At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Wednesday, May 23, 2018


A very dear man on the East Coast, when alerted to a Lutheran christening, asked "How does that work? Do they nail the baby to the door of the church?"

[And please note that what is meant by 'christening' here is actually baptism, as was pointed out by a Jewish person who knows far too much about witchcraft, the Greeks, and pagan superstitions.]

Both my brother and I were christened as infants (C of E). It was the only christening we ever attended, and it had as little impact on our subsequent lives as christening had had on our parents. My mother believed the ritual was just something that had to be done. The only reason they had to visit churches was to admire the architecture. My brother memorized the entire Tanach and most of the Christian subsequentia not out of faith, but as a challenge (severely Aspergers, that one). So, technically, I am a Christian. As were all the generations leading back to a toothless peasant sometime in the twelfth century, whom I imagine saying "we're an anarcho-syndicalist commune" and "supreme power derives from a mandate from the masses".

[No, I don't know how those two phrases would sound in the Brabantine Dutch of the late mediaeval period. And it would take more knowledge than I have to find out.]

As a child I did rather like the tale of the loaves and the fishes, because living in the Netherlands that sounded very nice. Herring and good bread? Mmm, I am SO there! Americans, of course, eat garbage bread and canned tuna, so I haven't even thought about it in years. And there were other tales (I skipped over all the crap about baby sheep and butterflies), but the best ones were always the stories that kept one awake at night. Example: the Levite, his concubine, and the men from the tribe of Benjamin. Look it up.

As the source of quotes and turns of phrase, scripture is stellar.
But as a life guide, perhaps far less so.

As a book about cuisine, it just could not ever work.
That wasn't important for a long time.
Twenty centuries of kraut.
And porridge.

I recommend the Larousse Gastronomique instead.
Crêpes Suzette are a sacrament.

I am somewhat intrigued by edible grasshoppers.
But only somewhat.

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