don’t let anyone tell you that a deipnosophist is someone who is skilled at the art of dinner conversation (which it is), because what it really means (by really i of course mean also) is someone who is learned in the art of dining itself, of which conversation is but one of many facets. damn it.
i was once accused of sophistry (only once. i know!), in effing fucking Barcelona* no less, and it’s stuck with me ever since, particularly as i feel it was slightly inaccurate and unfair, but (and i know this is like, a totally different thing), were the accusation of deipnosophy i would have been elated!
upon further consideration, had deipnosophy the same connotations as sophistry, but with a dinnerary bent, i would not feel elated at all, but rather defeated and quite like someone had my number, because while i am absolutely a lover and student of dinner, if we take all facets into account, i am pretty bad at it. i can’t maintain conversation while cooking, am easily flustered, generally mismatch food and drink, and almost without exception eat to the point of crapulent self-hatred.
one would think that so essential and inborn a skill as eating might be easier to keep honed to a fine and efficacious point, but apparently i have shit the bed on that one , because i can’t even eat good.
thus ending today’s edition of Archaid Food Words,
yours, poorly but with gusto,
* a propos of nothing. just swearing for its own sake. i don’t know shit about Barcelona or its history of sophistry.