But Franklin's reasons for this ordering are a little over-determined since, as he regularly brags, Temperance comes easily to him. This is a man who advises that to save money, those in the career-building phase might imitate him in regularly eating oatmeal or cornmeal mush for supper, or else "a Slice of Bread, a Handful of Raisins...and a Glass of Water." With such a diet, Franklin exempted himself from meals with his family (he was working for his brother), using the time he saved to learn mathematics. He credited his rapid progress in the subject to the clear-headedness produced by his Temperate eating.
Similarly, just a few pages into the Autobiography, Franklin notes that, like his father,
I was brought up in such a perfect Inattention to those Matters as to be quite Indifferent what kind of Food was set before me; and so unobservant of it, that to this Day, if I am ask'd I can scarce tell, a few Hours after Dinner, what I din'd upon. This has been a Convenience to me in traveling...By "those Matters" Franklin refers to his father's disinterest in the type of food he ate at any given meal, "whether it was well or ill drest, in or out of season," its flavor, and its quality in relation to other possible foods.
Now, I live in the Pacific Northwest, a region where issues of seasonality, flavor, and preparation are essentially the local religion. Long before I moved here, I cared about food. Far from considering an indifference to food an advantage when traveling, I regularly plan trips around the restaurants to be visited and available cuisines to be sampled.
Moreover this, my first week as a Virtue Projector, was also my first chance for R&R in months: Spring Break, with my grades in and no new teaching upcoming. I was headed to Portland with T. for the weekend and uneasy about how this would jibe with Temperance Week. For instance, I felt reasonably certain that Franklin wouldn't have spent the night before a trip surfing the web looking at menus, and trying to figure out whether he should leave early enough on Friday to allow for three brunches in the weekend.
But what exactly would exceed Franklin's definitions of Temperance, assuming that the locally foraged nettles and the well-mixed, innovative cocktails featured on nearly every one of those internet menus couldn't penetrate his indifference? Despite his endorsement of cornmeal mush and his intermittent vegetarianism, Franklin's instructions for Temperance are reasonably open, dwelling not on the content of the menu (since he barely noticed it), but the mental impact of the food consumed: "Eat not to Dullness; Drink not to Elevation."
I wasn't sure I wanted to stay within the bounds of even this latitude. I had been looking forward to the food on this trip for a long time. But...it was Virtue Project Week 1. Now or never?
At first it wasn't too bad. We didn't brunch on Friday, and with dullness and elevation in mind at lunch, I settled for a thin sandwich (lox and cream cheese on rye) and had broccolini with chili flakes with it, instead of a pastry, at Elephants Deli. Was I dull? Would a pastry have made me dull? I wasn't even sure I was full.
By dinner I was starved. Blackened catfish on cheese grits, fried okra and (since I'm a lightweight, and a pint would definitely have elevated me) just a little bit of black ale at Delta Cafe still felt within the bounds of responsible non-dullness.
Saturday brunch was indulgent and delicious, but hardly dullness-inducing, cinnamon french toast and a scrambled egg at the preciously-named "Bijou, cafe" in the Pearl. Coffee, that classic of mental acuity, the nectar of the Protestant work ethic itself, preserved my sharpness. Not bad.
But dinner...we had an early reservation at Grüner. After a dense, chewy pretzel, a jenga-like tower of endive, apple, fourme d'ambert and hazelnuts with hazelnut oil vinaigrette made me forget the unhappy couple seated next to us who arrived separately and sniped at each other through dinner. And finally I got to sample the spring nettles, combined with ricotta in dumplings, and covered with butter, parmesan, and a generous helping of trumpet mushrooms. Portland battled with Franklin and insisted that I drink the entire large glass of Grüner Veltliner. As a lightweight, I was beyond elevated, happily planning future trips with T. and talking at random about learning foreign languages to do so. Afterward, it only made sense to ignore the endless chilly rain and stop for a healthy portion of mocha and cinnamon gelato, returning to the hotel to continue the northern European theme by watching a Swedish film in a dull, elevated blur.
Next: the first week's scorecard.
I'm definitely not the person to comment on Temperance, but I'd say that it would take more than one pastry to make you dull, my friend. Also, wouldn't Elevation cancel out Dullness?
ReplyDelete- The Bad Angel
That represents an interesting strategy! (Though what do you do about the elevation?) Yes, the pastry problem posed as such is a misstep -- one of the interesting things about this system is that, for all that Franklin has been held up as the ur-American ethic, his way of relating to food ethically is not at at Puritanical in our usual sense. I.e. no guilt about -what- you eat (though his vegetarianism was rooted in a conventional ethical frame as well as appealing to him for its frugality) or about, say, its calories: just the mental impact of what we consume. I had trouble getting my head around it at first, I think. This will probably be a matter of discussion in the next Temperance cycle...
ReplyDeleteElevation: that seems obvious. Eat a pastry.
ReplyDeleteWhat would he consider Dull-making, then, if not calories or meat? Just portion size? I wonder if it's grounded in any of the culinary/diet theories of the day.