As time passes, and we leave the sheltered anchorages of our youth, lurking behind the cover provided by a couple of exam certificates, and assembled competences, a bungler sometimes lurks within us, wondering if its safe to come out . It only does so in the presence of loved ones and the more perceptive. Largely it remains a hidden presence covered by a neatly ironed jumper and a glowing career in the dried fruit industry.
Despite this, over the centuries, we have achieved moments of weightless brilliance. The wheel stands out as an invention which has gathered speed with passing time. What I mean by that is I am not quite sure what I mean, but hopefully you have caught the general drift. As soon as I understand my own sentence I will let you know what it means. That is the essence of wisdom. Regarding the wheel, every generation has used it, and we all enjoy the benefits.
Other landmark moments bear witness to our inventive brilliance. The “Creme Brulee springs to mind as an example of our ability to produce the finest food music from simple ingredients
Stuff the wheel. Who needs it now we have the internet. But the creme brulee. Please. Whats the matter with you. I don’t know when man first invented this simple unsung masterpiece but it is central to my enjoyment of life. My concern is that younger chefs and upstarts can’t leave it alone. Now, when I read “Creme Brule with blueberries/summer fruits/fragments of the Berlin Wall and other variations on a theme by genius I start to mutter about gilding the lily, and lament man’s desire to tinker with perfection. Sadly, even though I know it will involve a period of insanity, when I see one on the menu, and regardless of blasphemous variations, I cannot resist ordering one.
My family wince. No other meal, or experience can do this to me, with the possible exception of the sausage, but the creme brule provides food for my bouts of madness. I take a mouthful, grimace and start to mutter. Gradually the sounds of my discontent become louder. Now there is no stopping me. At the end of the meal I smile at the waiter or waitress in my normal vacant, “we’ve all been born so we might as put up with it” kind of way, but then begin analysing the catastrophe I have just eaten.
” I mean why add the fruit. Its like drowning out a violin solo with a trombone” The waiters are normally very patient. My partner, already wishing I had ordered the rhubarb and cyanide pie, sits back in helpless resignation until the fit passes, Finally I slump back and apologise to my unfortunate victim. ” I can get a bit carried away” I explain. I would write more but I have no wish to gild the lily. Have I mentioned sausages..