Re-tumbling my latest post from EAT IT online:
I just finished reading John Irving’s In One Person for my book club here in Toronto. It was my first time reading Irving (yeah, I couldn’t believe that either…) and, despite my having seen the film The World According to Garp in which I completely adored John Lithgow in drag, for some reason I was a little surprised by all the questions of “sexual differences” the story raised. I expected it to be more quaint. Which it was… just, quaint with an undercurrent of sexy quaintness. Anyhow.
While I wasn’t completely drawn in by the novel’s characters (we agreed at book club that it felt more like an “ideas” book than a compelling character portrait), I did enjoy the way it forced the reader to really consider so many different iterations of human sexuality, far beyond the gay/straight dichotomy, in a real way. Because there are so many tastes different from the conventionally acceptable ones. It was nice to see them reflected, and examined, with respect and delightful craftsmanship.
Which brings me to my next point: SAVOURY CAKES.
I have long known that I was a savoury girl. Sure, I enjoy a nice donut or ice cream sundae now and then, but truly, my lust is for meats, salty things, pickled items, you get the drift. I have always felt in the minority. Margarinized, as it were. It is as though people feel sorry for me. “Oh, you don’t like pie… that’s too bad!” they exclaim. Think about it: On big occasions— birthdays, etc— nobody comes up to you with a birthday candle flickering from a platter of Tex-Mex nachos. It’s just not done.
It seemed, until yesterday, that for some reason being a “savoury” meant that I wasn’t allowed to celebrate my preferences in the same way as others. It was a strange feeling. I love being a savoury. Why can’t others be happy for me? Why can’t I revel in my desires?
So imagine my surprise and delight when a friend forwarded this blog post celebrating the Smorgastarta— a savoury cake! I was like a teenager gaping at a first encounter with a salacious magazine… I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing. And I was just getting so damn HUNGRY!
Those Scandinavians really know how to do things right. By the way, my birthday is in December. Nicole Baute, please start stockpiling the salamis for my Smorgastarta now.