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Monthly Archives: March 2011

It’s been a long winter, even for people like me who like to frolic on the slopes. Yesterday felt spring-like but based on the forecast, winter still hasn’t quite lost its grip on upstate New York.

One thing that makes it easier to deal with the cold and damp is soup. Although I’ve always liked soup in restaurants, I didn’t get serious about making it myself until last year, when I bought a French Market bean soup mix at a fundraising event. The first time I made it, I used the entire container of beans rather than two cups as stated in the recipe, and produced a rather ugly sludge. But it was delicious sludge and the next time I tried, it looked better and was still tasty and comforting, as soup should be.

Another recent (and successful) experiment was Butternut Squash and Pear Soup from The Gracious Bowl, which I served to my local writing buddies at a retreat. It has ginger and curry in it—yum! Then after enjoying soup at another writer buddy gathering, I decided to get The Daily Soup Cookbook, by Leslie Kaul and others. I’m looking forward to trying their Wild Mushroom Barley with Chicken, Moroccon Chicken Curry with Couscous and Tuscan Shrimp and White Bean and many others.

I haven’t tried any Regency era recipes yet. The Jane Austen Cookbook, by Maggie Black and Deirdre Le Faye, lists several: a Curry Soup which sounds yummy, a Summer Pease Soup (with cucumbers and mint, which sounds nice but I know my husband will not eat) and White Soup, in the section on “Assemblies and Suppers”. I’ve seen white soup mentioned in novels before, but did not know what it was. First one makes a chicken stock using chicken, bacon, rice, peppercorns, onions, anchovies, herbs and celery. The next day, ground almonds and egg yolk are added to the stock. This doesn’t sound like a very substantial soup, but that makes sense if it’s just a part of a supper.

I suspect many of the soups served at the tables of the wealthy were not the full meal soups I like to make at home. But there were definitely some more hearty soups, like oxtail soup.

One soup that was the height of fashion during the Regency which I will definitely never attempt is Turtle Soup. I doubt I’d try Mock Turtle Soup either, even the versions not involving a calf’s head!

You can find more historical information at “An Appreciation of British Soups” at British Food in America.

The Daily Soup says “You rarely hear anyone emphatically say, ‘I don’t like soup’, and the person who does cannot be trusted”. So I won’t ask if you like soup! I’ll only ask what are your favorites? Have you ever tried any historical recipes? How did they turn out?

Elena

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Hoo, boy, it’s Friday again! And I’ve been trying, valiantly, to find time to write, but the day-job, the other day-job, the Son, the Works-All-The-Time Spouse–well, it’s been hard to find time to match socks, much less get creative.

I don’t know how writers with full-time jobs–I’m looking at you, Carolyn and Janet–do it.

Over at my first day-job, HeroesandHeartbreakers.com, we’ve been talking about book-to-movie adaptations, and discussing which are the Worst Ones Ever.

Eventually, of course, we’ll ask which films are the Best Adaptations? So, as Regency fans, I’ll be more specific: Which historical period films are the best adaptations of Regency (or Georgian, or Victorian–can’t be that specific, or all we’ll talk about is Austen)-era novels?

Off the top of my head, I’d say:

North And South
Clarissa (with a totally foxy, but evil, Sean Bean)
Wives And Daughters
Pride & Prejudice (what–like that wouldn’t be here?)
Persuasion (ditto–but not the Rupert Penry-Jones spittle one. Ugh!)

So what would you choose?

Megan

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I’m still flying high from my trip to the Yale Center for British Art two weeks ago. I’ve blogged about the special Thomas Lawrence exhibit Victoria Hinshaw and I went to see, the place also has a treasure of other British art from the 18th and 19th century.

Here Vicky and I stand before a bust of Prinny (George IV), looking very Roman, however. Prinny, not us!
(Check out Vicky’s blogs from the trip at Number One London)

Here’s the most spectacular painting by George Stubbs (1724-1806). Stubbs is most famous for his paintings of horses and this one is brimming with action.

All the great portrait artists are represented:

Gainsborough

Reynolds

Hoppner
Copley
And another of my favorite artists of the period.

Turner

This museum was just wonderful. Everywhere I turned I found something spectacular to look at and almost all in “our” time period, give or take a few years!!

Have you ever visited a place that stayed with you like this? There is something about this artwork that just won’t let go of me. I felt this way about England when I visited, too.

On Wednesday I’ll be at eHarlequin talking about a certain kind of art, vedute, the souvenir paintings of the Grand Tour.

P.S. My heart goes out to all of Japan in the wake of the earthquake and tsunami. The devastation is massively horrible. May we all figure out some way to help. I lived in Japan as a child when my father was stationed there. I’ll blog about that on Diane’s Blog on Thursday.
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The recent awards season makes me think about famous eccentrics, what makes them eccentric and why we find them entertaining.

I have a theory. I think many of us secretly wish we could do something a little outrageous once in a while. For instance, I love some of the crazy clothing in the Harry Potter movies but would never dare to wear anything like that except to a costume party. Maybe that’s why we love eccentrics, because they appear to be genuinely having fun living an extraordinary life without concern for appearances.

Some eccentrics ring more true to me than others. I might be wrong, but I think people like Helena Bonham Carter and Johnny Depp are the real deal, genuinely a bit mad, and in a good way. Celebrities like Madonna and Lady Gaga (again I could be wrong) come across as more calculated, though they are entertaining in their way.

Many famous figures from the Regency could be considered eccentrics, from Prinny himself to Beau Brummell and other dandies like Poodle Byng. It’s harder for me to tell whether some of these characters donned their idiosyncrasies to get attention or whether they were as eccentric in private.

I think that many of Brummell’s shocking sayings (“Who’s your fat friend?”) were a calculated risk. However, his friend the Princess Frederica Charlotte, Duchess of York, “Freddie” to her friends, seems more of a genuine eccentric. Her marriage was unhappy and she lived in the country, at Oatlands in Surrey, lavishing affection on her pets, which included cats, dogs, birds and monkeys.

“The Duchess’s life is an odd one; she seldom has a female companion, she is read to all night and falls asleep towards morning, and rises about 3; feeds her dozens of dogs and her flocks of birds, &c., comes down two minutes before dinner, and so round again.” – Right Honourable John Wilson Croker, LL.D. F. R. S., Secretary to the Admiralty, 1818

Eccentrics in romance novels are usually secondary characters, the weird great aunt and the like. I’ve tried to think of major characters who are eccentric and came up with a few. Merlin Lambourn, the heroine from Laura Kinsale’s MIDSUMMER MOON is a brilliant inventor but seriously unworldly. I’d call Charles Harcourt, the hero from Judith Ivory’s BEAST, something of an eccentric as well.

Do you enjoy eccentrics? Which are your favorites, real, historical or fictional?

Elena


Last week I finally finished reading the eight books I was sent to judge for the RITA contest.

After that marathon, I said on Twitter, “I finished reading all EIGHT of my RITA books; now reading books by male authors only for awhile. Preferably where people die.” To which a snarky Twitter friend replied, “Oh, so you’re going to try reading like every literary critic in the world for a while.”

Ha! But then I thought about it, and realized that because of my reading tastes, I read primarily female authors. And then, when I strolled back through my reading history, I realized that while I haven’t eschewed male authors–Raymond Chandler, Neal Stephenson, Bernard Cornwell and P.G. Wodehouse are among my favorites–I have always peppered my reading with female authors. Even when I wasn’t reading romance.

Now, is this cool? Maybe. But I wish it were just something that could be, without looking to gender, or race, or any other marker of self to gauge a person’s output. I’ve always espoused the Kantian a priori method of critique, wherein you try to know as little about the item you are ingesting so as not to prejudice yourself.

(Sometimes it’s been a problem when I discover the author’s prejudices after I’ve inhaled the work–C.S. Lewis‘s Narnia series was distorted for me when I realized his deep religious beliefs formed the ideas. Knowing Jim Thompson was a drunk did help explain a lot, though).

I do wish it were less of a ‘thing’ for who is what and what they stand for. My own writing is definitely skewed because of my identity as a white Northeast-raised female living in the late 20th century, but I would hope you wouldn’t have to know that to appreciate my work. In fact, if you did have to know that, I’m doing something wrong.

The books I read, by the way, are HIGHLY recommended: Blood Oath by Christopher Farnsworth and The Black Prism by Brent Weeks (Carolyn first recommended him to me).

Anyway. Which is to say, who’s the last male author you read?

Megan

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