Jag vaknar av mardrömmar, något jag inte gjort på länge. Huvuden som skalas av högst brutalt och blottar en serie identiska mansansikten bakom mina vänners bekanta anleten. Den sega plastlika huden som rivs upp i en diagonal från ögat till näshåkorna och hakan. Fotografier som sakta börjar röra sig, uppspelande de mest gastkramande scener. Jag sover med lampan tänd resten av natten. Nåväl, det kan vara V's billiga färdigskivade cheddar som vi hade till middag, över tomatpurée på toast som grillats i ugnen. Inget upprör sinnet som billig ost. Och orange färdigskivad cheddar är onekligen ett ondskans påfund, flottig och gummiartad i konsistensen, likt uppvärmd plast över brödet, med en smak av lök och inte sällan icke-vegetarisk. Joseph Harding would not approve. Och drottningen är knappast road. Ost och mardrömmar är annars än väldokumenterad duo. The Harvard Magazine från 1858 ger det visa rådet till sina läsare att "Anxiety of mind and toasted cheese are sure begetters of uncomfortable sleep and nightmare". Och Edward Hichcock i sin Dyspepsy Forestalled & Resisted: Or, Lectures on Diet, Regimen, & Employment; Delivered to the Students of Amherst College; Spring Term, 1830 har en mycket underhållande utläggning kring litterära mäns matvanor (som märk väl, givetvis skiljer sig från kreti och pletis):
"Oh, how can a lady, who has any knowledge on this subject, even after she has prepared such a farrago of indigestibles, urge them, as an act of kindness, upon her guests, if they are literary persons ? To them such trash is rank poison — poison to the body, and poison to the soul; and they ought to touch not, taste not, handle not. No stomach can endure them without injury, except it be that of the sailor, the soldier, the drayman, and the hard working farmer. From other circles, especially from among literary men, and all ladies, and those in easy circumstances, these things ought to be banished as real and dangerous enemies. Instead, therefore, of saying to a literary friend, as if it were an act of kindness, do let me help you to a piece of this pie, or this cake, or these sweatmeats, or these fruits ; it would be a fair statement for a lady to say; "this tea, Sir, will probably give you a sleepless night, and a headache to-morrow. This biscuit is just baked, so as to be exactly adapted to lie heavy on your stomach, and give disturbed and unrefreshing sleep. This cheese, if you will take a little of it,along with the biscuit, will load your imagination with unpleasant dreams. Add a few of these sweatmeats, and you may be sure of the nightmare." (p. 69-70)
Alas har cheddaren äntrat mina drömmar med sina fasansfyllda tablåer. Och dagen, mager, har fötts på torra brödskivor utan pålägg. Vi litterati, har inte mycket val, med våra svaga intellektuella sinnen, vår förmåga till fantastiska och fasansfulla kreationer, och vår veka lungsiktiga kroppar, annat än att sky cheddarn och svälta.
"Oh, how can a lady, who has any knowledge on this subject, even after she has prepared such a farrago of indigestibles, urge them, as an act of kindness, upon her guests, if they are literary persons ? To them such trash is rank poison — poison to the body, and poison to the soul; and they ought to touch not, taste not, handle not. No stomach can endure them without injury, except it be that of the sailor, the soldier, the drayman, and the hard working farmer. From other circles, especially from among literary men, and all ladies, and those in easy circumstances, these things ought to be banished as real and dangerous enemies. Instead, therefore, of saying to a literary friend, as if it were an act of kindness, do let me help you to a piece of this pie, or this cake, or these sweatmeats, or these fruits ; it would be a fair statement for a lady to say; "this tea, Sir, will probably give you a sleepless night, and a headache to-morrow. This biscuit is just baked, so as to be exactly adapted to lie heavy on your stomach, and give disturbed and unrefreshing sleep. This cheese, if you will take a little of it,along with the biscuit, will load your imagination with unpleasant dreams. Add a few of these sweatmeats, and you may be sure of the nightmare." (p. 69-70)
Alas har cheddaren äntrat mina drömmar med sina fasansfyllda tablåer. Och dagen, mager, har fötts på torra brödskivor utan pålägg. Vi litterati, har inte mycket val, med våra svaga intellektuella sinnen, vår förmåga till fantastiska och fasansfulla kreationer, och vår veka lungsiktiga kroppar, annat än att sky cheddarn och svälta.
2 kommentarer:
Jag tycker inte om ost. Anne-Marie
Jag älskar ost.
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