>Return-Path: BRobinson@accolade.com >From: Bill Robinson>Subject: Philosophy of Cooking >Date: Mon, 28 Oct 96 15:06:00 PST > > "Jean-Paul Sartre's Cooking Diary": > >October 3 Spoke with Camus today about my cookbook. Though he has >never actually eaten, he gave me much encouragement. I rushed home >immediately to begin work. How excited I am! I have begun my formula >for a Denver omelet. > >October 4 Still working on the omelet. There have been stumbling >blocks. I keep creating omelets one after another, like soldiers >marching into the sea, but each one seems empty, hollow, like stone. >I want to create an omelet that expresses the meaninglessness of >existence, and instead they taste like cheese. I look at them on the >plate, but they do not look back. Tried eating them with the lights >off. It did not help. Malraux suggested paprika. > >October 6 I have realized that the traditional omelet form (eggs and >cheese) >is bourgeois. Today I tried making one out of cigarette, some coffee, and >four tiny stones. I fed it to Malraux, who puked. I am >encouraged, but my journey is still long. > >October 10 I find myself trying ever more radical interpretations of >traditional dishes, in an effort to somehow express the void I feel >so acutely. Today I tried this recipe: > > Tuna Casserole > > Ingredients: 1 large casserole dish > > Place the casserole dish in a cold oven. Place a chair facing the > oven and sit in it forever. Think about how hungry you are. When > night falls, do not turn on the light. > >While a void is expressed in this recipe, I am struck by its >inapplicability to the bourgeois lifestyle. How can the eater >recognize that the food denied him is a tuna casserole and not some >other dish? I am becoming more and more frustated. > >October 25 I have been forced to abandon the project of producing an >entire cookbook. Rather, I now seek a single recipe which will, by >itself, embody the plight of man in a world ruled by an unfeeling >God, as well as providing the eater with at least one ingredient from >each of the four basic food groups. To this end, I purchased six >hundred pounds of foodstuffs from the corner grocery and locked >myself in the kitchen, refusing to admit anyone. Afte several weeks >of work, I produced a recipe calling for two eggs, half a cup of >flour, four tons of beef, and a leek. While this is a start, I am >afraid I still have much work ahead. > >November 15 Today I made a Black Forest cake out of five pounds of >cherries and a live beaver, challenging the very definition of the >word cake. I was very pleased. Malraux said he admired it greatly, >but could not stay for dessert. Still, I feel that this may be my >most profound achievement yet, and have resolved to enter it in the >Betty Crocker Bake-Off. > >November 30 Today was the day of the Bake-Off. Alas, things did not go as >I >had hoped. During the judging, the beaver became agitated and >bit Betty Crocker on the wrist. The beaver's powerful jaws are >capable of felling blue spruce in less than ten minutes and proved, >needless to say, more than a match for the tender limbs of America's >favorite homemaker. I only got third place. Moreover, I am now the >subject of a rather nasty lawsuit. > >December 1 I have been gaining twenty-five pounds a week for two >months, and I am now experiencing light tides. It is stupid to be so >fat. My pain and ultimate solitude are still as authentic as they >were when I was thin, but seem to impress girls far less. From now >on, I will live on cigarettes and black coffee > > Gnarbaflex: A state when you are in one of the holes in the swiss cheese of expectation, when you enter an unforeseen and unexpected dimension. - - YE COZMACK DICTIONERRY