I eat, therefore I am. And then I write about it.

Whenever I think I’m through writing about food–okay, done that, time to move on–something jogs my memory, & it’s often food related. I love both reading and writing about food  because, of course, it’s so much more. The food is just the hook, the entry point to memories and moods and  mysteries. I’ve written about sushi, and about bacon (more now that I’ve stopped eating it) and rutabagas and Cornish pasties. And in each of these pieces, I’m writing about my life. Since I plan to continue to live, eat, and write, I doubt that I’ll run out of inspiration.

My latest published essay is about mollusks–clams and mussels and oysters, oh my!–a tragic tale of renunciation. I’m doubly delighted that  Elegy for a Mollusk,” (linked here) is published in the northwest journal, Raven Chronicles, since most of it takes place in Seattle, and because it’s truly an honor to be in a journal that has also published the work of my good friend and mentor, Priscilla Long.

Have a dozen on the half-shell for me. Buon appetito!

Advertisements

About Alice Lowe

I am a freelance writer, avid reader and Virginia Woolfophile in San Diego, California. I have published essays and reviews about Virginia Woolf, including "Beyond the Icon: Virginia Woolf in Contemporary Fiction," a monograph in the Bloomsbury Heritage Series published in 2010 by Cecil Woolf Publishers, London. My personal essays have appeared and are forthcoming in numerous literary journals and can be followed on my blog: www.aliceloweblogs.wordpress.com.
This entry was posted in About Food, Personal Essays. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to I eat, therefore I am. And then I write about it.

  1. Lynn says:

    Ahhhhhhhhh – you’ve got me hungry for them and for your company.

    Your recollections put me in mind of going to a little shack on an island off of Charleston, South Carolina. Our group of about 15 sat at a long picnic table covered in newspapers as men in tall rubber boots came and went. We could see them out of the small windows as they shoveled oysters right off the rocks. Then in they’d stomp and spread the contents of the buckets down along our table. We were all drinking bottle after bottle of beer. We opened the oysters with sharp knives and slurped them down raw. The parade of oyster buckets never stopped coming.

    It was one of the most memorable and delicious feasts I’ve ever had.

    I must finish with the “Walrus and The Carpenter”, by Lewis Carroll who also obviously enjoyed his mollusks:

    The sun was shining on the sea,
    Shining with all his might:
    He did his very best to make
    The billows smooth and bright–
    And this was odd, because it was
    The middle of the night.

    The moon was shining sulkily,
    Because she thought the sun
    Had got no business to be there
    After the day was done–
    “It’s very rude of him,” she said,
    “To come and spoil the fun!”

    The sea was wet as wet could be,
    The sands were dry as dry.
    You could not see a cloud, because
    No cloud was in the sky:
    No birds were flying overhead–
    There were no birds to fly.

    The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Were walking close at hand;
    They wept like anything to see
    Such quantities of sand:
    “If this were only cleared away,”
    They said, “it would be grand!”

    “If seven maids with seven mops
    Swept it for half a year.
    Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
    “That they could get it clear?”
    “I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
    And shed a bitter tear.

    “O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
    The Walrus did beseech.
    “A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
    Along the briny beach:
    We cannot do with more than four,
    To give a hand to each.”

    The eldest Oyster looked at him,
    But never a word he said:
    The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
    And shook his heavy head–
    Meaning to say he did not choose
    To leave the oyster-bed.

    But four young Oysters hurried up,
    All eager for the treat:
    Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
    Their shoes were clean and neat–
    And this was odd, because, you know,
    They hadn’t any feet.

    “It was so kind of you to come!
    And you are very nice!”
    The Carpenter said nothing but
    “Cut us another slice:
    I wish you were not quite so deaf–
    I’ve had to ask you twice!”

    “It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
    “To play them such a trick,
    After we’ve brought them out so far,
    And made them trot so quick!”
    The Carpenter said nothing but
    “The butter’s spread too thick!”

    “I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
    “I deeply sympathize.”
    With sobs and tears he sorted out
    Those of the largest size,
    Holding his pocket-handkerchief
    Before his streaming eyes.

    “O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
    “You’ve had a pleasant run!
    Shall we be trotting home again?’
    But answer came there none–
    And this was scarcely odd, because
    They’d eaten every one.

    Four other Oysters followed them,
    And yet another four;
    And thick and fast they came at last,
    And more, and more, and more–
    All hopping through the frothy waves,
    And scrambling to the shore.

    The Walrus and the Carpenter
    Walked on a mile or so,
    And then they rested on a rock
    Conveniently low:
    And all the little Oysters stood
    And waited in a row.

    “The time has come,” the Walrus said,
    “To talk of many things:
    Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
    Of cabbages–and kings–
    And why the sea is boiling hot–
    And whether pigs have wings.”

    “But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
    “Before we have our chat;
    For some of us are out of breath,
    And all of us are fat!”
    “No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
    They thanked him much for that.

    “A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
    “Is what we chiefly need:
    Pepper and vinegar besides
    Are very good indeed–
    Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
    We can begin to feed.”

    “But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
    Turning a little blue.
    “After such kindness, that would be
    A dismal thing to do!”
    “The night is fine,” the Walrus said.
    “Do you admire the view?

    “It was so kind of you to come!
    And you are very nice!”
    The Carpenter said nothing but
    “Cut us another slice:
    I wish you were not quite so deaf–
    I’ve had to ask you twice!”

    “It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
    “To play them such a trick,
    After we’ve brought them out so far,
    And made them trot so quick!”
    The Carpenter said nothing but
    “The butter’s spread too thick!”

    “I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
    “I deeply sympathize.”
    With sobs and tears he sorted out
    Those of the largest size,
    Holding his pocket-handkerchief
    Before his streaming eyes.

    “O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
    “You’ve had a pleasant run!
    Shall we be trotting home again?’
    But answer came there none–
    And this was scarcely odd, because
    They’d eaten every one.

    from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872

    Best to you both.

  2. Brant Marsh says:

    When it comes to eating, it’s a well-established rule that good taste trumps good nutrition, almost all the time. It’s true that a growing number of Americans will lean toward eating something that seems to be better for them as long as it’s delicious, but it has to be delicious first.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s