Showing posts with label Valentine's Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Valentine's Day. Show all posts

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Sweets to the Sweet

Just before Valentine's Day, there was a news article online summarizing the advantages and disadvantages of married vs. single life in several categories, including health, finances, and emotional well-being. It was--if I may say so--notably even-handed in pointing out that there are ways in which being single can be superior to being married, something that's worth remembering. You'll get no arguments from me against the idea of wedded bliss, except that achieving it seems so darn tangled up in issues of human frailty and other variables. Of course, if you're married, you don't need to be reminded of that.

Would you agree that it's better to be alone than to be with the wrong person? I think of it along the same lines as the home owner's vs. renter's argument, which I have also had presented to me as a fait accompli on the side of buying, as if renting were merely the same preliminary and temporary step on the way to home ownership as singlehood is to marriage (though some financial advisors, in fact, say that home buying is a lifestyle choice more than anything). I'm never quite sure why people are so dead set on getting others to embark on a course which has little more than a 50-50 chance (according to some estimates) of succeeding. I sometimes think that if more people managed to get out of their 20s, as I did, without tying the knot, they might have a different outlook on the whole question. I was miserable during most of my 20s while everyone around me was getting married, but for some reason, once I passed the 3-0 threshold and took a deep breath, it was kind of fun (though scary) to be a holdout.

Yesterday I was reading a biography of William Shakespeare in which the author, Stephen Greenblatt, recounted the evidence regarding the playwright's married life, particularly the issue of whether he was happy or not. The biographer admitted that assessing this is very hard to do, but he pointed out that there are few signs evincing a happily married state in Shakespeare's portrayals of married couples. Greenblatt didn't address the love sonnets in that section, but he did say there was plenty of poetic precedent for keeping marital expectations low and directing your longing toward someone else (as in the case of Dante, who was never married to Beatrice). The idea of looking to your marriage for true companionship really took hold later, Greenblatt says, as part of the new sober-mindedness swept in with the Protestant Reformation.

I do wonder sometimes whether people today put too many expectations on marriage, but as someone who's never (yet) done it, it's nothing I can speak about from personal experience. In a spirit of bipartisanship, let me just say that I believe very much in personal choice on the married/single question, though choice should be leavened with wisdom whenever possible.

What I can speak about with authority is the best Valentine's Day cookie recipe I've ever come across, guaranteed to bring you, married or single, a few stolen moments of bliss, for as long as it takes to eat one. I offer the thought as a gift to my readers, a little late, though if you're one of those who think of every day as Valentine's Day, that doesn't signify. Now, pay attention, because it's not often that I give out recipes and practical hints, and this one is a keeper. I got the recipe from Delish online (they credit Martha Stewart), so if it's precision you're after, go there and look up Chocolate Sweet Hearts.

Even making these cookies is fun, because it involves melting chocolate, brown sugar, and butter over a saucepan of simmering water until you have, basically, a bowl of molten chocolate. How many things under the sun are as delectable as that? You stir an egg into this and then combine it with a flour-cocoa-baking soda mixture. Where I part company with the recipe is in using my special Valentine hearts pan, which has six large heart-shaped cavities into which you press the prepared dough. After you bake them for 12 minutes or so, they come out of the pan in lovely heart shapes, no two alike, some with scalloped edges, some with little x's and o's, and some with hearts within hearts.

Here's the only caveat: you have to watch the timing. Last year, I left them in a little too long, and they were too crisp around the edges. This year, I took them out a little too soon, and they were a bit soft, though still delicious when they cooled. When you make them into big cookies like I do, they have the texture and taste of brownies. I eat one with a glass of milk after dinner, and it's perfectly wonderful. In fact, I still have some chocolate to use up, so I may have to make another batch once this one is gone.

Just one woman's idea of a great way to celebrate Valentine's Day, sans recriminations, sans jealousy, and sans hard feelings to ruin the holiday. Of course, one advantage to being single in this case is that there's more for you and you don't have to share. You may, quite rightly, point out to me that sharing often makes things more fun--and I agree completely. So if you're married, I simply advise you to double the recipe. That way, you and your partner can enjoy six full days of chocolate bliss, just as I do. I've still got one cookie left, and it's going to taste just as good as the first one did.

Sweets to the sweet (and that is Shakespeare).

Friday, February 15, 2013

After the Valentines

I like Valentine's Day, but in my opinion, it's more fun when you're a kid. Remember those days when you made Valentines out of paper, glue, and cut-outs for everybody in your class? I do, and in all honesty, it beats any Valentine's Day I've had since then by a wide margin. There was something so innocent about giving and receiving those cheerful red and white handmade cards -- everybody was your Valentine! This was before the boys and girls started to dislike each other as they did from fifth grade until puberty.

In that forgotten time, the battle of the sexes extended mainly to the boys chasing the girls around at recess with giant insects in their hands (in South Florida, where I lived then, big bugs were easy to come by). Nobody seemed to mind it too much, and relations remained civil afterwards. Everybody called each other by his or her first name; that unpleasant habit of last-name address didn't start until later. So what went wrong?

There is something very poignant about the days of hormonal awakening, puppy love, and first crushes, but dang it if things don't start getting complicated then. I don't know how young men see it; I can only speak from my perspective. A host of previously nonexistent problems swim into view in those years, including self-consciousness, insecurity, unrequited love, and acne. How much better it seemed for all to play together freely without being divided by gender lines or competition. And how much better, too, to define yourself in your own terms, to be sufficient unto yourself, rather than mooning over a boy who barely knew you were alive. Or, once you did land a boyfriend, to be worried about keeping him.

I've noticed how much I enjoy stories that feature young heroines in that magical, mythical time in which they remain free and answerable to themselves, battling dragons, solving mysteries, going on fantastical journeys, or just being who they are. I've written a story like that myself. I wish there was a way for girls to hold onto that freedom; it still seems to me that it's easier for boys to retain their independence without defining themselves primarily as someone else's partner, parent, or helpmate.

I'm all in favor of marriage under the right circumstances, but I would never want to give up my ability to enjoy my own company and my own thoughts. I'm good at cooperating but not at being told what to do. And I've seen firsthand how many people still seem to regard an unattached woman as an anomaly, a problem to be solved. That's changing, and it can't change soon enough. An unmarried man with any graces at all is considered a catch; an unmarried woman, even an accomplished one, is often considered wanting.

If you want to see a movie that captures the freedom I'm talking about, see Benh Zeitlin's Beasts of the Southern Wild. The young heroine, six-year-old Hushpuppy, resides with her father in a mythical landscape seemingly outside of space and time, although they live in southern Louisiana. Hushpuppy goes to school, but she, and all of the people around her, live a wild, dreamlike existence anchored in a natural world unconcerned with convention. They live and die by their own choices, and although their lives might not suit everyone, they're rich in imagination, self-determination, and joy.

While watching the film, one is hard-pressed to imagine Hushpuppy growing up to become ordinary. You want her to remain extraordinary, because that's what she is. I think we all start out that way, and for a while, before the pressures to conform set in, we're allowed to be like that. How wonderful it would be, in spite of hormones, careers, the need to grow up and pay taxes, home ownership, and parenthood, not to put a time limit on that independence of spirit . . . for anyone.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

My Funny Valentine

Facing Valentine's Day with a cold and a headache, but all is not lost. I looked in my cabinet a while ago and found four varieties of drinking chocolate: Green & Black's Organic, Dagoba Xocolatl with chilies and cinnamon, Cadbury Original, and (my favorite) Ghirardelli Premium Double Chocolate. I also have my latest discovery in eating chocolate: Lindt Dark with a Touch of Sea Salt, subtle but deadly. The chocolate situation is under control.

And for a nice romantic finish, there's Olympic pairs skating on TV tonight. I just saw the Chinese couple, Shen and Zhao, and I liked their story and their lyrical style. I hope they get their gold medal.

I once did a Jungian analysis of a fairy tale for a class. In my story, "The Raven" (sometimes called "The Glass Mountain"), a princess is turned into a bird by an enchantment. A man is walking in the forest one day and hears her calling. She tells him she can be freed with his help, if he refrains from eating, drinking, or sleeping until she comes to him. He fails three times, despite swearing that he will do it.

Apparently seeing more in him than meets the eye, she leaves him some magical objects (an inexhaustible loaf of bread, meat, and jug of wine) and a letter, saying that even though he isn't quite there yet, she has faith in him. If he still wants to try, he is to seek her in a certain faraway castle. She also leaves her gold ring as a token.

The man sets off to find her, eventually encountering giants deep in the forest. These giants are dangerous, but the funny thing is, they have a lot in common with the man -- their appetites, for one thing. This is just one point in the story where external events mirror the man's own situation. The giants also have hidden resources: access to maps that reveal the location of the castle. The man uses his inexhaustible food and drink to wine and dine the giants and convince them not to eat him. Not only do they help him locate the castle, but one of them carries him many leagues and drops him off in the neighborhood.

The castle is on top of a big glass mountain, which even an Olympic skier would find impossible to climb. The man knows the princess is up there, but he is forced to bide his time, watching and waiting. He's been there a whole year when three robbers come by, arguing over three magical objects they've obtained: a stick that opens any door, a horse that can go anywhere, and a cloak that makes its wearer invisible. Seizing the moment and the objects, the man grabs the stick, mounts the horse, throws on the cloak, and rides swiftly to the top of the mountain.

He enters the locked castle with the stick, makes his way invisibly (presumably on the lookout for threshold guardians), and throws the girl's ring into her cup. Going outside to await events, he is soon joined by the princess, who has recognized him by her ring. She tells him that she is now free and that the next day will be their wedding day.

This story is about the harnessing of appetites and emotions, which, according to Jung's theory, fuels transformation on the journey of individuation. No one has to undergo this journey: It's a choice. Anyone can remain unconscious, and many people do. I like this story because of the man's persistence despite the hugeness of the task, his coolness in the face of giants, and his ability to use what comes his way. He can ride a horse, too, like a cowboy.

If this went into a personal ad, it might sound like this: Woman seeking man. Must be mature, willing to go the distance, street smart, unafraid of giants, good at negotiating slippery slopes. Must be willing to learn from experience. Must know his way around a forest. Must love travel. Must understand the importance of chocolate. (I made that last part up.)