Perhaps a bracelet is in order. What would Shackleton do?
I just read the part in Anne Fadiman’s “Ex Libris” where she discusses how Dr. James McIlroy asked the 22 men stranded in Antarctica with Ernest Shackleton what they would eat if they could have one dish. “Marmalade pudding with Devonshire cream,” said McIlroy himself. I don’t know what a marmalade pudding is but anything is good with Devonshire cream. “Syrup pudding,” said James. I was unaware of this English penchant for making puddings out of condiments. I’m ashamed to admit I did a similar thing with ketchup, as a child. “Devonshire dumpling with cream,” said Clark. I imagine the dumpling is made of Devonshire cream, too. I can relate. I spent a year living in a forest, and I have multiple volumes of food fantasies.
This section struck me because I awoke to a glorious day and a middling feeling of guilt. The guilt I experience is somewhat free-floating—it wanders around in my brain searching for justification, until settling happily to munch on something I had previously agreed to not worry about. In this case I realized that my morning coffee, eggs and bagel would require energy—electricity—which has just shot up in Juneau to an ill-placed avalanche over worse-placed power transmission towers. Thinking of my quintupled May bill, I considered microwaving tea and eating raw foods for breakfast. They would of course embark me on a healthier path, too. From now on, I would only eat whole, raw foods. I looked at the dried beans on my shelf. Could they be eaten raw?
Thank god, the coffee was next to the beans. It brought me back. The reality is that I am a (usually) unrepentant epicure, and a certain amount of electricity is necessary to support that. And it’s not so much—it’s not like I’m making elaborate marmalade puddings all day. I think I could shop for a barbeque this weekend, though.
Tags: beans, epicures, guilt, puddings, utility bill
