Entertainments

A Concert: Shakti's 50th Anniversary Tour

The fusion music of the group Shakti featured at a concert at our local concert space, Hill Auditorium that we attended last Thursday. The University Musical Society of the University of Michigan presents a whole series of concerts each year: this was the first of the 2023-2024 season. The Shakti musicians are: John McLaughlin, Zakir Hussain, Shankar Mahadevan, Ganesh Rajagopalan, and Selvaganesh Vinayakram. The opener by Béla Fleck was also great.

Béla Fleck getting ready to play the banjo. I loved his version of “Rhapsody in Blue.”

Shakti — fantastic music! It’s Indian. It’s rock music. It’s indescribable.

A New Classic Film: Barbie

When Barbie drinks, there's no water in the cup -- it's all pretend play!

 A Ghost Story: Silver Nitrate

Silvia Moreno-Garcia really knows how to write scary stories!
Silver Nitrate is fun to read. Detailed review NOW HERE.

Remembering Fernando Botero (1932-2023)

Fernando Botero, "Mona Lisa," 1979. (source)

Fernando Botero, the Columbian artist, died this week. I remember him especially for his parodies of Mona Lisa. His obituary in the LA Times said that his "depictions of people and objects in plump, exaggerated forms became emblems of Colombian art around the world." (source)

UPDATE:  I posted a more detailed summary of the man and his work HERE.

 Fernando Botero, "Mona Lisa, Age 12," 1959. (source)

The NY Times described one of his early successes: 

"In 1961, the New York curator Dorothy Miller bought a Botero work, “Mona Lisa, Age Twelve,” for the Museum of Modern Art. It was a surprising choice, since Abstract Expressionism was then the rage, and Mr. Botero’s sketchy portrait of a chubby-cheeked child seemed out of place. It was placed on exhibit while the original Mona Lisa was being shown uptown, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art." (source)

Reviews and photos © 2023 mae sander.

Shared with Sunday Salon at Readerbuzz.

Shared on Monday with Elizabeth's Blog Party.

Much More than Just a Cookbook!

 

This cookbook was published this week, and I just received my copy!

The World Central Kitchen Cookbook offers a wide variety of recipes, but also many stories about how the World Central Kitchen (WCK), in its 13 year history has helped the victims of fires, floods, earthquakes, hurricanes, and other disasters. This cookbook provides many really interesting recipes. Introductions to the chapters and to the recipes also tell the story of the organization and photos of the many workers, beneficiaries, and participants in its activities. 

I was interested in learning more about the WCK founder, chef José Andrés, a celebrity culinary personality whose restaurants have been widely recognized. Not content to feed the elite, he explains, he has tried to feed people who really need food. Because his approach is to find culturally appropriate foods for each new location, the recipes in this book are international, authentic, and very appealing. 

World Central Kitchen is a remarkable organization, mainly known for speedy response to natural and human-caused disasters that leave people without food, shelter, and family. WCK has fed people In Puerto Rico and Haiti after severe hurricanes left people homeless and hungry, in Beirut after a gigantic explosion destroyed much of the city, in refugee camps on the US-Mexican border, and in many other affected locations, most recently in Maui after the wildfire last month. WCK has developed the resources and equipment needed to come in quickly and prepare meals for the disaster victims, usually in cooperation with local restaurateurs, local organizations, and local volunteers.

Of many relief organizations, I believe that WCK has one of the most impressive philosophies of how to help. I’ve mentioned them often before. I’ll let you know more about the book when I have prepared some of the recipes!

In 2014, we had lunch at José Andrés’ Mexican restaurant Oyamel in Washington, D.C.
I enormously respect this chef for his culinary AND charitable accomplishments!
By the way, in the lower-right photo Miriam is trying a grasshopper taco.

Blog post © mae sander 2023

“No Meat Required”

Do I mind reading about an obsession with tofu, tempeh, seitan, 

and soy products in general? Sometimes I do mind. 

Sometimes the soy-based mindset of this author does bug me...

No Meat Required: The Cultural History and Culinary Future of Plant-Based Eating

Alicia Kennedy's reasons for eating less meat (or in her case NO meat) started very much like my motivation: she agrees with the principles that gave me and my husband cause to reduce our meat consumption three years ago. Writing about her book, she said:

"To write about food means always occupying the realm of the ordinary. We can be reporting on deforestation for palm oil production, the destruction of mangroves for shrimp harvests, or the atrocious working and animal welfare conditions in industrial meat-processing, but, for the reader, it will all come back to the grocery store, the kitchen, and the menu they’re faced with at a restaurant. How do we navigate this thorny terrain—which includes labor rights, climate change, loss of biodiversity, corporate greed, colonialism—without overwhelming but instead empowering, entertaining, and encouraging that reader?" (source: Navigating the Thorny Terrain of Food Writing)

In reading the book, I wished that she had adhered more to these issues and less towards personality sketches of vegan advocates, owners of vegan restaurants, vegan revolutionaries who want to overthrow the government through diet, feminists who see meat as a tool of the patriarchy, and famous cookbook writers like Molly Katzen or Frances Moore Lappé from the second half of the 20th century. 

Sure, I remember those 1970s potlucks where the more hip-type people brought bland casseroles made of lumpy brown rice and greens, probably a recipe from Frances Moore Lappé's Diet for a Small Planet (1971) or Molly Katzen's Moosewood Cookbook (1974). I remember bake sales with carob flavored "brownies" that had so much whole-grain that they took the skin off the roof of your mouth. I remember a health-food store where the bread was moldy and the clerk said that was good because it showed the bread contained no poisonous additives -- yes, I thought, I want to be sick now, not 40 years in the future when the additives might catch up with me. And I remember vegetarian restaurants through the years with a different philosophy every decade.

I did enjoy her descriptions of the way that many food trends and innovations begin small but are taken over by huge money-making corporations and big-money interests. Or of exploitation of desperate and poorly-treated workers who produce specialty foods. The author writes:

“What does it matter if the cashew cheese is vegan if the hands of a woman in India have been irreparably damaged by the nut shell’s toxin? What does it matter if Oatly is in every coffee shop if one of its stakeholders is Blackstone, a private equity firm also invested in a company deforesting the Amazon and led by a CEO who donated $3 million to a super PAC supporting Trump’s re-election? More vegan food doesn’t inevitably lead to a more just world, but it does let a lot of companies greenwash their money-making in its name.” (p. 144)

When I bought Kennedy's book, I signed on for a memory tour of all this "cultural history." Some of it is familiar to me, some is new, some is interesting, and some is boring. But I'm not that enthusiastic about such a long version of vegan history in American life. I just want to eat less meat, and I see it as a humanitarian decision that doesn't need overthinking. By the way — I don't want to eat tofu too often.

In sum: No Meat Required talks much more about people than about food. It's not about vegetables, it's about vegetarians/vegans. It's not about recipes, it's about recipe writers. It's not about cooking, it's about chefs. It's not about eating, it's about theories of eating. It's about the politics of choosing food, whether one shops in a supermarket or a farmers’ market. It’s not about the food itself (except the author’s disgust for eating flesh) but about other concerns like whether one is concerned about big agriculture or about the great profits to be made from artificial meat. 

Social issues predominate several chapters of the book. For example, the racism in selecting cookbooks for publication or the bigotry in promoting culinary personalities to media stardom. The author documents a systemic lack of recognition of non-mainstream cultures and cuisines. Mediocre white writers have a much easier time than outstanding minority writers. The various ways that Black groups embraced vegetarianism has been pretty much ignored by the culinary establishment: the author includes interesting discussions of Black writers and popularizers of vegetarian diets.

Food justice, food economics, food history, food as a cause of climate change, and food capitalism -- all are noteworthy topics in Kennedy's book. She describes the history and technology of manufacturing soy milk and cashew cheese, and the products of trendy bakeries and faddish restaurants. She also presents her own experiences and tastes and quirks about food — how she likes nut-based fake cheese but not real dairy cheese; adores tofu, tempeh, and seitan; doesn’t like fake meat and reviles real meat, but likes patties made from grain and beans. She favors mushrooms but completely ignores salad — it doesn’t play a role in her life or in the book. Her dislikes are expressed so much more vividly than her likes, that I wonder if she really enjoys eating at all.

Oddly, Kennedy says very little about basic vegan foods like bread, rice, pasta, fruit, or vegetables. This bothered me: these are the foods I most rely on. Specific example: the word “tomato” only occurs three times in the entire book. Similarly, she mentions potatoes, sweet potatoes, rice, apples, and oranges only a few times each. Her focus is just not on the food!

To summarize: I find  the book to be a polemic. Maybe I have written too much about what the author didn’t say — but in the end, it’s not really what I wanted to read.

My idea of a vegetarian meal. Even after reading the entire book, I’m not sure mine is the same as her idea.
Note: that’s homemade bread and local corn and tomatoes. ALL her mentions of corn are negative.

Review © 2023 mae sander

 

Birding at Lake Erie Metropark and the Arb

At Lake Erie Metropark

Kingfisher.

Two Grebes.

Great Blue Heron.

Great Egret.

These hunters had gone out for several hours, beginning at 5:30 AM.
Using the goose decoys that are in the boat, they had shot a number of geese, which they said they planned to eat.

At the Hawk Watch at Lake Erie Metropark, professionals and dedicated amateurs watch for hawks in migration.
Very large numbers of hawks of several species funnel through this narrow area between the lakes.
Only a few of them were sighted while we were there, though on some lucky days they number in the thousands.

 

At the Arboretum

Blog post and all photos © 2023 mae sander

Thinking About the Lotus

Lake Erie Metropark has several ponds with large fields of wild-growing American Lotus.
The American lotus, Nelumbo lutea, is the only native lotus in North America.
We walked there this weekend, as well as having been there a few weeks ago (post).

Lotus leaves and stalks protrude above the surface of the water. The seed pods, as shown here,
have a characteristic shape with holes for the round seeds.

More lotus at Lake Erie Metropark, located down the Huron River from Ann Arbor.

 

Lotus root is also a delicious vegetable, used in Chinese cuisine.
This sweet & sour lotus root was from the restaurant Mama Chang in Fairfax, VA.

The Sacred Lotus

In Buddhism, the lotus is a sacred symbol of purity and other virtues. 
This Buddha statue in my back garden is seated in the Lotus Position; that is, with crossed legs.
The base of the statue represents the petals of the lotus flower.

An Asian lotus at Lotusland, a botanical garden in Santa Barbara (2003)

Shinobazu Lotus Pond in Ueno Park, Tokyo, 2011. One of many famous places for lotus.

“Lotus Pond at Shinobazu at Ueno,” Hiroshiga Ando (1797-1858)
In Tokyo in 2011, I walked past this pond several times, but it was winter — no lotus blossoms!

The Lotus and the Water Lily

A water lily floats on the surface of the water along with its leaves at Kent Lake in Michigan.
The floating leaves and flowers distinguish the water lily from the lotus.

Several types of exotic water lilies at Longwood Gardens in Pennsylvania.
Some types of tropical water lilies have huge leaves, big enough for a person to stand on.

You can’t think about water lilies without thinking about Monet. At the Orangerie in Paris, where
I took this photo in 2019, you can see the enormous water lily paintings. Everyone takes a photo!

Blog post and photos © 2003-2023 mae sander

"Newcomer" by Keigo Higashino

Keigo Higishino (b. 1958) is a very popular mystery writer and winner of a number of Japanese awards for his work. His two most famous characters, each the hero of a series of novels, are Detective Galileo and Detective Kaga. I have read three of the novels in each series, which I believe are the only ones translated into English. I've been enjoying a lot of Japanese fiction recently, and I might read even more. 

Higashino's Newcomer, published in Japan in 2009 and in the US in 2018, features Detective Kyoichiro Kaga, a very observant policeman. While investigating a murder, Kaga succeeds in noticing and connecting all the small details about actions and motives of many people. Some were bystanders; others might have been involved with the victim: a woman found strangled on the floor of her apartment by a friend. He scrutinizes every lead he can find, despite the impatience of his end-of-career partner, who just wants to pin the crime on someone and go home.

In reading Newcomer, I especially liked Higashino's choice of starting with a number of short chapters written from the point of view of the potential witnesses. As he observes their demeanor, their homes, their businesses, their way of life, and how they reacted to his questioning, we learn about the detective and his methods. It's clear in the early stages of the investigation that Kaga has no theories or suspects, but is simply finding out all he can.

This series of interviews, mainly in small and very retro shops, reveals a lot about the neighborhood where the victim lived. She had often made small purchases in the shops -- particularly, just a short time before her death. Besides illuminating the environment of the crime, Higashino provides a delightful tour of these small, out-of-date businesses, which manufacture and sell old-fashioned merchandise like rice crackers, traditional sweet pastries, hand-made toys, custom tools, and old-fashioned clocks. Whether the shopkeepers and their families had any role in the murder or not, these vignettes of Old Tokyo life are a pleasure to read.

Once these interviews are completed, the author builds suspense very effectively (as you would expect from a prize-winning writer of detective fiction). The identity of the murderer is never obvious, and narrowing down the search is a fascinating endeavor. Kaga is masterful! I enjoyed this novel quite a bit. I've also read quite a few of the others by Higashino that are available in English translation, and I hope to read the next one that is scheduled to be published soon.

A small, traditional shop front — from my visit to Tokyo in 2011.

Blog post and photo © 2011, 2023 mae sander

Drinking Water in Art

A woman drawing water from a well
from De Universo by Rabano Mauro, 1023

Diego Velázquez, "The Waterseller of Seville," 1620.

Jean Siméon Chardin, "Water Glass and Jug," 1760.

Francisco Goya, "The Water Carrier," 1812.

Katsukawa Shunkō, "Three Water Carriers at the Shore." Around 1800.

Utagawa Kuniyoshi, "The Maidservant Hatsu-Jo Drinking Water," 1841-1842.

Pierre-August Renoir, detail from “The Luncheon of the Boating Party,” 1880-1881.

Henri Matisse, "Still Life with Lemon" (Nature morte au citron), 1917.

Diego Rivera, detail from murals at Detroit Institute of Arts, 1932-1933.

Pablo Picasso, “Glass and Pitcher,” 1944.

Roy Lichtenstein, "Still Life with Lemon & Glass," 1974

Street Art from Philadelphia's "Drink More Tap" campaign, 2021. (Source)

Last week, I wrote about how pure drinking water is essential, but often ignored, in modern life, and how millions of people in the world lack access to this necessity. See my post: “Water: a Privilege.”  Writing about drinking water made me curious about how it’s been represented in art in various eras: as I searched for these images I found it much easier to locate art works about wine than about water! I’m sharing this with Sami’s blog where art in the form of murals is celebrated, and with Elizabeth’s weekly celebration of beverages.

Blog post © mae sander; art from Wikipedia and other collections.

The Village of Eight Graves

 

The Village of Eight Graves, edition published in 2021.

Seishi Yokomizo (1902-1981) wrote very compelling murder mysteries, mainly featuring private detective Kosuke Kindaichi. In The Village of Eight Graves, which was first published in 1950, Kindaichi, with his usual strange appearance in raggedy cloths and his quirky habit of scratching his head, hovers in the background, but is very much essential to identifying the perpetrator of a series of very grizzly deaths, mainly by vicious rapid-acting poison. Here is the narrator's first impression of Kindaichi:

"He must have been thirty-five or thirty-six. He was of slight build and had shaggy hair, and no matter the angle at which you looked at him, he seemed distinctly unimpressive. To make matters worse, he was wearing an old and threadbare serge hakama: at best, he looked like a village clerk or a primary school teacher. And to top it all off, he seemed to have a slight stutter." (The Village of Eight Graves, p. 87). 

I enjoyed reading the descriptions of a village in Japan in around 1950. Unlike several of the other novels by Yokomizo, this one doesn't have a lot of detail about the recent war and its desperate aftermath: the characters seem to have returned to a more normal way of life, though there are mentions of some of their wartime experiences and traumas. Among the details are many food references, but most of them are obsessively related to the painful sudden deaths at the hands of the unknown poisoner! Eventually every innocent rice ball or dish of pickles is suspect. For example, after one of the victims, a Dr. Kuno, is found to have been poisoned from eating rice balls, his wife explains why she couldn't have been the one who gave him this food:

"Dr Kuno’s wife testified that his flight had been so sudden and unexpected that nobody could have prepared any food for him to take. Furthermore, he was so unskilled with these things that there was no way that he could have prepared them for himself. Even assuming, at a stretch, that he had tried to prepare them at home, somebody would surely have noticed. After insisting on all of this, Mrs Kuno blushed to add that her family, large as it was, always worried about not having enough food to put on the table. In recent years, they had lacked the money even to cook white rice, let alone to make rice balls." (p. 256). 

 

The narrator of this novel is a kind of innocent bystander who is drawn in by a variety of coincidences and mysterious connections with the people in this story. Until he received a call from a lawyer in the city where he lived and worked, he thought he knew his own identity — but he has nothing but surprises in store for him as he becomes enmeshed in the terrible history of the village to which he is called. The prologue to the novel describes a horrific crime spree by a murderous man which occurred around 25 years before the action of the novel, and which preoccupies the villagers throughout the story.

The atmosphere of this story is particularly chilling because so much of the action takes place in a labyrinthine network of limestone caves beneath the village. Twisty passages connect to one another in a very scary way, and a deep pool of water is the object of superstitious avoidance. The narrator is constantly having to hide in these passages, and he makes several surprising discoveries as he explores them with a lovely young woman from the village.

As in several other works by Ykomizo, Japanese traditions and folklore, like goblins, are often part of the story. For example, various rock formations in the caverns have names from folklore -- particularly a formation called “The Goblin’s Nose.” To illustrate a goblin's nose, I've selected a woodblock print of a goblin with an elephant, by Japanese artist Utagawa Kuniyoshi (1797-1861). 

Other traditions that the narrator mentions include the Noh drama: a particular Noh mask turns out to conceal a spy hole in the wall of a family home. Japanese religious traditions are also part of the story, and several Buddhist priests and nuns play an important role in the village and in the suspenseful drama of the murders and attempts to find the perpetrator.

Having read several other mystery novels by this lastingly popular writer, I can see why his works continue to be so successful in Japan. Every one is different from the others, and surprising in plot, setting, and characters, though Kindaichi appears in most of them. Yokomizo’s mysteries have been dramatized in a variety of TV shows in Japan, and even in video games.

Review © 2023 mae sander