Herban Sprawl

I read the brief blurb in the paper this morning and then checked online for more info. It’s true. The magazine that moved so many of us to experiment in the kitchen and to eat in the dining room is going to be kaput after the November issue. I’m steamed. You’d think they’d at least do the December issue for that even 12 I’d paid for!  In fact, I probably have another two years on the subscription!

Actually, I’m feeling more bereft than anything, but I’ve long felt the shift in the magazine’s ads from beautiful tableware to cars and casinos. And sometimes, it felt more like a travel magazine than a food magazine. So what went wrong? Was it really just the upscale aspect to the publication or was it that the upscale stuff wasn’t attainable by those who had aspirations? Or did the magazine no longer inspire aspirations to an elegant life?

Once upon a time, I eagerly opened the new Gourmet to the centerfold. There would be a table beautifully set with food that made my mouth water. The centerfold gave me ideas, just like it did every other reader. The ads weren’t chock-a-block with luxury vehicles and vacation resorts, but rather with beautiful china and silver and “smaller” luxuries - affordable luxuries like perfume or chocolates. Those centerfolds from the old days would make Martha Stewart look like the bush league. And none of it involved a glue gun or a trip to the craft store.

The recipes improved in terms of the layout when they started putting the ingredient list at the top, but other than that, it was still good food that stretched the willing cook’s skills. I learned a lot by making Gourmet’s recipes, and I certainly expanded my batterie de cuisine! Ads for Le Creuset had me hunting around for the elusive pots, and when a cut-rate kitchen store opened in Chicago, I finally acquired a large brown pot. Until a bad electric eye on a stove in a rented house ruined it, many a delicious concoction came from that pot.

There were two things that came to my mailbox in those days that were enough to pull me out of the doldrums - the Williams-Sonoma catalog and Gourmet. Each one sold me a lifestyle that I live today. Good dinners, the tools for making those good dinners and a creative outlet like no other.

I suspended my subscription for a while because Gourmet became more of a travel magazine than a food magazine. I got sick of endless articles about European hotels and restaurants. School teachers in Virginia can relate to how that wouldn’t blow up my skirt. In the same way, I parted company with Bon Appetit because I got sick of the endless parties with skinny hostesses making really stupid food. Photos of women “cooking” in their ubiquitous silk blouses and gold chains kind of wore out their welcome. If you can’t look at the scene and imagine any of it showing up on your own table, it’s time to rethink the need for that magazine. It didn’t float my boat.

So while I can admit to having a wandering eye, I also returned to the fold in both cases. And I have my ideas as to why Gourmet didn’t make the cut. The publishers weren’t making money from the advertising, and in this day and age, there was a shift that needed to be made and they were too slow to catch on. The demise of the English china manufacturing is a case in point. No one was hitting their marks when it came to being the trend setters, as opposed to keeping up with trends.

The future for Gourmet wasn’t with us old broads. It was with the young ones whose moms weren’t big on throwing dinner parties. They needed to be bringing them along, showing them a lifestyle of elegance that was attainable. It was all about using the good china more often, and it was all about the concept that if you equip yourself with good tools, you can make anything.

My dad never minded that I raided his tools. I generally never took anything that was expensive, opting instead for old stuff I thought he’d never miss. He laughed about it once to a friend, saying, “As long as she doesn’t find the good hammer, I don’t care what she swipes. Sooner or later she’ll want good tools and she can buy them herself, but my old shit will get ‘er started.” That was a good lesson for me. I cleared out his inventory and he bought newer and better! When I wanted to upgrade my kitchen tools, the church jumble sale reaped the benefits.

So, no fabulous place settings, no centerfold and the old elan of Gourmet got lost and then they wondered why the magazine failed to make it. One of these days, they’ll figure it out. Thank heaven there is still Fine Cooking!

Today is a day of profound sadness. The death of Senator Ted Kennedy affects me deeply as he was a man committed to the rights of women, minorities and the plain, old, regular American who is struggling to keep a job and make ends meet.

His mark was on everything I hold dear - Title IX opportunities for women, reproductive rights, education, the minimum wage, rights for the disabled, and universal health care. I am sad that he will not be alive to vote into law a bill that will guarantee Americans the right to health care. I am sad that someone who has been vilified by the right wingnuts will not be there to stand alongside the first African-American president of the United States to bring relief to so many Americans. It would definitely have been a moment of triumph for him.

He was the unlikely patriarch figure who grew into himself, as often happens with people for whom there are few expectations. He managed to get more done than either of his deified brothers, and that’s why his life is so significant. He walked the walk, and with far more working against him, he outclassed and outshined those brothers.

I grew to respect Ted Kennedy, which was in direct opposition to a staunchly Republican upbringing. I saw in him a man with flaws and a man with heart. From his hard-partying youth into his hard-partying adulthood, he finally was freed of the yoke of being another Kennedy president, and moved on with his life.

For women of an age, Ted Kennedy stands tall as a champion of our equal rights. His work on behalf of our right to privacy and choice in the matter of reproduction was never an issue in terms of his Catholicism. No bishop or cardinal would dare threaten a Kennedy with excommunication. And he played that card on our behalf.

He had the knack of bringing key moderate Republicans along to his way of thinking. I hated that he supported No Child Left Behind and all the nonsense it would represent. I understood why he did it. He hoped it would funnel money to our schools.

It was a life of privilege, but he used that to help those in need and he championed those without seats at the tables of power. For that, and for the love of his family, he will be remembered as a true mensch.

Rest in peace, Senator. You will be sorely missed.

12 August 2009

Capt’N Paul has passed away. I read his obituary in yesterday’s paper, and today the Times had a large article, complete with a picture of him as I will always remember him. Paul was my fishmonger. It was a title he relished and a role he played to the hilt. We never had such good fish in the Star City, and we flocked to his store at Towers like moths to the flame.

I walked in with my recipes and my list for my Mardi Gras dinner party, and the guys studied it and made recommendations for substitutions. Paul got me the finest and the freshest of whatever I ever needed. The guys in his store were utterly wonderful.

Paul was one of these larger than life types with the kind of buoyant energy that made his customers look forward to making a trip to his store. He was unfailingly polite. His generosity extended to recipes, jokes and general bon homme. When he was in the store, the place reverberated with his energy. It was a fun place to go and he even had a way with the pickiest of customers.

When the lease negotiations at Towers Mall stalemated, he threw in with the Heavenly Ham people and moved up the street. In terms of location, it was a disaster because it was so hard to get in and out of. I know he had to have lost a lot of the less stalwart of drivers. Nevertheless, I went in a few days after I had spoken in favor of a school board candidate at a city council meeting, and he saw it on the public access channel. I was greeted with his explosive, “Here she is! She’s a t.v. star!” Paul never failed to tease me about being on television after that and would regale other customers with the story of how he’d been relaxing with his cat and saw me on the television.

That was the other thing about Paul Corne. The man had rescued a cat and that cat was his soulmate. We had a lot of good cat tales between us and shared them with the resigned humor of all people who are owned by cats.

I went in one day and he refused to let me pay for my crab cakes. There are no crab cakes to equal his and I’d do anything to have his recipe. “You’ve been with me since I opened and I just want to say thanks,” he said. It was the only time I ever saw him serious. I had a feeling something was up.

Not long after, he closed. I was distraught. Where else could I get fish as fresh and where else could I get the advice on how to make really good suppers from that fish?

There were rumors that indicated the good Capt’N had some substance issues. I remembered a suspicious joke or two about the ever-present Solo cup in the old days, but I always figured it was just part of his persona. His family declined to give the reason for his untimely demise, and those who knew him well can probably put two and two together. I can’t, and I don’t want to. I just know that in spite of all his issues, he was a truly great purveyor and his customers loved him.

So, the Jolly Roger flies at half mast for Capt’N Paul Corne and the world has lost a good guy. Rest in peace, Paul. Make me some of your signature crab cakes when I get there?

Last week a doyenne of the Herb Society was laid to rest. In truth, we lost Bette Rogers quite a while before her demise, but it was to illness that devastated her body. It hurt to see her in a wheelchair, debilitated and unable to do for herself because she had always been such a vibrant and active lady.

When I first met Bette, I was new to growing herbs, and very new to doing anything much with them. Bette was enthusiastic and welcoming to all who were interested in the useful plants. When she served a term as president, she created committees and generally organized us. I followed her, but having a “thing” about committees, I kind of let them languish. Dumb move. Bette had it right.

And that was the thing about Bette - she was organized and she liked to pay attention to details. When Bette made up a basket for our annual auction, it wasn’t just a basket of herbal concoctions, it was an event! Each bottle or jar was done up with decorative tags or labels. If they were capped with a cork, that cork was likely dipped in parafin that had been mixed with cinnamon or other spices to give it a unique look and a pleasant scent. The items would be arranged in fluffy stuff so that everything could be shown to advantage, and then the crowning glory would be her bows.

The first time I ever saw wired ribbon used was on one of Bette’s gift baskets. She had that thing going all down the handle, in waves, wired to the handle and looking as fresh as the opening buds of a chive plant in May. It was fabulous! And that’s when I realized that presentation is everything, and that no detail is too small in making something look really special.

Bette was a motherly sort - having a large family will do that to a person. She had snow white hair and was as pretty as she could be. I don’t think being grubby was ever a possibility for her. She had some pretty definite ideas and she could be fairly stubborn. I don’t ever remember her being ugly or unkind. If anything, she was probably the one person who taught me about the cup being half full. I doubt she realized it, but her way of encouraging people was something we all followed without even thinking about it. To say she led by example is an understatement!

When Don Haney and Thom Hamlin opened Buffalo Springs Herb Farm, Bette was one of the most enthusiastic supporters of their effort. The Herb Society rallied around The Farm and Bette led the parade. She loved that place. We all did, but for Bette, there was some connection that drew her to it. She even arranged to have her daughter’s wedding at The Farm! With characteristic attention to detail - Martha Stewart had nothing on Bette - she worried the guys to death about every last little thing, changing her mind and improving and perfecting as she went along. Don and Thom bore it with their usual aplomb, and I don’t think that even at her most persnickety worst there were ever “words” among them. The guys just wouldn’t have done that. This was another example to live by.

I’m going to miss Bette, even though I’ve been missing her for a long time. Just seeing her at Herb Society in her wheelchair, caregiver fussing over her (and her fussing at the caregiver!), had a grounding effect. While there are others who are more prominent in their activities and enthusiasm, Bette had set the tone, and she somehow was the anchor for us all. Being frail wasn’t easy for her, but now she’s in that great heavenly herb garden and no doubt giving orders on moving some plants around to better advantage.

Rest in peace, Bette. May the herbs I plant in your honor live long, flourish, and maintain their shapes the way you would want them to!
Yep. That would be Bette!