Mar 04 2014
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Ash Wednesday, Carnevale, Lent, Shrove Tuesday

Pancakes for Supper

Pancakes

Tonight the festivity of the Carnival season comes to a close. It is Mardi Gras, Martedì Grasso… Fat Tuesday in English, Shrove Tuesday is the more common name. It is the last night for excess, for the morning will bring the solemnness of Ash Wednesday beginning the forty days of Lent.

Mardi Gras is not a big deal for most of the United States; we are not a Carnival people, by and large. There are dramatic exceptions to this and the Mardi Gras celebration at New Orleans is probably what comes to mind first for most Americans. An old acquaintance of mine from Alabama would be quick to point out that the earliest organized Mardi Gras celebrations occurred in Mobile. In fact, celebrations marking the end of Carnival were prevalent in Mobile and New Orleans as well as Pensacola and Biloxi… places that were colonized by the French and the Spanish long before English influences took hold.

While the English were not big on Carnival celebration, there were, nonetheless, traditions to be followed to mark the transition from Ordinary Time to Lent, for the fasting of Lent came out of necessity: by the end of winter, stored provisions were running low and the bounty of spring and early summer was still many weeks away. Even if there was no Lent, with its stern restrictions on meat, as well as milk and cheese and eggs and butter (Lent was more restrictive earlier on), these restrictions would probably have been a necessity all the same. Carnival in Latin-influenced countries became a time to use up what was left and to use it up in grand style through community-wide celebrations that lasted for days or weeks. In England and its colonies, this translated into one day of excess, and the excess took the form of pancakes.

Pancakes for supper? Why, yes. This is what Shrove Tuesday is all about. (Well, also it’s about confessing your sins and getting right with God––but it is pancakes that most folks will associate with the day.) And so for most of us in the United States there are no masks and parades and beads for Mardi Gras… but for a lot of us, there are pancakes on the menu tonight. It was, early on, a way of using up all the eggs, milk, and sugar that remained in the larder before the 40 fasting days of Lent commenced, and the tradition of eating pancakes the Tuesday before Lent continues on even now.

In Germany, the tradition calls for doughnuts tonight, and the night is known as Fasnacht or Faschnacht. The idea is the same: using up all the remaining lard, sugar, and butter before Lent begins. But whether it is pancakes or doughnuts, there is something special about eating breakfast for dinner, or about eating homemade doughnuts after dinner. It’s a little something, nothing dramatic, just something that marks the day, something celebratory, reminding us of the importance of enjoying what we have. Tomorrow comes Lent. Tomorrow we are reminded of the brevity of things. The reality is we are very fortunate and we should do our best to remember the gifts we’ve been given… like this, another Mardi Gras, another Fasnacht, another Shrove Tuesday. Laissez les bon temps rouler!

 

Image: “Throwing the Pancake on Shrove Tuesday in Westminster School,” from the Chambers Bros. Book of Days, Edinburgh, 1869.

 

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Mar 01 2014
St. David's Day

Leeks & Daffodils

St David

The First of March brings St. David’s Day, sacred to Wales, where the day is marked by an abundance of daffodils and leeks. Most folks there will be wearing leeks and daffodils on their lapels today in honor of St. David. They both are national symbols: the daffodil being a basic symbol of Wales, much like the thistle is a symbol of Scotland, and as for the leek, that’s a more interesting story, as it goes back to an ancient battle in which the Welsh troops wore leeks in their caps in order to distinguish themselves from the Saxon troops they were fighting. It’s also interesting, I think, that the Welsh for leek (cenhinen) is so close to the Welsh for daffodil (cenhinen pedr). It is said that over the centuries there was so much confusion about the two that both were adopted as symbols. The green and white colors of those leeks and daffodils also recall the royal green and white of Ancient Britain.

The daffodil may be prettier, but the leek is delicious, which cannot be said for daffodils. I love buying leeks at the market and I love cooking with leeks. And though I am generally not a person who is easily embarrassed, I think it’s safe to say that leeks played a distinct role in my Most Embarrassing Moment, which are moments we all have, of course.

That moment came for me many years ago at dinner with my family. We were at a swanky restaurant, and swanky is not something my family typically does, so I think we were, from the start, on high alert. This, of course, only makes embarrassing moments easier to conjure, as you sit there, buttons buttoned, ties knotted, out of your element. It was Mom and Dad and my sister and my two nephews, who were probably in middle school and high school at the time. We were waiting for the other folks to arrive, the folks who had invited us, but in the meantime we were seated and looking over the fancy menu. Something on the menu was made with leeks, and my youngest nephew leaned over to ask his mom what are leeks and would he like them? I overheard this question and explained that leeks were of the genus Allium, related to garlic and onions and that they were in fact kind of like onions. And then I proclaimed, rather boldly, that “I would take a leek over an onion any day,” which of course sounds different than it reads, and the words left my mouth just a split second before my brain could stop them from doing so and the sentence hung there in the swanky restaurant air for just a second or two, right there over the table, above the crystal and the fine silver and crisp white linens, until an audible snort gushed from my nephew’s nose and there may have been sprayed water that ushered from the other’s mouth and it became pretty clear right then and there that we are not a swanky dining people, my family. And so that is my leek story. I wanted to crawl under the table at the time, but the good news is I’ve overcome that and I don’t think I’ve been embarrassed since. We all have these moments, and I’m pretty sure no one in the swanky restaurant that night remembers the guy who would so gladly “take a leak over an onion.” Life is too short to let embarrassment control it.

And despite our petty worries, spring proceeds and burgeons and in Wales, the daffodils and leeks are vigorously growing now. And there is something about Wales that is hard to pin down, but the place seems to drip with magic. St. David is said to have been the son of a prince of Cardiganshire of the ancient regal line of Cunedda Wledig. Some also state that he was the son of Xanthus, son of Ceredig, lord of Ceredigion, and Non, daughter of Gynyr of Caergawh, Pembrokeshire. The names alone sound magical. Early biographers claimed that St. David was able to work miracles, not just after his birth, but even before he was born.

St. David’s Day brings in March and March comes with traditional weather markers: March is known to begin and end in opposites: If the month comes in as a lion, it will go out as a lamb, and of course the opposite is thought to be true then: in like a lamb, out like a lion. The first three days of March are ancient saints’ days: St. David is followed by St. Chad on the Second and St. Winnal on the Third. The three days taken together are often part of old weather lore. St. Winnal’s Day especially is generally expected to be particularly stormy.

First comes David,
Next comes Chad,
Then comes Winnal,
Roaring mad.

Also, So many mists in March you see, So many frosts in May will be. Here in Lake Worth, March is always one of our most beautiful months. Garrison Keillor has called March “the month God created to show people who do not drink what a hangover feels like,” but that’s not the case here in Lake Worth. Check back with us in August, though.

It’s the First of the month, so head over to our website for the newest Book of Days printable monthly calendar!

 

Image: St. David, as he is often depicted, riding a goat, from the Chambers Bros. Book of Days, 1869. One of the traditions of St. David’s Day is the baking of gingerbread “taffies” by English bakers… not so much a celebration as a mockery of the day. The taffies were baked in the shape of a Welshman riding a goat. The English are more directly descended from the Saxons who were defeated by the leek-donning Welsh at that ancient battle, so they weren’t the biggest fans of St. David. Do you see the leek in the engraving?

 

 

Feb 22 2014
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Lake Worth Street Painting Festival

Ephemeral

Man in the Moon

Here in Lake Worth it’s our 20th Annual Street Painting Festival this weekend, and it is raining as I write this. Just a bit, a little shower with some lightning in the distance, just enough to keep us on our toes. But it always rains during the Street Painting Festival. God’s way, perhaps, of saying, Yep, that’s a pretty nifty trick you Lake Worthers have come up with: closing down the main streets downtown and creating exquisite artworks on the pavement, paintings made of chalk on asphalt… but I’m still in charge.

There is an old joke my grandfather used to tell about two guys at an outdoor concert. They’ve gone to hear the local orchestra, no doubt playing something by Puccini or Rossini, but suddenly there is a rumble of thunder and a burst of lightning and the sky opens up and the rain scatters everyone, orchestra and audience alike. The two friends are drenched. Under cover of a rooftop in the square, one friend says to the other, “Eh, se Dio non capisce di musica ….” That is, “If God doesn’t understand about music….” well then, what can you do?

So maybe God doesn’t understand about art. There are, nonetheless, great masterpieces created each year on the streets of Downtown Lake Worth, and it is a great lesson in letting go, for these artworks are as ephemeral as they get. They last only until the next rain, and even if is should stay dry for a few days, as soon as the traffic returns to town the artwork is under foot and under wheels and dust quickly returns to dust.

Last year’s Saturday night rain at the Street Painting Festival was a real gully-washer. This year, so far, it is just a light rain, a few passing showers. Nothing more than an annoyance, but still, a reminder. Meanwhile, the air tonight smells of rain, the smell of ozone carried on the wind. The smell is clean, fresh, and it is carried over the streets of Lake Worth, over the rooftops, through the palms and orange trees, across the lagoon, over the dunes and out onto the deep dark Atlantic.

Image by Convivio neighbor Guy Icangelo, who photographed this street painting on Lake Avenue. This year’s Street Painting Festival has an old movie theme, and this iconic image is from an early silent film. Do you recognize it?

 

 

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