Masked Men

We didn't get to spend a lot of time on Zorro, a failure I really regret. I suppose it would be safe to say I'm a bit of a sucker for romantic adventures, especially "capa y espada" dramas. Blame it on my youth dominated by Errol Flynn and Princess Bride, or at least that's the excuse for this week. As for my other great weakness for origin stories (Batman Begins is my current favorite example), I really have no excuse. And Isabel Allende manages to fulfill all my wants quite admirably.

In the group discussion there were some problems with the structure of the novel, as a second/third person view, with more than a few breaks in the narrative. I happen to enjoy the idea of an outside storyteller, and often find that the personality of the storyteller integral to the story. I suppose I just wasn't bothered very much by the breaks in narrative, and found the novel as a whole very enjoyable.

I'll offer a brief note on the food before I start rambling on text: for the food of this section the group went out to El Rodeo restaurant for the discussion. In any real study of food it's important to expand the palate as much as possible, and to explore the style and preparatory methods and ingredients of different chefs and cultures. I've been watching the Food Network pretty avidly for a few years, and tried out the style of every chef they offer and really only like Iron Chef now. Why is it that I now campaign avidly for the end of Rachel Ray's influence on America? why I see Giada as a waste of Italy's resources and Paula Deen as just problems? Really it comes down to boredom. The recipes change, but the ingredients remain the same. In my own house there are a few dishes provided regularly for dinner: Mom's meatloaf is pretty spectacular (and the kiwi adventure is still a family story time favorite), the Indonesian spare-ribs sauce on chicken is a personal favorite, and then the holiday standards of apple-mallow-yamyam, and Mom's green jello. Other than that parent-child bonding time usually consists of discussing what page to try in the growing collection of cookbooks. I rarely spend more than two days in one set of ingredients or style. For those who don;t know me very well, I have a very short attention span. It's hardly goldfish level, but I get bored with things very easily. I have a number of brief but intense obsessions that keep me entertained, and a few standards to carry me through, with waxing and waning degrees of interest. Food in no different for me. I like to cook, I love trying new styles and techniques, and sometimes dream of becoming Julia Child, just with less butter and more knives. However, I need to spend some time out of the kitchen in order to inspire me to return, particularly right after the Thanksgiving holiday, and with the Christmas season creeping up with its demands of 4,000 cookies. Going out to eat offers an opportunity to try out new flavors and textures, and to plan how to recreate those experiences at home. Books have been a constant source of inspiration to me. The most recent example has been with another of Waugh's novels, Brideshead Revisited. It contains the description of a luncheon, and particular mention of plover eggs ("There's four each, and two over, so I'm having the two"). As a result of that I take every opportunity to seek out plover eggs to complement a meal. I've only managed quails so far, but a semester in London and access to Fortnum and Mason's may get me those strawberries and wine I've been looking for.

That was a bit longer than brief, but I feel it necessary to help sum up the food aspect of this group. Back to Zorro: I think my major interest in Zorro is in part that I enjoy the writings of Allende, and I really enjoy the self-made hero story. I dislike Superman in a lot of ways, and always enjoyed Batman. Spiderman is beginning to win me over, but much of the appeal that heroes have for me comes from the humanity displayed. Zorro is a man, a man who develops his skills through hard work and determination. He's intelligent and dedicated, and works from an actual desire to do good and improve the lives of the less fortunate rather than some false sense of grandeur. Diego de la Vega is a creature of Spanish aristocracy and Indian tribal culture, a combination that intrigues and keeps him from being trapped in any real social structure. I personally enjoyed the idea that the Indian principles of manhood are not really different from the virtues of the caballero. I would argue that at the same time the Gypsies and Native Americans are not different either. If anything this novel only highlighted for me how small the world really is. Barriers of race are truly artificial, as the same ideals define life, only with different names.