A Beavercentric view

Provenance is a concept that describes one's ability to trace the ownership and existence of a particular item, and generally is used for things of substantial value, such as paintings by Titian and other well-known artists. Often, painting and other objects de art which are of certain provenance are considered more valuable than similar items of uncertain provenance for the simple reason that one is never quite sure what happened to the latter. Plus sometimes they get kind of dinged up.

(Below--Diana and Actaeon by Titian c. 1556. A valuable painting of certain provenance and with some naked ladies in it)
According to Wikipedia, provenance is not to be confused with "provence" which is a scenic location in the south of France--and is in fact the south of France--which is, itself, of fairly certain provenance because it's been pretty geologically stable throughout recorded history and has not been hidden in a warehouse, painted over by the "nouveau riche" or accidentally mislaid during any armed conflicts.

(Left) Map of France. Provence, which is also of certain provenance, is toward the lower right)

Provenance is generally less likely to be applied as a term or concept to things like food, because the food we eat often doesn't have a long enough history to make its general whereabouts at all uncertain. Or at least we hope it doesn't.

Of course, the cultural habits we bring to foods and cuisines might have a long history, but since those aren't always all that tangible, it's not terribly common to really discuss provenance. (I think the right word for this is "foodways" but the theory is a little complicated and I frankly don't quite get it all.)

At least, these are the sorts of things my friend pointed out to me when I expressed some discomfort about the "provenance" of some beaver meat he was offering to allow me to eat. Or, rather, was explaining that he had gotten as leftovers from a guy during a kind of historic "interesting and edible animals" or "exotic and edible animals" or some such event in New England. He assured me that even though he forgot the beaver one night in the car, that it had been pretty cold out and it was perfectly fine. (And I should explain here that there are legal venues for obtaining beaver meat and that not all beaver species are endangered and that the beaver in question was handled humanely.)

I had an image of a juvenile beaver stuck in a car seat in the back of my friend's car,

gnawing on leftover bags of fast food refuse and cheap paperback books. (NB: my friend never eats fast food and took umbrage at my imagination placing the beaver in the back seat of my own car.) In any event, the hapless beaver did not gain in culinary succulence from this explanation.

(Right) Big Mac--a type of fast food that neither contains, nor is routinely consumed by, beavers.

When I was studying early American Literature, I learned a lot about beavers as cultural artifacts. I had not really been aware, for example, that the entire country of Canada was a result of the early fur trade, and that one of the reasons that Quebec is still francophone is that the first trappers were from France and had become very culturally enmeshed there.

Beavers remain pretty popular in Canada, and "Roots" uses one as its mascot or logo or what have you...on my last trip there I even bought a really cute cuddly toy beaver wearing a shirt with a beaver on it for my niece (She promptly "killed" it with one of the plastic dinosaur 'chompers' I bought her brother. I understand that the plastic dinosaur found the cuddly beaver to be "yummy.")

(Left: a beaver skeleton. Still good even if it has been left out in the car overnight.)

The day after I bought the cuddly beaver, I was at Lake Louise with a group of Italian colleagues after a meningitis and septicaemia meeting (it was much more fun than it sounds), and one of them asked what was up with all the beavers in Canada. I explained about the fur trade and the trappers and mentioned that the economic basis of the founding of settlements in North America was based on the beaver as a major export. It was probably somewhat boring, especially when compared with the lake and the cuddly toys.

He termed my explanation the "beavercentric view" of America. I kind of liked that as a term, but I could not really find a good way to work this into the beavercentric conversations I was having with my friend as the beaver in question languished in his freezer. Six months later, he was still offering it to me and told me I had only myself to blame if the beaver was getting freezer burn because the initial offer had been made as soon as he found it in his car. I was having a hard time arguing with this logic.

(Below) beaver lodge. Beavers spend a lot of time building these to create small ponds because beavers like small ponds. People who own trout streams do not appreciate the level of achievement this entails (beavers being only rodents) because they would prefer to be able to fish for the trouts and not have their parking places flooded. Some of these are brook trout.

Unfortunately, the beavercentric conversation took a turn at this point because I used the word "provanance" and my friend (like most of my friends) has a much better vocabulary than I do. He is also a bit more literal.

I was, in the tradition of Humpty Dumpty, paying "provenance" extra to mean not simply "I have no real idea where this beaver came from or how it has been handled since it was humanely killed" but also "I do not think of the back seat of your car as a place that I'd like to store food overnight."

He, on the other hand, made a point of explaining all the activities of the beaver from the time of its humanely handled death.

It made my life look quite boring and humdrum.

(above right) 1871 illustration of Humpty Dumpty by John Tenniel, a really good artist (although this copy might not really be art because it's mechanically reproduced). This is the Humpty Dumpty that pays words extra. Others just dance around and fall off things.

My friend took the opportunity at this point to tell me that it was more likely that there were items of uncertain provenance in all the fast food I was eating.

This was kind of a low blow, because of course I have read quite a number of books about fast food and how the industry can be quite mean to the animals and that my hamburger or hot dog might really be made of an unpleasant combination of snouts and corn syrup.

I don't believe this, exactly, but I have been eating kind of a lot of hot dogs since I got back from Ljubljana, which I blame on the nice man from the comic book store and his tale of the hot dogs of Ljubljana.

I'm still not consuming any beavers.

All images are in the public domain. beaver photos, Humpty Dumpty image, and map of France are in the public domain because their copyrights have expired. big mac photo by evan-amos.

hamburger and hot dog images by the National Cancer Institute of the United States.

A learning experience

The panino is an Italian sandwich of any type, usually made on a bread roll or what we might call a sandwich, grinder, or even hero. It can also be served on ciabatta bread.

In other parts of the world, the panini is a sandwich made on flat bread that has been squished between two heated metal plates to toast the bread and heat up the fillings. In Italy they call this "a squished sandwich"... only they do it in Italian (and likely they don't really say "squished" but "pressed" or "toasted").

In the US and other parts of the world, the panini is its own special little slice of ... sandwich. There's even a whole blog site devoted to the making of the "happy panini." (Interestingly, in Italy, "panini" can, in fact, refer to comic books and comic book heroes like Spiderman and X-Men.) One can also find a version of the panini in the delightful "Louvre mall." They are quite tasty, and the lady who squishes them in the little hot pressing machine is really, really nice and pretends that your French is not hurting her ears, which is a rare thing in Paris, where normally people in the service industry yell at you for pronouncing things badly.

I used to get to visit a friend in Paris a few times a year because I had a job that brought me to France. It's amazing what you can learn from someone who lives in a city. For example, the Louvre used to be a royal residence and the site of many fine musketeer adventures.

One of the things that I learned was that, if you walk past the nice panini lady, the Louvre mall food court also has a gratin bar and a tapas place, each of which is quite a bit more enticing... and affordable, given that the sweater you just purchased at Benetton was en solde, and considering also that you forgot that the euro is worth a fair bit more than the dollar. But I digress.


One of the myriad sights to see on the way to the food court below the Louvre. Some people just go for the art.

I encountered a more disturbing instance of the panini near Camden, NJ during a blind date that took place at a trendy Italian-themed combination bistro and sports bar. At the time, my response to the offer of a blind date was "That sounds fun." I realize now that this is not always the correct initial response to a proffer of a blind date, but one must learn somehow.

In any event, I entered a trendy little bistro-type place in my at the time go-to outfit of skirt, boots and black top, passing a very, very tense looking man in a bright, pastel cashmere sweater. It was the type of garment that simultaneously screamed "easter egg" and "dry clean only." It was not the sort of thing that could be pulled off except by an Italian--or possibly French--man, perhaps holding a panino. The sweater would be worn draped over the shoulders with calfskin shoes in a interesting shade of some neutral color (or matching the sweater) and no socks. Or perhaps with a pastel shirt underneath, collar pulled up at a jaunty angle. The tense man in question was wearing the sweater with jeans in the style of a sweatshirt, accessorized by clunky brown oxfords and socks, which were appropriate to the weather.

I paused for a moment to be stunned by the sweater, tried to edge by unobtrusively. Sadly, the tense man turned out to be my blind date.
Ah well... on to lunch. "Sweater man," was a very voluble physician. At first he seemed cheerful and pleasant.

Then he assured me that even though he was smarter than me, it would be all right and I didn't need to feel bad at all. Ok--well, maybe I'd learn something.

He knew a lot about sandwiches because he was immediately able to identify the panini from the menu. He then asked if I knew what a panini was, and as I was opening my mouth to say I'd had one in the Louvre Mall the preceding week, he explained, at some length, that the panini was a pressed sandwich. My mouth fell open as he explained, and being a man who was--as he had already explained--well acquainted with the burden of speaking to those of far, far less intellectual ability than himself, he kindly repeated his explanation. Verbatim.

He then asked if I'd ever been to Europe, and as I was opening my mouth to explain that I'd in fact just returned from a weekend in Paris where I'd visited a friend after a work trip (and had a panini, since he'd asked), he launched into a loving description of a 10-day package tour to Italy.

I realized that I was not a required participant at the lunch and nodded attentively as "the sweater" (I had, sadly, already forgotten his name) regaled me with explanations about how they can actually get cheese from pecorino sheep and then instructed me on the proper eating of bread and butter, which I wasn't doing right.

This photo was hand-massaged by Jeff G.

Fortunately, his lecture on Italian foodstuffs was interrupted by the waitress. He ordered a chicken, portabello mushroom, and american cheese panini on ciabatta bread (so, in fact a panino although I felt it would be petty to point that out given my own marked deficiencies in the area of eating). They didn't normally offer the american cheese on the paninis and paninos because it was for the kid's meal cheeseburgers, so that needed to be sorted out. I ordered pasta.

By this time, I'd decided to set about the best sort of dating triage I knew, which was to slap a big, fake perky smile on my face and keep talking randomly. I later learned that Rachel Ray has been known to advise would-be cooking show hosts to do this...although she also advised them to keep talking about the food. (That would have been helpful to me to have known at them time.)

This held us through the time it took for the food to arrive, and the sweater was suggesting a follow-up date. I was trying to frame a noncommittal but perky response to this, at which point the sweater looked at his sandwich in some confusion. It was certainly the bulkiest panini I had even seen, and I supposed he was wondering how it could possibly fit into a human mouth. He peered between the slides of bread, as the waitress leaned over to give me my pasta. I picked up a fork, blithely unaware that I would be learning something very important in just a few moments.

A look of rage suffused the sweater's features and he burst out with some venom, "Isn't there supposed to be some sort of topping on this?"

The waitress and I both jumped a bit. She was standing next to him and got a good bit of distance in the hop.

At the time, I worked at a job where violent verbal outbursts were a daily event, and the best way to meet them was with calm and intellectual analysis. And withering sarcasm if the person had yelled something considered "stupid." At my workplace, the sweater would have been roundly mocked because the category of food topping includes things like cool whip, which do not normally go well with american cheese. Or possibly anchovies, which would have become a "filling" once put between two slices of bread.

(Pumpkin pie with a whipped cream topping...hold the anchovies.)

The waitress, however, was not used to being yelled at and was visibly shaken. She looked at me questioningly and I raised my eyebrows in a "got me" kind of gesture and mouthed "sorry." Poor impulse control aside, the sweater had, as he explained, been to medical school and was no idiot. He remembered that he was among those of inferior intelligence and was busily apologizing when the waitress bent down and patted his easter-eggy cashmere shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry," she said brightly, "I'll get you some nice ketchup." She smiled, pleased to have come up with a solution to his panini needs.

I was impressed. She managed to convey her contempt of his panini in a way it would be impossible to complain about. The sweater's mouth opened a closed a few times.

It was with some difficulty that I did not burst out laughing. "Wow," I said. "What a helpful suggestion." The waitress and I beamed at each other and then at the sweater.

I kept chattering, and the waitress, exuding perky good will and extreme cheer arrived back at the table with a large soup bowl simply brimming with ketchup. As she put it on the table a little blob of the ketchup got on the sweater's dry-clean-only pastel sleeve. Oopsies! The red clashed with the easter-eggy color. She apologized profusely.

The sweater looked uncomfortable. He was, in fact, in a bit of a bind. He clearly realized that he might not be getting top marks on his dating behavior, and he'd been making some noises, as I noted above, about a follow-up date. One could almost see the wheels spinning in his head.

Given his earlier outburst, he had to pretend that it was perfectly fine, refuse her offer to reimburse him for the sandwich...and eat the ketchup.

We kept looking at him and smiling until he took a nice, big helping.

He only got a little more on his sweater. (The bowl was really full.)

After the date, I drove around the block and went back to give the waitress an extra tip.

Ketchup image from the Heinz web site. Image and logo subject to copyright. The Heinz corporation does not endorse the use of its ketchup or any other product to mock bad dates.

Panino image by Xavier Snelgrove. Pecorino cheese by Jeff G. Louvre photo by Vinceesq. Pumpkin pie by Nukkus. easter eggs by NaJina McEnany. These photo files are all licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 Generic license.

Cashmere sweaters: public domain image.

Mello(w) Yello(w)?

(above A Homer Simpson doll suspended outside a shop window in Iceland... or Island as properly spelled.) Definitely yellow. Probably not all that mellow.

Back in the day, a European performer known as "Donovan" popularized the idea that yellow could be a mellow color, even if it is kind of bright and sunny and generally rather exciting. Apparently, he even titled a whole record album after this concept. According to a rather disjointed and lively entry on Wikipedia, various origins for the identity of the mellow yellow object were originally suggested. None of them seem particularly cheerful.

Although clearly not the original "mellow yellow" object, the discussion brings to mind Andy Warhol's banana image for the Velvet Underground. Further research shows that people interested in bananas can be pretty intense, as there are quite a number of databases devoted to recording the genetic data and other information associated with this tasty fruit and its cousin the plantain.

A citrus-y soft drink called Mello Yello is also somewhat popular in the US, although probably not quite as popular as Donovan. One wonders if it's actually "mellow," however, as the whole point seems to be that it's caffeinated but does not taste like cola. Several other rival yellow caffeinated drinks are also available, but their advertising suggests that they are more intended for an edge-of-your seat, bungee jumping, cliff diving type of crowd.

The phenomenon of caffeinated but not cola drinks is a bit different in various countries. In Europe, citrus-y caffeinated soft drinks, like Kinnie and San Pellegrino Chino actually also look like cola and are not yellow. They do not really taste like cola. And some people have gone so far as to suggest that they do not taste good, but that is a matter of... taste. The citrus-y drinks definitely do taste interesting, although not quite as interesting as Thums Up Cola, which briefly ousted Coca Cola from India, only to be later engulfed by the now multinational "pause that refreshes."

Another interesting phenomenon in Europe seems to be a fascination with yellow-colored US cartoon characters. For example, both Spongebob and the Simpsons feature in shop window displays in Siena, where they also seem to be friendly with Smurfette.

I'm not sure what the representations are like in Europe, but I don't find the Simpsons or Spongebob or the Smurfs to be particularly mellow. Frolicksome, antic, perky, wacky, and lively, yes. Mellow. Not so much.

It is, of course, worthy of note that many of these cartoon images seem to play into a generally European notion that Americans are comical figures who pattern their behavior after such notable celebrities as Jerry Lewis after his split with Dean Martin or Soupy Sales.

Perhaps it's time for some further research?

fair use rationale for the images of copyrighted materials: use of these images as an illustration for purposes of criticism or comment, is not an infringement of copyright based on: the purpose and character of the use, which is not for profit, uses only a small portion of the copyrighted work, and does not infringe upon the commercial use of the original work.

image credits:citrus slices by Scott Bauer, USDA. public domain image
citrus wedges image from the US National Institutes of Health. public domain image.

Zombies--does anyone really need one?

The time of Halloween is upon us and thoughts naturally turn to such things as sugar skulls, chocolate candy, plastic pumpkins and, of course, zombies.

Sugar skulls from sugarskull.com.

The theory is that zombies are a type of undead monster that has been reanimated from the dead and lurches about insatiably eating brains or human flesh and generally acting in a socially inappropriate fashion. This is even worse than the faux pas committed by Sheldon Cooper when he accidentally picked up some cadaver brains instead of sashimi. It is worthy of note, that he is afraid of zombies and therefore cannot watch the Thriller video that heralded the advent of MTV.

Zombies are also quite dangerous in other ways. If a zombie bites or scratches you, the choices are to allow yourself to be eaten or to become a zombie yourself. This tends to make other people rather nervous and shy of the company of zombies and also leads to activities like mass burning the zombies or blowing them up. All of which is a bit yucky, to say the least.

(left and below) image of zombies from Night of the Living Dead. Images from the film and its advertising are in the public domain in the United States

As you can clearly see, zombies are not fun and do not make good pets. They also dress badly.

The treatment of zombies in film is generally straightforward; however, literary depictions range from the rather simple range of fast and slow zombies in The Forest of Hands and Teeth, a young adult novel that has enjoyed a great deal of success and spawned two sequels and a companion book. (Many people like this book. MightyIsis was up for three days after reading it, which is a testament to the power and realism of the prose.)

Another handling of zombies can be found in American Gods, an acclaimed fantasy novel by Neil Gaiman, who is best known in some circles for the Sandman graphic novel series (that also kept MightyIsis up at night). In American Gods, zombies are described as men who think they are dead and therefore can use this knowledge as license for their various zombie activities. Disturbing as this is, it is also quite an interesting statement on human nature.

None of which, of course, explains why a friend once told MightyIsis, "sometimes you just need a zombie." Really? Outside of the context of making a horror movie?

This was a bit of a stumper (note: not a good word to use while interviewing to become a professor), but MightyIsis gutted through it and finally came up with a zombie needing scenario.

The acapella group Rockapella is perhaps best known for the the theme song to a children's program called "Where in the World is Carmen San Diego"? However, they also do a really interesting version of a song called "Zombie Jamboree." The performance is adorable...

sometimes you just really need a zombie jamboree....?

Well, maybe not.

Of course, there is a social situation in which zombies are actually needed, which is the zombie walk. MightyIsis accidentally attended one of these recently while looking for Faniuel Hall with a friend. But most of the zombies there were regular people dressed as zombies. And none of them were eating brains or human flesh.

Fair use rationale for sugar skull image: use of this image as an illustration for purposes of criticism or comment, is not an infringement of copyright based on: the purpose and character of the use, which is not for profit, uses only a small portion of the copyrighted work, and does not infringe upon the commercial use of the original work.

Benchtosis

In The Big Bang Theory, Howard Wolowitz posits that his friend, Sheldon Cooper, is most likely to reproduce via mitosis, a process generally reserved for cells. Theoretically, Sheldon would consume mass quantities of Thai food (although perhaps not quite as much as the Coneheads would), then divide into two separate Sheldons. The humor value in this little joke is considerable, although I understand that explaining it would ruin the fun. Suffice it to say that mitosis was offered in lieu of sexual reproduction.

(Left) Image of cell life cycles, including mitosis (labelled as "c"). Public Domain image by EB Wilson.

Of course, there is no evidence that people can reproduce by mitosis or that Thai food can cause unusual reproduction. At least not on Wikipedia. (I'm not really planning to research this.)

Nevertheless, there is a possibility that unusual reproduction, or even mitosis, may occur in other contexts. Well, mostly cells, but what if other things didn't reproduce the way we all thought?

Take for example, the benches of Ljubljana, a lovely city in Slovenja (which formerly was part of Yugoslavia, although that was only after it had been dragged behind the Iron Curtain rather against its will). Ljubljana is a really beautiful and delightful city that has many fine features (and book stores). It is also the home of Slavoj Zizek, who is a really remarkable theorist and apparently quite fond of the word "qua."

The nice man from the Comic Book Store (no, the new one) even recommended the hot dogs, which were just fine. The hot dog vendors actually carve a tunnel into the bun, which makes the application of toppings a bit interactive, but there's less squirting than you'd get with a Nathan's hot dog.

Arial view of Ljubljana (photo taken by MightyIsis's alter ego RegularIsis). Pretty.

One of the interesting and distinctive things about Ljubljana is its dragons. There are four of them, and they guard the bridge a little ways from the town center. They all look exactly the same, possibly because they came from the same mold. This would be a kind of reproduction, but not mitosis. In fact, if Walter Benjamin is to be believed, these dragons, nifty as the are, might not really be art because of the way they were mechanically reproduced. Marcel DuChamp, who is well-known for putting rather-more-than-slightly-used urinals on display at museums under the cheerfully deceptive title of "fountain" might probably have disagreed if he were asked. Although he may just have casted some in chrome and displayed them himself. (Note: Art Historians get upset if you refer to him as "that urinal guy.")

(Left) one of the four guardian bridge dragons. Not produced by mitosis or sexual reproduction. Also, possibly not really art.

(below, right) "Fountain" by Marcel DuChamp. Public Domain image. Not terribly hygienic and undoubtedly mass produced. However, definitely art.

Another interesting thing in Ljubljana is the presence of many cute, glossy little benches. So adorable. Also quite convenient for eating any hot dogs you may have happened to have bought. They provide a nice surface for setting down your cola so you can apply ketchup (or the topping of your choice) to the hot dog you just bought.

(below) Another cute bench. One of many such benches to be found, displaying another option in the plethora of bright, shiny colors to be seen.


Around the city, particularly in the major pedestrian shopping zones, the little benches sit perkily waiting for a weary walker. They have, as you can see, different little color combinations as well.


This all seems innocent enough... doesn't it?

MightyIsis had been given to understand that most benches do not reproduce, but rather are mass produced (no, not really like mass quantities, although those can be mass produced as well), and therefore do not have to engage in mitosis.

...but then, it seemed that some of the benches were not just hanging out waiting for tourists to find a safe haven for consuming hot dogs, coca-colas and possibly a nice packet of "crisps" (which is a fancy foreign word for "potato chips").

(Above, left) a nice little bench with red and blue slats. Very handy for sitting.

Of course, some of the benches seemed to have friends. Which could be handy for sitting with larger groups of people... and hot dogs.

(left) two little benches. Convenient for sitting with a friend or maybe two, and able to accommodate several hot dogs or perhaps a pizza.

Some locations, like the central area where several streets come together had longer benches, more like the standard park bench one might see in London or New York.

but then... the longer benches started acting a bit strange...

Since the benches lacked any obvious means of propulsion and were extremely heavy, it appeared that something quite serious was up....


indeed...

There was definitely some movement.

I am given to understand that benches are not terribly quick-moving, so this much have taken some effort.

After a day or two of pondering this movement, I decided that I was just imagining things.

And then, what to my wondering eyes should appear...

Perhaps next time I'll eat elsewhere...

Figure credit: Mitosis: Figure 2 of: Wilson, Edmund B. (1900). The cell in Development and Inheritance, second edition, New York: The Macmillan Company.