Wordplay Indulges in Broad Generalizations. You’re Welcome.

With last week’s post, I thought I had gotten Aphrodite and Eros and desserts and all out of my system, but that does not seem to be the case. I know this because I keep finding myself looking up pictures of the most elegant desserts I can find on the Internet. Of course, you cool kids know that when we speak of Aphrodite, we are speaking of more than romantic love. Aphrodite encompasses luxuries and indulgences of all types: fine wines, beauty, fashion, flowers, and, of course, desserts. If you’re not sure how this works, or what the goddess of love has to do with any of this, think of it this way: Aphrodite encompasses romance, and all of the above are considered enhancements or accompaniments to romance. And certainly, it is quite all right—healthy, actually—to fall in love with yourself and to treat yourself with appropriate indulgences as needed.

I know that my readers understand this because reductionism is a kind of sin in depth psychology, and if you follow this blog, that means you have some appreciation for the nuances of the soul. In mythology, too, it’s unusual for simple mathematics to rear its head: rarely does “this” equal “that” in any kind of neatly delineated way. Aphrodite and Eros reign over an entire class of experiences, not just sensual love, and that includes a group of things we might categorize as “the finer things in life.” Most people realize that life is made up of not just one or two but a variety of different types of experiences. “To everything, there is a season,” as Ecclesiastes tells us.

Nevertheless, just as people often have one or two qualities predominating in their makeup, so do places. L.A., for instance, is one of the most Aphrodite places I’ve ever seen, and Lexington, KY, (where I live now) is one of the least. There’s nothing unusual about a place or a person having a dominant cast to it, but it’s also true that whatever is undervalued or outside the comfort zone tends to go into the shadow. Thus many people have the perception that L.A. is an anti-intellectual place and that Kentucky is a very hearth, home, and family type of place. I’ve spent enough time in Kentucky to know that there’s a lot of truth in this perception and also to feel that people here have a suspicion of “Aphrodite.” It’s not that they don’t feel it, it’s that they’re not quite at home with it. It seems like frippery, perhaps, or something that might lead you astray, away from the things that really matter: hearth, home, family, and God. Of course, if it weren’t for Aphrodite, there wouldn’t be children or families, but somehow Aphrodite seems to get divorced from the rest of the process, as if she had nothing to do with it at all, and Demeter rules the roost.

My current preoccupation with Aphrodite springs, I’m certain, from my current experiences. If you ever find yourself living in your car and getting by from paycheck to paycheck, you may discover, as I have, that a healthy person eventually rebels against all that cheapism and tries to seek balance as best it can. You throw a chocolate bar into the grocery cart once in a while or check into a hotel to experience cool sheets, pillows, and air conditioning. A person who lives in his or her intellect much of the time (Athena/Apollo) will, at the best of times, seek out sensory enjoyment just to stay in balance, and if you’re living in very reduced circumstances, it doesn’t become less important but rather more. Certainly, it’s possible to have too much Aphrodite in one’s life, which amounts to overindulgence; it’s also quite possible to have too little, which amounts to poverty.

So it was that, being off work today and still thinking about dessert, no matter how hard I tried to find other “more important” things to read about, I decided to set myself a task: to discover an Internet photo of the most luxurious fall dessert not involving pumpkin that was out there to be found. This was how I made what was, to me, an interesting observation. The majority of fall desserts that don’t involve pumpkin contain apples, and no matter how long I looked, I couldn’t find an apple dessert that seemed luxurious in the same way a profiterole or chocolate mousse is. (An exception might be a galette, simply because the French have a deft way of putting Aphrodite into their food that does not seem to come as easily to most Americans.) Vast quantities of cinnamon, sugar, butter, and cream notwithstanding, all the apple desserts I saw, as delicious and appealing as they looked, seemed wholesome rather than gourmet, and I think this has to do with the apple itself. Introduce an apple into a dessert, and you’re suddenly speaking of harvest, Grandma’s kitchen, and the farm rather than of luxury.

So, here’s my contribution to world peace: 1. Aphrodite, so often either overvalued, maligned, or misunderstood, is probably most to be feared when overvalued, maligned, or misunderstood. 2. American culture has a Puritan cast to it that gives Aphrodite sort of a bad name here, but this possibly diminishes the further you get from New England. 3. If you require an indulgent dessert with apples in it, you might have to go as far as France. 4. Kentuckians are great at getting in the harvest but suck at experiencing (or creating) sensory delight. 5. People in L.A. fear being ugly or wearing their pants too loose as much as the rest of us would fear the plague. 6. It often costs more to make things beautiful, but the payoff in psychological well-being is probably vastly underrated.

Just Dessert

In between searching job postings, doing the dishes, etc., I managed to get to the grocery store this past Sunday. I was only planning to get a few things, and I don't often give in to impulse shopping, but I passed a table with King Cakes and pastries at half price and stopped to look. The other goodies they had turned out to be paczki, a pre-Lenten pastry traditional to Poland. I'd actually read about them; there was an article a year or two ago that mentioned the best places in Chicago to get them, but I didn't think I'd ever had them and couldn't quite figure out what they were.

Since they were on sale, I bought a box of four to satisfy my curiosity about the whole paczki situation. I was reminded of a friend from Texas with some Czech background who once told me about kolaches. Though normally pretty articulate, he was a bit vague in explaining what they were, though I gathered they were quite a treat. It wasn't until several years later, when I happened to be driving down the interstate in Texas and saw a big billboard advertising what's apparently "Kolaches Central" in that part of Texas that I was able to solve the mystery. A kolache turned out to be very similar to what most Americans would call a Danish. I bought one with fruit filling and one with cream cheese, and they were very good, and that was that.

As for the paczki I bought, they were covered with powdered sugar, and I chose custard over several other varieties. They looked just like what most of us call filled doughnuts, the kind you get in an assortment from the bakery along with crullers and regular doughnuts. They're flat and sort of oval, and according to the box, go by the name Berliners in Germany. I had one that night, and now I can tell you: a paczki is a yeasty pastry, just like a yeasty doughnut. The custard was good and the pastry was remarkably fresh for something that had probably been in the store for a few days.

It felt pretty decadent to be eating store-bought pastries when I normally stick to things I make myself. It was my only concession to the Carnival season, a bit of stray powdered sugar on my sweater testament to the fact that I'd been letting the good times roll dessert-wise. If I'd bought them a day earlier, I would have ended up eating the last one on Mardi Gras, but as it was, I ate the last one yesterday, the first day of Lent. That kind of defeats the avowed purpose; you're supposed to be using up all of your ingredients for one big indulgent bake-off before the fasting begins on Ash Wednesday. So I missed the deadline, but I have now crossed another European pastry off my bucket list, and maybe next year there will be another one.

You can never go too far wrong with European pastries, in my experience. Just use common sense when indulging.