) center around so prosaic a painted image as for example someone munching a bagel for breakfast with his or her first cup of pressed or poured over java.
But let's consider this: in the unlikely event that there ever did happen to exist a famous painting or iconic photo of a simple bagel eater, and some party goer wished to dress up as said nosher just for some old fashioned, tableau vivant fun, the subject of the painting in question might very well be seen wolfing down some goddawful tofu spread with their iconic, circular bread of shiny crust and a hole in the middle. And this choice of a tasteless soy gop in the a.m. as opposed to something genuinely creamy and good would be one of the many, many unfortunate results of our obsession with supposedly healthy foods.
To speak plainly, I forgot how good cream cheese was! Whipped cream cheese and real half & half, not that fat free, watery, thin white chemical swill that people overly concerned with their own mortality choose to pour into their organic, morally sustainable decaf.
So one day in a previous holiday season not too long ago I had some guests over, and in preparation I bought the stuff that was not tofu, just for the heck of it; when I finally sampled this delicacy, suddenly I remembered!!! It all came flooding back, the taste, the texture, the calories that no one cared about because it just added to the deliciousness. The rest is history too, as I decided once and for all it was high time to live a bit dangerously again, and have been stocking up ever since- mainly on the type with chives 'cause I love the saltiness. I may even graduate to heavy cream with my extra strong decaf one of these days. Just saying.
It's the holidays people! Good wishes and general merriment to everyone, cheers all around and live it up! Get yourself some goodies, and maybe some whipped cream too for that scoop or two of chocolate, high fat, exceptionally smooth, ultra creamy, very chocolatey ice cream, the real old fashioned kind that comes in an oversized cardboard container at the supermarket!!!
Just a thought.
