So It's 10:46 pm on sunday night.
My sis and I are sitting in her bedroom listening to NPR's "This American Life". This is a noticeably weird episode. It is about the President of France in the early nineties, François Mitterrand, and his last meal. If any of you have spent any time around me, you know that for a long time I used to ask people what their last meal would be, cook it with them, and then send them a photo of it 6 months later. I did this a lot when I lived in Boston. MOST people (with a few exceptions) fall into three categories:
1) Their mom made it for them their whole life
2) It was a treat of exquisite value (lobster)
3) it was something they had every single day (cereal and fruit for a few)
weird, right? Doing this project with several friends, I ate scrambled eggs, fried chicken, Portugese eggs and cod, and PBR and cigarettes. hmm.
But I digress.
So this most informative episode talks about the former President of Frances' last cravings.
One of those things, ironically, being a small, thumb-sized bird called Orelin, which symbolized the French Soul throughout history.
You see, this bird is illegal to cook. It is an overfed, small songbird that has been known to drown in cognac. Hence why the French are drawn to it.
So I wondered.... what food would symbolize the artist soul?? A chicken? ha! A bull?
Maybe a small plate of something "exotic but also simple? Italian? " (my sis) A good Roma tomato? Good when ripe. lousy when spent. No frills, useful and fairly resourceful. Good for a while in the fridge. However, when overly ripe, or totally green, one of the worst things you can use as a main ingredient.
hmm. Any ideas? What food would you be?
My sis says she is ratatouille (stew of tomatoes, onions, squash and zuchinni). Wonderful any time, great side dish, but can be eaten alone. Vegetarian, and thus, modern.
Me, I think I may just be salami.
Wonderfully salty and exotic, easy to get sick of, tied to tradition, pushing barriers of what meat can do. hmm. Oh, and a high percentage of wonderful fat. Revolting to some. Not something you order at a bar, but maybe when you are on vacation. Beloved by traditionalists and foodies alike. I will not inset a cracker joke here. Or the obvious phallic reference.
Not carried at Walmart...fyi. Neither is ratatouille.
So, when you think about it, it is pretty weird that NPR did a story on Mitterrand eating his own country's soul.
Just a thought that maybe could be shared.
Maybe you've got one eyebrow up???