7/ OLD MEN/ CHANTERELLES/ BABA GHANNOOJ

Last Wednesday night, Michael and I went to hear a Cornell Summer Lecture Series talk by M.H. Abrams, “On Reading Poems Aloud.” Abrams will turn 96 next Wednesday (we share the same birthday, a few decades apart) and has taught literature at Cornell since 1945, along with editing the Norton Anthology of American Literature for about as long. He was energetic, well spoken, gently hilarious, and moving. He gave us seven poems: first, his thoughts on each, then a warm reading. It was delightful to slow down and listen, carefully, to the elements of language and remember how much is communicated in so little: a consonant, a breath, a pause, a broken rhythm, a shortened line ending, a made-up word. The last poem Abrams read, and the only modern one, was written by the late A.R. Ammons, who taught in Cornell’s MFA program. It evokes my father’s request that his ashes be strewn in the New Mexico desert, where he loved to walk and explore.

MANSION

So it came time

for me to cede myself

and I chose

the wind

to be delivered to

The wind was glad

and said it needed all

the body

it could get

to show its motions with

and wanted to know

willingly as I hoped it would

if it could do

something in return

to show its gratitude

When the tree of my bones

rises from the skin I said

come and whirlwinding

stroll my dust

around the plain

so I can see

how the ocotillo does

and how saguaro-wren is

and when you fall

with evening

fall with me here

where we can watch

the closing up of day

and think how morning breaks

—A.R. Ammons

As we left the reading, Michael commented, “I hope I don't start moving like an old man until I’m 96.” (A slightly different video version of Abram’s lecture, which also ends with “Mansion,” is available on the web at: http://nationalhumanitiescenter.org/newsrel2007/prabramsfellowship.htm)

On Thursday night, we watched Jimmy Carter: Man from Plains, a film documentary by Jonathan Demme about the 39th president’s controversial book, Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid. What most impressed me was Carter’s ability, at 84, to remain himself and to speak clearly and firmly out of his own beliefs while being criticized, misquoted, harangued, talked down to, and heckled in public. Carter spoke in different voices to different groups. For example, with Palestinians, he spoke primarily about their need to contain violence and take responsibility for their elected government’s actions. With Israelis, he emphasized their need to return lands to the Palestinians and take down the walls. Nobody was happy with him. But he was trying to voice in each situation, I think, what was being left out of that particular conversation. It takes a lot of self to do that. In the final scenes of the film, Jimmy and Rosalynn were biking along a red dirt road in Georgia—not bad for 84 and 81.

There must be lots of these amazing old men around; I want to hear more from them.

Early Friday morning, on a walk out South Hill, Michael and I saw a destroying angel mushroom (Amanita virosa). It's one of the most poisonous mushrooms but pure white and exquisitely beautiful. That cued Michael to check out a secret mushroom spot, and there we found a broad sweep of yellow-orange chanterelles (Cantharellus cibarius) under the oaks! Many of them, most of them unfortunately, were already too old and wormy, but we were able to gather a large handful to take home for lunch. What visually distinguishes chanterelles from the mildly poisonous jack-o-lantern mushrooms (Omphalotus illudens) is the branched veins under the cap all the way to the edge (which I think you can see in the photograph) rather than parallel gills. We sautéed the chanterelles in olive oil and ate them on toast with lemon juice and black pepper.

Today, I bought an eggplant at the farmer’s market and made the first baba ghannooj of the season. It was the best either of us can remember. Was it the extra dose of lemon juice? the fresh garlic? the Arrowhead Mills tahini? or maybe just the fact that we haven’t tasted baba ghannooj in nine months? There is nothing else like it: roasty fragrance, airy texture of whipped cream, sharp lemon acidity. Here’s the recipe I use:

BABA GHANNOOJ

1 unblemished eggplant, about 1 lb.
1 large clove garlic, coarsely chopped
¼ c. lemon juice (or half again as much)
¼ c. finely chopped sweet onion
½ t. salt
1 T. good olive oil
2 T. tahini

Pierce the unpeeled eggplant all round with a sharp fork and broil it on the highest oven shelf until thoroughly charred—blackened—on all sides and a fragrance fills the kitchen. While the eggplant broils, about 15-20 minutes, whir the remaining ingredients together in a blender until completely smooth. When the eggplant is done, cool it somewhat, slice it open, and scrape the chunks of pulp into the blender. Blend the entire contents again until smooth.

Pour into a shallow bowl and drizzle another T. of olive oil over the top. Serve the baba ghannnooj as soon as possible with an array of sliced fresh vegetables—cucumber, carrot, radish, pepper—or with fresh French bread or whole-grain pitas or corn chips.

Baba ghannooj is light and airy, effervescent almost, when just made, but it loses taste and texture after refrigeration. So I recommend eating it all up before the end of the day.

Happy summer eating.

—Jane