Daily Entries for the week of
Sunday, May 3
through
Saturday, May 3, 2020
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It’s Saturday, May 9, 2020
Welcome to the 762nd consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Illustration, "Duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr.
After the painting by J. Mund.
Early twentieth-century illustration of Burr (right) dueling with Hamilton
Illustrator not identified.
From a painting by J. Mund. - Lord, John, LL.D. (1902).
Beacon Lights of History. Vol. XI, "American Founders." London: James Clarke and Co Ltd. Republished as a Project Gutenberg eBook, 2004-01-08. eBbook no. 10644.
The duel took place in Weehawken, New Jersey on July 11, 1804.
Note: possibly due to artistic license and the problems of perspective and canvas size etc, the duellists are standing at an unusually short distance from each other.
However, it is known that some duels did indeed take place at very short distances such as this, though most were fought where the opponents were standing approximately 50 feet apart.
The protagonists are dressed in anachronistic 18th century dress, not the common fashion of the early 19th century.
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2.0 Commentary
Sally’s email of this date illustrates one of the types of dangerous reactions mean-spirited people perpetrate in confusing times.
Time for our leaders to speak out against vigilantism.
Prudence dictates that we follow the law ourselves but
leave law enforcement in these cases to the authorities.
Better to have a few non-conformists (law-breakers?) sprinkled about than
a series of avoidable assault and batteries that will clutter more serious policing and health care.
Meanwhile, I find the ongoing public discussions regarding reopening heartening.
The more conversations, the more ideas, the healthier our next steps to productivity.
May 18 must provide blueprints for immediate actions and
major steps forward on a weekly basis.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
Tricks and treachery are the practice of fools,
that don't have brains enough to be honest.
~Benjamin Franklin
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from Sally C:
Dear Dom,
An interesting experience yesterday while on our walk - the first day of the governor's edict regarding the wearing of face masks in public.
My husband and I walked along Main Street, with its very wide sidewalks, without face masks on. We had them with us, in the event that we entered a store. A number of individuals were out on foot, not crowded at all, with everyone maintaining proper distance. A car came down the street, both windows wide open, and the woman driving it shrieked at a man crossing on the sidewalk and at us that we f-ing idiots were in violation of the f-ing law and to put our f-ing face masks on before she called the f-ing police (which department is just a block away; they could probably hear her if any of them were outside at the time). She broadcast a bunch of other expletives that echoed from one side to the other of the main drag before she was out of earshot. I was duly impressed with her volume. It truly was remarkable.
1) She evidently was too intelligent to read the governor's edict, which clearly states outdoor face mask use "only when social distancing is not possible."
2) Had she been wearing a face mask herself, we wouldn't have been able to hear her voice so loudly and clearly. I guess she, too, was in violation of her own interpretation of the governors edict.
3) Who died and put her in charge?
4) Hurling expletives is not an ideal way to convince another of your point. Unfortunately, the deliberately ignorant often resort to that when they have nothing to back up whatever they're arguing.
Those of us who bore the brunt of this nonsense just laughed and continued about our business. All this stuff sure brings out the best in us, doesn't it? 😒
(Seriously, I know full well that it is bringing out the best in many of us. I like how we are reassessing what's really important in life. It's an ill wind that doesn't blow some good. Best thing for the loudmouth driver above is to pray for her, that she might find some of that peace to counter the obvious panic and paranoia she has succumbed to, courtesy of the 24/7 gloom-&-doom media hype.)
Go well, my friend. It's nice to see your peaceful interpretation of what goes on around you. I intend to keep on keeping my peace as well.
Sally
Blog Meister responds: Love this illustration of the dangers of vigilantism. Thank you, Sally.
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Had a satisfactory takeout from Billy Tse’s on Thursday night.
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Aaron Burr Jr. (February 6, 1756 – September 14, 1836) was an American politician and lawyer.
He was the third vice president of the United States (1801–1805), serving during President Thomas Jefferson's first term.
Burr served as a Continental Army officer in the American Revolutionary War, after which he became a successful lawyer and politician.
He was elected twice to the New York State Assembly (1784–1785, 1798–1799), was appointed Attorney General of New York (1789–1791), was chosen as a U.S. senator (1791–1797) from the State of New York, and reached the apex of his career as vice president.
In the waning months of his tenure as president of the Senate, he oversaw the 1805 impeachment trial of Supreme Court Justice Samuel Chase.
As campaign manager for the Democratic-Republican Party during the presidential election of 1800, Burr (along with his unofficial campaign team, known as the Little Band) was responsible for the first open, public political campaign in the United States.
Burr shot his political rival Alexander Hamilton in an 1804 duel, during the last full year of his single term as vice president. He was never tried for the illegal duel and all charges against him were eventually dropped, but Hamilton's death ended Burr's political career.
Burr left Washington, D.C., and traveled west seeking new opportunities, both economic and political—as well as refuge from the controversy surrounding him in the rest of the country.
His activities eventually led to his arrest on charges of treason in 1807.
He was tried and acquitted multiple times, but the fallout left him with large debts and few influential friends.
To avoid vigilante execution and further charges by the state, he left the United States for Europe.
He remained overseas until 1812, when he returned to the United States to practice law in New York City.
He spent the rest of his life there in relative obscurity.
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It’s Friday, May 8, 2020
Welcome to the 761st consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Franklin in London, 1767, painting by David Martin
Franklin in London, 1767, painting by David Martin
wearing a blue suit with elaborate gold braid and buttons, a far cry from the simple dress he affected at the French court in later years.
David Martin - The White House Historical Association
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2.0 Commentary
Two pandemic items that troubled me in the last couple of days.
The first is the reckless opening of the economies in some states.
What are they thinking?
Ooops! I don’t think that thinking is an applicable word for their actions.
And the second, the exhortation by a Rhode Island mayor that
citizens should remind those not wearing masks that they are violating the law.
That comes very close to what the law calls ‘officious intermeddling,’
a person who voluntarily, and without request or pre-existing legal duty, interjects him- or herself into the affairs of another, and then seeks compensation.
But worse.
Comments like that are an invitation to a rude retort which leads to
a ‘come back,’ putting them on the road to a public fistfight that
might lead to a higher kill rate than the virus itself.
Covid 19 causes collateral damage not anticipated by researchers.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
War is
when the government tells you who the bad guy is.
Revolution is
when you decide that for yourself.
~Benjamin Franklin
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Made a hamburger on Wednesday night.
My first.
And a hit.
The hamburger press made all the difference.
I used ½ pound of ground chuck, 85% lean.
And the yolk of an egg mixed in to help bind the burger.
I grilled it for 5 min per sides, plus an extra minute after I put the cheese on it.
For bread I used a ciabatta roll: I find ciabatta holds up well to the juicy burger.
I garnished it with lettuce, tomato, and red onion, slathering some hollandaise sauce on it.
Loved it.
But I’m tired of red meat.
For Thursday’s dinner I will use takeout: plain chop suey, salt and pepper shrimp, unagi sashimi, and salmon roe sushi. No rice.
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Exhibition Label Benjamin Franklin, in his day the most famous American in the world, was renowned for his scientific accomplishments as much as for his political and diplomatic triumphs.
Known as a "natural philosopher," as scientists were termed in the eighteenth century, Franklin was celebrated for his experiments with electricity, but
he also conducted experiments in other areas and invented devices as varied as a stove and bifocal eyeglasses.
He also reorganized and expanded the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia and
was often the conduit for correspondence between Americans and Europeans who were studying botany, chemistry, physics, and other sciences.
By the mid-1780s, when this portrait was created, Franklin was representing the new republic in France, where
he was revered for his wit and scientific knowledge.
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It’s Thursday, May 7, 2020
Welcome to the 760th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Edwin Arlington Robinson, American poet.
Original uploader was Deansfa at fr.wikipedia - Transferred from fr.wikipedia; transferred to Commons by User:Korrigan using CommonsHelper.
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2.0 Commentary
So unused to ordering takeout I’ve not yet incorporated that idiom into my routine.
But I really want to.
I like the adventure of opening the bags.
The variety.
The release from the chores of shopping and cooking and cleaning.
I have not yet plumbed the depths of the ocean of opportunities.
A creature of habit, I.
Takeout?
Chinese, sushi.
That the limit of my rare indulgence when corona first attacked.
Since corona, I’ve ordered out more often.
And to my limited repertoire I’ve added pizza.
Am investigating eatingbychloe, a vegan restaurant suitable for Grace, she a regular visitor, vegan.
Thinking one of their salads, suitable as Grace’s main course,
an easy side order to my own main course, usually red-blooded.
For Grace, I must also look into Cava and Sweetgreens,
But so far I’ve limited my purchases to restaurants having ‘pickup’ and
located on one of my many walking routes.
I must expand my opps.
Must order at least once a week; prefer twice.
For example, I want to try somebody’s goat curry.
I think there’s a Himalayan restaurant downtown Boston, a seven-minute walk from my apartment.
I’ll track it down.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.’
~A. A. Milne
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
One of our community, Gary K, sends a couple of time-passing moments: listening to Bob Dylan sing “Knocking on heaven’s door,” and watch some famous artists sing “The Weight,” along with members of The Band.”
Blog Meister responds: Both gems. Is Bob Dylan the greatest song writer America has ever produced? Using the size of his body of work and the quality of his poetry as measures.
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Time for a radical change from my diet.
Thinking Wednesday night, my own beef hamburger and Thursday night getting a pizza fron the North End’s Regina’s.
I grew up directly across the street from the Regina’s.
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"Richard Cory" is a narrative poem written by Edwin Arlington Robinson.
It was first published in 1897, as part of The Children of the Night, having been completed in July of that year; and it remains one of Robinson's most popular and anthologized poems.
The poem describes a person who is wealthy, well educated, mannerly, and admired by the people in his town. Despite all this, he takes his own life.
The composition of the poem occurred while the United States economy was still suffering from the severe depression of the Panic of 1893, during which people often subsisted on day-old bread, alluded to in the poem's focus on poverty and wealth, and foodstuffs.
The song "Richard Cory", written by Paul Simon and recorded by Simon & Garfunkel for their second studio album, Sounds of Silence, was based on this poem.
Paul McCartney and Wings performed the Simon & Garfunkel adaptation on their album Wings over America.
The punk band The Menzingers wrote a song titled "Richard Coury" which was inspired by the poem. (The difference in spelling from Cory to Coury is because the band has a personal friend whose last name is Coury.)
The American composer John Woods Duke wrote Three Poems by Edwin Arlington Robinson, which includes the full text of the poem "Richard Cory".
Martini Ranch recorded a song based on the poem on their album Holy Cow.
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It’s Wednesday, May 6, 2020
Welcome to the 759th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Cy Young
Bain News Service - This image is available from the United States Library of Congress's Prints and Photographs division under the digital ID ppmsca.18460.
Denton True "Cy" Young, head-and-shoulders portrait, facing left, wearing Boston Americans baseball team uniform.
1904 – Pitching for the Boston Americans, Cy Young (pictured) threw the first perfect game in modern professional baseball.
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2.0 Commentary
I’m excited that we’re talking about reopening.
How much longer can we continue our free fall into debt
without
suffering painful economic consequences of unknown magnitude?
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
Do something wonderful, people may imitate it.
~Albert Schweitzer
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Last night I had chicken drumsticks which, after slow-roasting, I sautéed in duck fat with bell and fresno peppers, carrots, and onions.
Cost of meat: $4.55.
Compare to a 14oz dry-aged rib-eye steak for $20.00 which I had over weekend.
But average the two: 12.50 for the protein for one person.
Typically.
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Denton True "Cy" Young (March 29, 1867 – November 4, 1955) was an American Major League Baseball (MLB) pitcher.
Born in Gilmore, Ohio, he worked on his family's farm as a youth before starting his professional baseball career.
Young entered the major leagues in 1890 with the National League's Cleveland Spiders and pitched for them until 1898.
He was then transferred to the St. Louis Cardinals franchise.
In 1901, Young jumped to the American League and played for the Boston Red Sox franchise until 1908, helping them win the 1903 World Series.
He finished his career with the Cleveland Naps and Boston Rustlers, retiring in 1911.
Young was one of the hardest-throwing pitchers in the game early in his career.
After his speed diminished, he relied more on his control and remained effective into his forties.
By the time Young retired, he had established numerous pitching records, some of which have stood for over a century.
He holds MLB records for the most career wins, with 511, along with most career innings pitched, games started, and complete games.
He led his league in wins during five seasons and pitched three no-hitters, including a perfect game.
Young was elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1937. In 1956, one year after his death, the Cy Young Award was created to honor the best pitcher in each league for each season.
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It’s Tuesday, May 5, 2020
Welcome to the 758th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Michael L. Gernhardt
NASA - http://spaceflight.nasa.gov/gallery/images/shuttle/sts-69/html/sts069-714-046.html http://www.nasa.gov/multimedia/imagegallery/image_feature_313_prt.htm
Original caption: "The pale blue Earth serves as a backdrop for astronaut Michael Gernhardt, who is attached to the Shuttle Endeavour's robot arm during a spacewalk on the STS-69 mission in 1995. Unlike earlier spacewalking astronauts, Gernhardt was able to use an electronic cuff checklist, a prototype developed for the assembly of the International Space Station."
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2.0 Commentary
More and more our society reopening.
Perhaps too quickly in some places.
Not quickly enough in others.
We know mistakes will be made on both sides.
Here in Massachusetts we have a Reopening Advisory Board that
will be assessing which businesses may reopen and
under what protocols.
For me, we should be hearing more from this group, specifically,
which businesses shall open on the 18th of this month, when
the governor’s stay-at-home order is set to expire.
I’m not aware of public hearings on the issues,
a vital part of any vetting:
so many voices wanting to he heard;
so many ideas to be weighed.
With the added benefit of reassuring the public that
the process has begun and duly progresses.
On another subject closer to home: my health.
Weight staying steady, with daily deviations reflecting better or worse choices.
I have engaged the RCAF exercises,
they now fit into my routine, and
have progressed from the lowest level of the beginner’s chart (D-) to
four levels above that, C-.
A reminder to those not exercising,
the first levels are easy enough to
provide the beginner with the confidence to go forward.
Subsequent levels are so slightly more as to generate impatience.
But stay with the program.
Take it slow.
Finally, for the last ten days, between sleep and naps,
I am getting seven hours of sleep/rest per day.
That’s wonderful for me.
I don’t care that my melatonin intake is 16mg per day.
Sleep is critical. to health.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
Wherever you turn, you can find someone who needs you.
Even if it is a little thing, do something for which there is no pay but the privilege of doing it.
~Albert Schweitzer
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from Sally C:
Dear Dom,
It pleases me immensely to know that Tommie Toner knows what real clam chowder is made with.
Please let her know that I am volunteering to eat all the shellfish she cannot. (I must admit, it wouldn’t be a hardship or anything resembling a sacrifice.)
My father taught me how to demolish a lobster thoroughly;
when he got done, there wasn’t smell enough to draw a gull.
I have since found precious nuggets of meat in places I think even he never went (right behind the eyes).
Sally
Blog Meister responds: I love Sally’s Americana. She defends New England Clam Chowder. She talks bout respecting lobsters. She gives us tips on how to eat lobster. And she’s got me looking for that piece of lobster meat.
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Sunday night I ate the same meal as Saturday night: pork chop and pasta with seasoned ricotta cheese.
Delicious Saturday and delicious Sunday, too.
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Michael L. Gernhardt (born May 4, 1956) is a NASA astronaut and bioengineer.
Before becoming an astronaut, he worked as a professional diver and project engineer on a variety of subsea oil field construction and repair projects.
A four-flight veteran, Gernhardt has logged over 43 days in space, including four spacewalks totaling 23 hours and 16 minutes.
In October 2011, he participated in the NEEMO 15 mission in the DeepWorker submersible, a small submarine used as an underwater stand-in for the Space Exploration Vehicle, which might someday be used to explore the surface of an asteroid.
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It’s Monday, May 4, 2020
Welcome to the 757th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Sadly lonely evening in Public Garden
The role of parks in our lives.
The photograph of the Public Garden in the evening, stay-at-home order having a profound effect.
Choosing the postprandial walk there to wallow in the bitter-sweetness of the moment.
Took time off from the wallow to photograph it.
Photo by Blog Meister
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2.0 Commentary
Too fast.
Too slow.
Just right.
The Goldilocks syndrome is on us.
We’ve started.
Taken the first tentative steps towards restoring our financial health.
Returning to our comfort zones.
Hoping to hell we’re not stepping into the abyss.
For me, anticipating first: the cafes.
The restaurants.
The parks, state and national; Audubon and Trustees of Reservations; and the National Wildlife Refuges.
Haircuts.
Dinner parties.
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4.0 Chuckles and Thoughts
In everyone's life,
at some time,
our inner fire goes out.
It is then burst into flame by an encounter with
another human being.
We should all be thankful for
those people who rekindle the inner spirit.
~Albert Schweitzer
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from Tommie Toner:
Hey, Dom,
Your Lobster and other crustacean and shellfish dishes make my taste buds salivate.
Nothing in the world better than a lobster cooked in wine! BUT the gods turned against me when I turned 50 - no more shellfish or crustaceans.
On the positive side, I can eat fish, I can be at the table with others eating shellfish.
If I ever have a terminal illness, I want a fried seafood platter with steamed oysters, shrimp, and lobster, fried oysters, and shrimp; raw oysters, roasted oysters, and lots of clams steamed in wine and lemon with butter on the side. In addition, I would like oyster pie and oyster stew along with clam chowder (cream not tomato).
Needless to say, I LOVE reading your grocery shopping outings, recipes, and lessons on cooking.
Tonight we are having 'Italian Soup."
This was my Jewish aunt's recipe so I am not sure it is truly Italian, but we will go with it! It consists of a whole fryer in a pot surrounded by one can of tomatoes, one can of Roe-tel, one chopped onion, one big piece of chopped celery, garlic cloves chopped (usually 4 or 5), 2 T dried oregano, a palm full of fresh parsley or about 2 T dried, 1 quart of chicken broth or stock.
Add water to cover chicken.
Cook until meat falls off bones.
Cook a pot of rice.
Serve soup over the rice in individual bowls.
Serve with a lettuce salad.
Make sure there are bone plates for diners. (Sometimes I add a half cup of red wine to the soup.)
This is my go-to soup to take to sick people during flu season.
Take care, and I love you,
tommie
Blog Meister responds: Sounds delicious. But wait! It gets better.
A follow-up email from Tommie:
Dom,I
forgot the carrot for the soup . - one large carrot chopped. I usually add 2 -3 since I love carrots.
Tommie
Blog Meister responds: Sounds even more delicious. But wait! It gets even betterer.
Another email from Tommie:
Hey, Dom,
No secret except I left off some in ingredients - 1 red pepper flakes, 1 t salt, 1 t coarse black pepper.
It is an easy supper.
To transport, I usually take soup in the pot I cook it in.
I take rice in a container (rubber maid). I think that is it.
Basically, it is simple.
One of everything unless one wants to be an artist.
Blog Meister responds: Sounds complete and delicious. Do you have my address?
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Had a delicious pork chop. On sale.
Mid-day walk
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11.0 Thumbnail
I needed a long walk to celebrate my aloneness, loneliness if I permitted it free-rein.
Thinking MT Auburn Cemetery or Revere Beach.
Then it struck me: the Charles River Esplanade!
Easy access: a simple T to Massachusetts Avenue, a walk of several blocks, and then to one of Boston’s premiere walks.
For a lovely thirty minutes of greenery, sun, river, crowds.
Happy all around me.
Can’t fail to be affected.
With hatred and envy!
Not!
Not!
Totally lovely.
Took a light drink: a Bloody Mary that stayed iced until I wanted it.
The very slight buzz complementing the mellow of the lovely walk.
Will do it again today, God willing.
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It’s Sunday, May 3, 2020
Welcome to the 757th consecutive post to the blog,
existentialautotrip.com
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1.0 Lead Picture
Photos of Au Pied de Cochon, Paris, 2007
Au Pied de Cochon, being primarily a tourist-driven business (despite the ginned-up legendary association with the Les Halles markets), is quite self-consciously designed and accoutered like a turn of the century (meaning the 19th century, turning to the 20th; the period that came to be known as “fin-de-siècle”) brasserie.
It retains the elaborate decor and expensive apparatus of a genuine classic Parisian gathering place: the maître d’ in a dinner jacket and bow tie, the wait staff in immaculate white shirts and jet black aprons folded over in half and cinched at the waist.
Text and photos by Howard Dinin. Images and text © 2020. Copyright Howard Dinin. All rights reserved.
See 11.0 Thumbnails this section for the rest of the text.
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2.0 Commentary
Today a glorious day.
A nice day for a car trip.
Ooops: I’ve saved thousands by not having a car.
Don’t have a car.
What to do unusual to avail myself of the weather?
Two quick thoughts: a T trip to Revere Beach or
A T to Harvard Square and from there, an Uber to Mt Auburn Cemetery.
Leaning to Mt. Auburn.
Quieter.
More familiar.
Better suited to wallow in the bitter-sweet cloud that has enveloped me:
the stepping back from a wonderful moment that has ended; but
not disastrously.
The birds might be a bit quiet in mid-day but I’m not going for that.
See Camus’ quote just below, pertinent to me at this moment.
Perhaps take a light gin and tonic to accentuate the moment with a light buzz.
Sounding more and more interesting.
Yeah.
But meanwhile, I must learn to take trains or buses, like to Cape Cod or Ogunquit.
Rent a car? I do hate the paperwork; restrictions; gasoline check; unfamiliarity with controls.
T to Harvard Sq works well.
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4.0 Chuckles/Thoughts
Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don’t find meaning but “steal” some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.
~Albert Camus
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5.0 Mail
We love getting mail.
Send comments to domcapossela@hotmail.com
This from our dear friend, Ashley O:
Dear Dom,
Thinking of you today. Your post regarding pork feet brought some nostalgia, very common in the heartland to see these pickled or deep fried (as most things in the Midwest tend to be).
As we march onward to May 18th we plan another celebration, my 25th birthday! Thinking a quarter life crisis might be in order, dare we attempt a trip for take-out or more risky a rental car adventure down to Cape Cod.
Thank you for bringing joy to this dreary Boston weather today.
Abundant love to you,
Ashley
Blog Meister responds: Met Ashley at Blue Bottle about a year ago and we’ve shared terrific times. Love to get culinary feedback from middle America where food is just another four-letter f-word.
Friends sharing a cook-in.
Ashley is on far right.
Photo by blog meister
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6.0 Dinner/Food/Recipes
Chilean Sea Bass, broiled/seared, was awesome on Friday night.
Made risotto again, 1/3 cup rice a nice portion for one. For the stock one needs to add to the rice, I used ¾ cup each of white wine and water in which I steamed 3 little necks for depth of taste.
I mixed cut asparagus and the clams with the rice. Lovely.
Note that the sea bass was 30% off at W Foods. The asparagus was 40% off.
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7. “Conflicted” podcast
Conflicted, by Dom Capossela, is a spiritual/fantasy/political story about a sixteen-year-old mystic-warrior conflicted internally by her self-imposed alienation from God, her spiritual wellspring, and, externally, by the forces of darkness seeking her death or ruination.
The podcasts are on the past posts and are also available on Sound Cloud, iTunes, Twitter, and Facebook.
Search: dom capossela or conflicted or both
Here’s the link:
https://soundcloud.com/user-449713331/sets/conflicted-dom-capossela
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11.0 Thumbnails
Text and accompanying photos above by Howard Dinin.
The talk of crubeens and pig’s feet were a perfect aide-memoire, almost of the Proustean sort, and reminded me of my experiences with this delicacy. I’d always thought of it as quintessentially French, but this only reveals a lingering personal bias. I think everything that is supposed to be not only really really good, but generic, as French. But it is as much “Irish” as it is “French,” I am sure, and just as likely to be typically Vietnamese or Czech, or whatever, except possibly for the entire bloc of nations that are primarily Muslim and, of course, Israel (but I wouldn’t put it past them, either, calling it something else).
In any event, at some point, it got into my head, and that happened some time before I gave myself an opportunity actually to ingest this quintessence, some time at least 13 years ago, that I should have it, and there was only one place to do it. And that is, and was, of course, the paradigmatic and venerable, not to mention eponymous, restaurant in the heart of Paris called Au Pied de Cochon. Lest there be any mistake.
And the legend of this place is well-known, as it has been in the same spot for over 70 years, originally opening, as did so many establishments servicing the local tradesmen and their customers, smack opposite what was for centuries prior to its opening, the market center for all of the city, and probably for much of the surrounding towns and suburbs. I am talking, of course, about Les Halles.
By the time I got there, or at least got to the location, Les Halles was long gone, relegated to a transport hub at the edge of the city limits, and, in fact, outside of them now. But Au Pied de Cochon was still going strong, even in the new millennium. It is closed now, as are all restaurants in Paris and the entirety of France, because of the necessary strictures of the pandemic. But one hopes, or at least I do, that their day will return, sooner than later.
Au Pied de Cochon, being primarily a tourist-driven business (despite the ginned-up legendary association with the Les Halles markets), is quite self-consciously designed and accoutered like a turn of the century (meaning the 19th century, turning to the 20th; the period that came to be known as “fin-de-siècle”) brasserie. It retains the elaborate decor and expensive apparatus of a genuine classic Parisian gathering place: the mâitre d’ in a dinner jacket and bow tie, the wait staff in immaculate white shirts and jet black aprons folded over in half and cinched at the waist. And of course there is the menu, with many classic brasserie dishes, crowned (though that speaks of the opposite, top most, level of the pig) by the house specialty of an adult pig’s trotter, in its entirety, slowly braised to tremulous tenderness, and then finished in the oven, and topped with a béarnaise sauce. That is to say, this is the current offering of the restaurant (when it’s open). Thirteen years ago, when I sought it out for my great adventure, the dish was a far more traditional plating, without many extra fixings or additional culinary exertions or the sauce (that is, sans béarnaise). The traditional dish consists essentially of boiled pig’s feet, and what I was offered was essentially a dish made more civilized, though not to the degree it is served today.
There is nothing more daunting, in dining terms, than being confronted, with no instruction of course (and I had sought none beforehand, frankly), with a platter minimally garnished containing a cooked pig’s trotter, and its juices. I won’t belabor the telling of the process entailed in consumption. Suffice it to say that close, but polite, observation of other diners, especially those who dug right in, unselfconsciously, and, with the inference they were not only veterans of the dish, but authentically French citizens, used to such a delicacy, taught me that one ate the entire thing, whether with daintiness (which was my wont; I suffered worse at that time from a lifetime habit of trying to avoid eating anything cooked with my fingers, that is, cooked food more, shall I say, appropriately consumed in civilized company with the implements of dining: the full battery, if necessary, of knives, forks, spoons, each in formal service, dedicated to a specialized task of consumption, depending on the course in multiple-course meal, and the nature of the dish being consumed), or with the opposite of daintiness. That is, to make a bacchanalian event of this one dish and eat it with gusto. At least some of the clientele (as you can see in one of the photos attached) were in the regular habit of bacchanals, insofar as such eating contributes to one’s girth.
But to be clear, let me put it this way, pied de cochon, even, if not especially, in this citadel of its preparation, is not a “formal” dish. If you relish it, in all its bits—and there are many bits in a trotter, as it turns out, including all the tiny tarsal bones of the pig, all the tendons and other portions of sinuous tissue holding the appendage together, the shank end of the bone, the skin—you end up with a platter cleaned of all, but, usually, a small mound of un-chewable bones, most the size of a small pea. I noted many plates that looked, essentially looked licked clean, before the neat mound of spherical beans of calcium is assembled near its edge. I am sure the mopping up of all surface liquids was accomplished with the aid of many bits of baguette, in order to swab one’s dish—there is always plenty of sliced baguette (or should be) and, sauce, or no sauce, that inert bit of pig anatomy sitting on the plate when first served is replete with the juices in which the meat and other digestible tissue contained therein ended up being braised.
I tried my best. But I couldn’t get down to the stage of a miniature borie (the French word for an ancient stone hut) of bones. In fact, so rich was the dish in the natural juices and the fat, I was full long before I reached the critical stage of sucking out all the goodness (or so I’m told is what it is; I have to take it on faith). Yet, I survived to tell the tale. And, in the end, as Ernest Hemingway would say, “it was good.”
I did take some photos to commemorate the visit, as it’s a quintessential, if highly touristic stop. And, I should add, it’s a full and complete and very well prepared typical brasserie menu, in case you are not an avid fan of eating animal appendages: including seafood, shellfish, and other meats.
At the door, the iconic signifier of the house specialty, a life-size brass casting of a pig’s trotter serves as the handle (the photo in the upper left). There are two levels of tables for dining, and the decor is superbly executed in the admittedly now stereotypical style of so many far more authentic (because they are that old) fin de siècle bistros and brasseries all over France.