Sunday, February 10, 2008
Brussel Sprouts and Bruckner
II have always believed it important to be as open-minded as possible. As I age, I realize it will be easy to follow habits to becoming a curmudgeon, unwilling to tolerate much less try new experiences and consider new ideas. So to avoid a sedentary, slothful life, not only physically but mentally and spiritually as well, I am always looking for opportunities to learn and grow.
Lately, I have decided to acquire a taste for brussel sprouts and Anton Bruckner, both of which I have contacted only minimally. I did not grow up eating brussel sprouts, meaning I lack the aversion to the vegetable that so many seem to have developed from childhood forced consumption. I am a philistine with respect to classical music, though I know that classical music is itself a misnomer covering multiple periods from the Baroque to the Romantic. Having tasted brussel sprouts perhaps thrice, I have found them to be piquant – indeed, to be the perfect food for that term. Bruckner’s Eighth Symphony, the first movement of which I have listened to several times in a fine recording conducted by Gunter Wand, has the exciting quality that I most like in orchestral works.
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Criticism
I recently had the opportunity to complete the survey for the Zagat restaurant review book, and, as I did so, I developed greater admiration for the food writers who critique their meals on a regular basis, with a palate as well educated as the pen. I found it difficult to contribute more than the most general, clichéd, and trivial remarks, despite eating out almost every dinner and lunch. It truly is a set of skills that surpasses what most amateurs are able to muster, to author descriptions of the act of eating that are more than recitations of the menu. And it is independent of the ability to cook. I am often struck by how many people who are good in an endeavor are not especially compelling in describing that endeavor, and how others who have developed wonderful taste may lack the skills to perform the very activity of which they are the most astute observers. I am reminded of the great Pauline Kael, the film critic who single-handedly established a genre of writing, who once said something along the lines of, “You don’t have to lay eggs to know what a good omelet tastes like.” (More)
