Thursday, October 29, 2009

Mini-Update (Week of October 26)

October 29 - For the young student, busy fashioning pumpkin faces over the past weeks, the very same skills that create a toothy grin may come in handy later on.

Consider the progression of the carving knife through the year-end seasons: from Halloween jack o'lanterns to Thanksgiving turkeys and Christmas hams. For this day, Hone publishes a letter that examines the importance of the carver in history and literature.



The friendly command "Come, make yourself at home!" was designed to end idleness more that it was meant to spur merriment. Originally, the idea was to jump into the fray and carve for yourself.

It wasn't always this way. During the time of royal and noble ranks, it was the custom for dinner guests to sit at the table, arranged in order of ranking. Carving started with the host, at the head of the table, and continued as it was passed down to the other end. If you were poor, hopefully you weren't too finicky by the time the roast was slid in front of you:

[T]he fastidious would be sorry to cut it, after it had been mangled by the aristocracy above, then to be washed by the tears of famishing plebians...

At first, the cook was often the carver as well. But the latter eventually carved out a niche for himself, even if the Roman philosopher Seneca didn't think much of it. "Unhappy he who lives but for this one purpose, that he may carve fat fowls with neatness!," he wrote in his Epistle the 47th.

About a century later, the Roman poet Juvenal described the occupation differently, in his Fifth Satire:

The carver, dancing round, each dish surveys
With flying knife; and, as his heart directs,
With proper gesture every fowl dissects.
A thing of so great moment to their taste
That one false slip--had surely marr'd the feast

In time, Chaucer and Shakespeare would make references and allusions to the meat-carver. Within Spanish culture, proficiency in carving was possibly just as important as bravery on the battlefield. For it could show ingenuity and acuteness, in adapting the parts and pieces to the tastes and tempers of the served:--a wing for the ponderous--seasoning for the inexperienced--a merry-thought for the melancholy!

How important is the carver? Observe her face, and listen--is she festive, or solemn? Then pay attention to the rest of the dinner guests and the mood at the table. [YB]

Image from Lex in the City's Flickr page

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Mini-Update (Week of October 12)

October 14 - Have you heard the latest buzz? For today, it's bee-master Wildman, famous throughout the west of England for his command over the honeysmiths.



On this day in 1766, Wildman demonstrated his prowess in handling bees, without harm to himself or the bees. Once provided with three stocks of bees, at the Wimbledon home of Lord Spencer in Surrey, he proceeded to show them hanging on his hat, with an empty hive in his other hand.

This was to show that he could take honey and wax without destroying the bees. [...] Then he returned into the room, and came out again with them hanging on his chin, with a very venerable beard.

He could make them enter and exit their hives, swarm in the air, and even "took them up by the handfuls, and tossed them up and down like so many peas." For the finale, he covered himself in bees and rode a horse around the grounds.

During the entire demonstration, no one at the Wimbledon estate even thought to swat at the bees. [EDBv2]

Image from ScienceDaily.com