A reading kind of a day

 

Coulibac

Rain was forecast for Fort Worth today, and I hoped for a cloudy day that would inspire me to spend the whole day reading. It sort of happened—cloudy in the morning, thunder around noon, and a nice rain. But then the sun came out. Didn’t stop me. I kept reading.

My reading choices today were eclectic to say the least. I started with the new and much lauded book, Forget the Alamo, which proposes that the Texas Revolution was all about slavery and nothing more. I have lots of quarrels with the authors, from their narrative tone to a few of the facts—Adina DeZavala was not a raven-haired beauty of twenty-five when she fought to save the long barracks at the Alamo; she was a failed schoolteacher of forty with her hair in a sloppy bun. I think maybe they cherry picked the evidence to support their thesis, but I totally agree that racism was a huge part of the cause of the rebellion. And I was intrigued by a couple of sections—the true story of those Texas History Movies, which people still praise today, and a discussion of how seventh grade field trips suddenly teach Mexican kids that they are the enemy. I still have half the book to go, so maybe more later. I intended to go from there to a Diane Mott Davidson culinary mystery which has me in its clutches. I’ve found caterer Goldy Schultz such good company late at night.

But a friend wrote me that she was reading Rushdie on Roth’s Portnoy’s Complaint. I’ve never read anything by Rushdie and always thought he was intellectually beyond me. But I was intrigued—if it was a book, I wasn’t up for it. But it was the text of the first Philip Roth Memorial Lecture. I pulled it up, read it, and was glad I had. Rushdie is not as off-putting as I thought. His literary knowledge is way impressive, his insight into human behavior and cultural similarities penetrating, and his sense of humor just enough to lighten what he says. I read it with respect and enjoyment. And learned a lot about Roth and Saul Bellow. Time well spent.

But what really got me today was a pop culture piece on what the Royals eat. I’m a fan of the monarchy plus a foodie, so this was right up my alley. I can do without lovage soup (Prince Charles’ favorite) and treacle (Prince Harry’s choice) and even that Canadian staple, poutine, which Meghan Markle loves. Kate Middleton drinks some weird health drink with algae for breakfast—no thanks. But Prince Charles’ baked egg was almost like I do it, except I use cheddar instead of whatever hard cheese the Brits use.

But the late Prince Phillipi, may his memory be a blessing, loved coulibac—salmon in a bread wrapping, sort of like a piscatory version of Beef Wellington. I’ve made it, and I love it. And the Queen Mum’s Brussel sprouts—I don’t much like sprouts, but I’m determined to try these—grated and sauteed with olive oil, onion, garlic, salt and pepper and served with a squeeze of lemon. The Queen also likes smoked salmon and eggs for breakfast—obviously a woman who shares my good taste. And she’s fond of Gleneagles pate, composed of trout, mackerel, and salmon—I’m going to look for that in the store, but I doubt with any luck, and I think making it may be a bridge too far. It calls for a total of three pounds of fish and six sticks of butter!

Maybe none of it would be as good as the soy-baked chicken, wild rice, and salad we had for supper tonight. Wish we’d taken a picture before Christian carved it.

Now I’m off to read Goldy Schutz. Rain tomorrow and through Monday. I’ll get so much reading done.