I cook for the family
I read about cassoulet in an Iris Murdoch novel. Tonight, I cooked it. That is, I cooked “quick cassoulet” in a skillet (traditional cassoulet requires hours of baking), using canned beans.
The result was flavorful but chewy. The bites with celery were crunchy. I’m not sure that that’s how cassoulet is supposed to end up.
I ate three-quarters of the dish. Karin, Samuel, and Daniel ate much smaller portions. I doubt they’ll beg me to cook it again.
Tomorrow: Almanzo Wilder’s “fried apples ’n’ onions.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Half of vol. 3 to go in LOTR.
I continue to read (and, in some cases, re-read) Forster. Each book has bettered its predecessor. I’m now reading Howards End (1916). What does Forster really think of his sadsack, the clerk Leonard Bast? This poor young striver spends his free hours going to Beethoven concerts and reading Ruskin to “improve” himself. He befriends the rich and cultured Schlegel sisters and tries to talk literature with them, and they couldn’t care less; they’d rather treat him as their pet. And they’re much nicer than the other richos. Forster clearly pities Leonard, but he doesn’t seem to like him much. He makes him about as attractive as a trespassing cockroach that must be squashed. Forster likes other proles in other books; just not the strivers. Everything in its rightful place, after all, I guess.
The result was flavorful but chewy. The bites with celery were crunchy. I’m not sure that that’s how cassoulet is supposed to end up.
I ate three-quarters of the dish. Karin, Samuel, and Daniel ate much smaller portions. I doubt they’ll beg me to cook it again.
Tomorrow: Almanzo Wilder’s “fried apples ’n’ onions.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Half of vol. 3 to go in LOTR.
I continue to read (and, in some cases, re-read) Forster. Each book has bettered its predecessor. I’m now reading Howards End (1916). What does Forster really think of his sadsack, the clerk Leonard Bast? This poor young striver spends his free hours going to Beethoven concerts and reading Ruskin to “improve” himself. He befriends the rich and cultured Schlegel sisters and tries to talk literature with them, and they couldn’t care less; they’d rather treat him as their pet. And they’re much nicer than the other richos. Forster clearly pities Leonard, but he doesn’t seem to like him much. He makes him about as attractive as a trespassing cockroach that must be squashed. Forster likes other proles in other books; just not the strivers. Everything in its rightful place, after all, I guess.