Culinary critics were barred from the first annual Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas Dinner Party. Here’s the invite:
We feared the evening would devolve into ordering pizza, but, oh, that we had invited them to sample our fare! The menu was simple and spare. In a land known for b-b-q, Alice B. Toklas’ called for Shrimps in Butter, Madame Loubet’s Asparagus Tips, and Le Or-ange Cake.
Our salon had hints of Texas. Chickens fluttered in the backyard. Their eggs were used in the cake batter. The adorable, newly hatched ducklings provided the evening’s entertainment.
But I wonder, what changes existed between a Gertrude and Alice salon and our salon (aside from the fowl on the property)? Our dinner conversation began high-brow enough, largely concerning recent finds at the Harry Ransom Center. We avoided politics, tended toward art and literature, and, of course, devolved into gossip. This ebb and flow would, I imagine, mimic accurately one of Gertrude and Alice’s Parisian salons. We retired outside for cigarettes and rather than post-dinner coffee, continued to sally forth with wine. We ended the night over-served and sucking down the refrigerator’s last Champagne of Beers, another nod to Texas.
I like to imagine that for brief moments our Texas 2008 realities crossed space and time with the realities of those original salons, that poet Becca Wadlinger became Gertrude Stein for the evening. That perhaps I was Alice B. Toklas, though I am not sure that’s a fitting match.
The hosts showing how to not burn the house down
Greg Koehler is surely our Hemmingway, by virtue of his choosing to bring the Banquet Beer and refusing our wine, by virtue of his preference for literature that’s as dirty as a carrot pulled from the earth. A more appropriate Alice B. would probably be poet Sarah E. Smith, who brought the libations and tobacco, which would make poet Catherine Blauvelt our Mina Loy. And late-comer to the dinner, Adam Gardner, should be Pablo Picasso. “We’ll put your plate in the microwave, Pablo,” we said when we called him on his cell phone and asked him to bring more beer.
As to where I fit in, I don’t know who the Gertrude-era-salon-goer most likely to sneak glances at the baseball scores would be. (Why, oh why, did we schedule this on the last day of the season!?) I suppose I choose Sherwood Anderson for my love of Ohio. And if for a few hours of an evening, I can imagine myself a man willing to leave everything behind for his art, so be it.
I think it’s reason enough to get your own copy of The Alice B. Toklas Cookbook or The New Great American Writers Cookbook and throw a salon. Bon Appetit!
RECIPES
Madame Loubet’s Asparagus Tips
Wash quickly, discard white stems. Tie into neat bundles, plunge into boiling salt water. Allow about 8 minutes for cooking. They should not be overcooked; much depends on their freshness. Put aside. Over very low flame put in a saucepan 4 tablespoons of butter (for 1 lb. asparagus). When butter is melted, add asparagus tips still tied in bundles. Add 4 tablespoons heavy cream. Do not stir, but gently dip saucepan in all directions until the asparagus are coated with butter and cream. Then remove from flame. Place asparagus on preheated round dish with the points facing to the edge of the dish. Gently cut the strings with kitchen scissors. In the centre place 1/2 cup heavy whipped cream with 1/2 teaspoon of salt mixed in it. Serve before cream has time to melt. This is a gastronomic feast. And a thing of beauty.
Shrimps in Butter
Fry a chopped onion in sweet butter, add peeled raw shrimps and the juice of 1/2 lemon (or more). Cook for a few minutes until the shrimps have turned pink–no longer–sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve on rice. Don’t use frozen shrimp.
Born and raised in Kentucky, J.W. Donaldson now lives in Texas with his dog, Max. He is the recipient of the Bronx Arts Literary Fellowship, the James. A. Michener Fellowship in fiction, and was a finalist for the Iowa Review’s fiction prize. He works as Fiction Editor of Bat City Review and his work is forthcoming in Confrontation.