MFK Fisher had a deep appreciation for solitude. Poring over
An Alphabet for Gourmets, the idea of
dining alone came up time and again, from her own experiences to bachelors she
knew. Opening with “A is for Dining Alone,” Fisher talks about the sometimes
wearying effects of other people’s expectations. Due to her popularity as a
food writer, she faced a lot of self-deprecation when friends and acquaintances
told her they were reluctant to cook for her because they assumed her standards
were impossible to meet. As a result, MFK Fisher often sought simplicity on her
own: “I drive home by way of the Thriftimart to pick up another box of Ry
Krisp, which with a can of tomato soup and a glass of sherry will make a good nourishing
meal for me as I sit on my tuffet in a circle of proofs and pocket detective
stories.”
An Alphabet for
Gourmets was published in 1949. While Rosie the Riveter had gained iconic
status, real women out in the world on their own was still a scandal-inducing
concept to some. With razor-sharp wryness, MFK Fisher offers up a series of
incidents to illustrate the double standard between men and women in the public
sphere. Dining alone as a woman at a restaurant hadn’t gained full acceptance
yet, and as she recounts, “I resolved to establish myself as a well-behaved
female at one or two good restaurants, where I could dine alone at a pleasant
table…rather than be pushed into a corner…they knew I tipped well, they knew I
wanted simple but excellent menus, and, above all, they knew I could order and
drink, all by myself, an aperitif and a small bottle of wine without turning
into a maudlin, potential pick-up for the Gentleman at the Bar.” That she
brought books like Henry Miller’s Tropic
of Cancer makes the image of her confronting old norms all the more
brilliant.
Her craving for simplicity follows in the recipes she
provides throughout the book. Despite the short list of ingredients for each,
the flavors promised by the recipes are alluring. Hamburgers are seasoned with
red wine and oyster sauce. A tangy trout dish is made in honor of gourmand
Brillat-Savarin. Sirloin steak marinates in soy, wine, and olive oil. A fan of “peasant
caviar,” Fisher includes three variations of the eggplant-based dip.
She describes several encounters with bachelors and the
meals they served. A lonely widower invited her for dinner, and she prepared
herself thusly: “I did something I seldom do when I am to be a guest: I drank a
sturdy shot of dry vermouth and gin, which I figured from long experience would
give me an appetite immune to almost any gastronomical shocks.” Though what
comes next is what she calls ‘the ghastliest meal,” there’s a poignancy to the
scene as the story of his deceased wife comes to light, and that MFK Fisher
appreciated the fact that he cooked what he knew and was happy with, and it was
done unabashedly and with gusto.
Fisher also shared her favorite items from her collection:
old cookbook recommendations, and a sampling of the menus she collected over
the years from many, many restaurants. Her interests were far and wide, and
fascinating enough for me to copy some of the names to hunt down on my own.
At the end of the book, she offers up a game called The
Perfect Dinner. Six being the perfect number to fill a table, she asks who the
guests would be. For her, guests included French novelist Colette and the
Prince of Wales. The ideal setting was a wide balcony on top of a house on the
Quai Voltaire in Paris, with dinner served on ‘the cool end of a hot August
day, while there was still light in the day for the first part, with candles to
come later.” A lovely scene, but hours after reading that chapter, I was still
wondering who I would invite to be my guests. My husband, of course, and if I
wasn’t bound by time, I’d love to spend some time in the company of the likes
of Hunter S. Thompson and Abbie Hoffman. What they’d have to say about today’s
world would be of keen interest to me. Oh, I know, Yvette Nicole Brown—I really want to get into an in-depth
analysis of The Walking Dead. The insights
from those notebooks she brings to the post-show discussion would be awesome to
discuss.
On the other hand, maybe I’d keep it more ordinary: family I
wish I had more time to spend with, or relatives I never got to meet. Rather
than some exotic, far-flung location, it would be on the Maine coast on a new
spring day as the lupines just start blossoming. The combinations of guests and
scenes are endless.
Whimsical games about the idea dinner party aside, I can say
that for me, nothing is better for restoring my energy than to have my own
meals in solitude from time to time. Sometimes it’s an elaborate meal that
takes hours to prepare. Other times, it’s as simple as her “Strengthening
Prescription for Monastic Supper: a small crusty loaf of sourdough bread, a
piece of Gorgonzola, a stick of butter, and a bottle of red wine.”
Sounds like nirvana to me.
