Today marks the tenth installment of Cultural Friday here at SBD. Every Friday up until now I had effortlessly found a topic to work with. This week I was beginning to struggle. IÂ’ve covered food, wine, etiquette, ballet, art and I think music and managed to keep the topics interesting. IÂ’ve managed to avoid the ambien-like topics of poetry and the like, but today I face the fact that much of the low-hanging fruit has been harvested.

I even found myself checking” High Culture” on wikipedia for ideas and here’s what I found (I have marked the topics already covered):

“High culture is traditionally the milieu of arts and sciences fostered under the European Renaissance. Its ideal is the Renaissance man, whose knowledge leads him to a broad and deep understanding of life.

The following fields of experience and study were considered parts of high culture:

* Appreciation for good design, whether decorative or minimalist
* Etiquette
* Fine arts and patronage of museums
* Government, especially public speaking and informed debate
* Haute cuisine and fine wine
* International travel, especially the Grand Tour of Europe
* Life sciences such as botany
* Literature, and the ability to write elegantly as learned from Classical literature and
poetry
* Military service (as an officer) was once a central part of high culture. As war has
become more impersonal and technology-driven since World War I, this aspect has
waned.
* The more financially expensive sports, such as equestrianism, fencing, sailing, and
sculling
* Musical discipline, especially in classical music such as grand opera
* Philosophy, especially of the European tradition
* Refined grooming and haute couture
* Religion, specifically the more early modern forms of Christianity
* Theatre, especially ballet”

That was a lot more interesting than I thought it would be. Apparently I have a lot more material to cover than I thought. I had thoughts of putting this to bed but then I read further and found the criticism of high culture. That incensed me enough to forget the idea.

“Critics of high culture see its focus on the European tradition as narrow and possibly even racist. In addition, the education and talent required for much of high culture is seen as elitist, with time wasted that could be spent on more practical improvements to material society. Many critics of high culture hold up popular culture as a more easily understood and enjoyable lifestyle.”

Now that’s the kind of bullshit that makes my head spin. Suddenly I’m a racist for supporting the arts. Apparently I’m also an elitist because I’d rather read a book than say…watch an episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Well, you know what? Then I guess I am a fucking elitist—and a proud one. I’m also not a big fan of “dumbing things down” so that the lazy bastards we all seem to be producing these days can tag along for the ride without contributing a single worthwhile thought to society. I’m tired of people who want to make everything easier. These are the same people who give trophies to every single kid at the end of baseball season instead of just giving them to the champions. Everybody expects everything to be easy in life and I’ve had enough of it.

In the next few Cultural Fridays will cover literature, grooming and international travel. I will also do a piece on self-defense, which replaced dueling/rapiers some time ago.

I will be ignoring religion and government because frankly, I find them both offensive.

If you would like to contribute a Cultural Friday article I would welcome them. Topics available: military (I would think honor and or basic field strategies), philosophy, equestrianism, sailing, sculling, life sciences, debate or more specific topics under the umbrella of those listed.

Submissions not guaranteed publication and editorial rights remain with me. What that really means is I wonÂ’t post complete shit, but almost anything else, and that IÂ’d like to be able to spell check it and if need be work with the author on basic editorial changes, i.e., punch it up, if need be.

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This week weÂ’re discussing cuisine. I have a great love of haute cuisine when done properly and I loathe it when itÂ’s a sham. Gastronomically speaking the French rule the world, whether you care to admit it or not. Over the years the French have truly made an art of fine cooking, sauces and pastry.

Some people are enamored with nouvelle cuisine. A lot of people talk about California cuisine and new names for cooking styles spring up every week. ThereÂ’s an entire TV channel devoted to food, though most of the time they cater to the mundane. In case you donÂ’t know, Rachael Ray is not a chef. Sometimes IÂ’ll tune in so I can picture her naked in a tub of cling peaches in heavy syrup, but she may as well be an army cook as far as cuisine goes.

A lot of people don’t know good food from bad. I know plenty of people who go to expensive restaurants and pay $35 for an entrée and think it’s wonderful, when it’s really slop. I know an over-rested steak when I get one. I generally don’t send food back because I know what happens when you do that. Nor do I blame the servers for dry meat or shitty food in general. I take it in stride. That’s why I go to the same places a lot. When a great chef is running a kitchen you get consistency.

I lot of people see lamb on a menu and order it not even thinking to ask if itÂ’s domestic. Most of time itÂ’s not. How do you think it was preserved on itÂ’s trip from Australia? A lot of people still order Swordfish in restaurants, even though itÂ’s been known to harbor foot long worms. Have you ever seen a chef order Swordfish? Somewhere along the line Chilean sea bass became a big deal. I donÂ’t particularly care for it, but the bigger question is why would someone in a coastal city order a most likely frozen fish when theyÂ’re sitting on the fucking water in Palm Beach? Local produce and especially fish are better bets in almost all cases.

I once traveled in the Midwest for business and I guy I was with kept ordering clams and fish in every restaurant we went in. And while fresh seafood is available away from the coast you really have to think about the individual restaurant and how many times a week they order fish. Don’t even get me going about ‘the specials’.

But back to haute cuisine. It can be decadent. I’ll probably die of a heart attack from eating Foie gras, but it will have been worth it. If you’re not familiar with Foie gras, it is a pâte made from the grossly enlarged liver of a force fed goose. Those livers can weigh three or four pounds. It’s very expensive, the texture is smooth as silk, and it’s quite rich. Also, animal rights people go ape shit whenever they hear the word. For me it’s like heroin; a dangerous addiction that will probably kill me, or least give me the gout.

ItÂ’s also used in a lot of very complicated dishes, like Wellington. Haute cuisine is a complicated affair in general. A lot of dishes take a great deal of time to prepare. Demi-glace is a perfect example of a classic French sauce thatÂ’s so time consuming to prepare that few restaurants do it from scratch anymore. It entails roasting veal bones in an oven for hours, preparing an Espagnole sauce, making a roux, adding wine and reducing the shit out of it until youÂ’ve got liquid gold. IÂ’m a sucker for a good demi-glace.

Traditional French meals, as well as some Italian, serve the salad at the end of the meal where it belongs. Then comes the cheese course, another favorite of mine. A good cheese menu is rare these days and in America youÂ’re stuck with pasteurized cheeses only, which is a terrible shame.

ThereÂ’s no reason to be intimidated by fine food. ThereÂ’s nothing I enjoy more than fine food, good service and a selection of great wines and cognacs. The ride home will entail a good deal of flatulence, but itÂ’s a small price to pay.

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Why I hate the ballet.

Actually, I donÂ’t hate it, I just donÂ’t enjoy it. ItÂ’s one of those things I just canÂ’t get into. Like German opera and conceptual art.

I can appreciate the ballet. I realize the skill sets and strength required is extreme. I donÂ’t associate it with effeminate men in panty hose. I donÂ’t have any hang-ups about the pomposity of the whole affair (thereÂ’s no denying the pomposity). I just find it repetitive and boring. And the music tends to affect me like Ambien.

The first time I saw the ballet entailed a huge fight with my wife. I just wasnÂ’t interested in putting on my finery and sitting through an extended night of slow string music. I tend to zone out and have surreal, morphine-like daydreams. She won the fight and I was forced to pay an extravagant sum of money for tickets. And on the night of the performance we walked into the place, my wife excited about seeing the Bolshoi or whatever and I desperately hoping they had a bar in the lobby.

The first thing I noticed was the median age of the audience, which I estimate was 94 years old. I elbowed my way to the bar and ordered two drinks, and as an afterthought I asked my wife if she wanted anything. The old people milled about slowly greeting each other. Many of them were carrying opera glasses. I started having flashbacks of the Three Stooges ruining a stuffy affair like this and it broke me from my daze.

When the curtain went up I was absolutely amazed. It wasnÂ’t at all what I expected. In fact it was one of the most amazing things I had ever seen. It was brilliant. The grace and strength of the dancers was breathtaking and I settled in to enjoy the performance. The next act was still pretty amazing but I was getting antsy. After fifteen minutes IÂ’d seen it all. I wasnÂ’t astute enough to notice all the details or anything and the music started to lull me to dreamland. I wanted another drink. I wanted to go home. And most of all I wanted to physically punish the golf clappers.

The scariest part of the whole thing was the makeup the old ladies in the audience wore. A lot of thick, white pancake makeup is not a good look for a 90 year old woman. All thatÂ’s missing is the casket and flowers. Trust me, itÂ’s seriously unsettling.

At intermission I loaded up on scotch. I had seen the ballet. It was amazing all right, but I didnÂ’t have the endurance or the medication needed to sit through another. Since that time I have managed to avoid the expense and punishment of the ballet.

Heed my words.

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This week weÂ’re on to part two of etiquette. Part one can found here.

We left off talking about handshakes. We’ve covered “the boneless shake” and “the double pumper” so now we’re on to the last two.

The bone crusher. I donÂ’t know what motivates people to pull a bone cruncher. If itÂ’s to intimidate, it rarely works. When someone gives me the bone cruncher I always know IÂ’m dealing with an asshole. In rare cases it can actually be painful and in those cases it is socially acceptable to break his wrist, throw him or double grab and head butt, however, these are rare circumstances and weÂ’re getting off course.

The last abominable handshake is when they just hold on too long. Any handshake that lasts longer than two seconds is over the line and IÂ’m taking my hand back one way or another. Caveat venditor.

LetÂ’s move on to general behavior. Having little education is not a breech of manners. According to Post:

People who say “I come,” and “I seen it,” and “I done it” prove by their lack of grammar that they had little education in their youth. Unfortunate, very; but they may at the same time be brilliant, exceptional characters, loved by everyone who knows them, because they are what they seem and nothing else.
more...

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Back by popular demand. This week we’re taking a look at etiquette. If there’s one thing that pisses me off it’s poor manners. It’s one thing to live like a caveman in your own home—but it’s entirely another thing to do it in public.

I know manners, as they were drummed into me as a child and as a young man by my parents, who hoped IÂ’d somehow turn out better than I did. I fell well short of everyoneÂ’s mark but I do remember my manners. This doesnÂ’t mean IÂ’m an etiquette Nazi. I just donÂ’t want to hear public farting. ThereÂ’s a big difference.

Very few people still adhere to age old manners of the royal court and to the completely outdated standards set by Emily Post. That broad was born in 1873 so you can bet your ass things have changed. You know, with electricity and all. So letÂ’s get to it.

Greetings
Up until the 19th century proper etiquette stated that you should never speak to someone that you were not actually, personally introduced to. That type of familiarity was unheard of in England at the time.

If you were actually introduced to someone, the only proper greeting was, “How do you do?”

The response was either another; “How do you do?” or the person could simply bow instead.

I donÂ’t expect people to exercise these standards in modern day America, although there still is a place for them on occasion. HereÂ’s what I do expect:

When greeting someone look them in the eye, stand up straight and shake hands. DonÂ’t wave your drink at them. DonÂ’t nod at them like youÂ’re the Prince of Wales acknowledging the pee boy.

And for God’s sake shake hands properly. Nothing disgusts me more than a limp shake. Everyone has experienced “the boneless hand” before. It’s something of an enigma to me, how anyone could go through life with that handshake having met no repercussions of any kind. I always figured one day they would give the boneless shake and some guy would feel the near lifeless hand, spin the guy around and de-pants and defile him standing up right there, with a few grunts and a brief apology, along the lines of, “Sorry about the mess.”

Almost as bad is the double shaker. ThatÂ’s the guy who clasps your hand with both of his hands and pumps away. I refuse to tolerate the double shake because I always get the feeling heÂ’s going to pull me in and head-butt me. If I get the double shake I always step right and shift my weight so if I have to throw him I can.

In the old days when a man passed a woman with whom he was not acquainted he would tip his hat, where if he were acquainted with her he would bow. We donÂ’t do this anymore. We now have two options if you donÂ’t know the woman you are passing on the street. The first is to smile politely and the second is to ignore her, making no eye contact whatsoever. In both cases, it is polite to turn after a few steps and oogle her ass. Well, not exactly, but itÂ’s taken for granted. It is not polite to whistle or to make audible noises or grunts. Public grunting is never good manners.

Etiquette is such a broad topic that I might have to address it in parts, as IÂ’d hate to skip over some important topics, like distinguishing a tea from a reception. For instance, according to Post, the menu defines the event. A tea, for instance:

Only tea, bouillon, chocolate, bread and cakes are served. There can be all sorts of sandwiches, hot biscuits, crumpets, muffins, sliced cake and little cakes in every variety that a cook or caterer can devise—whatever can come under the head of “bread and cake” is admissible; but nothing else, or it becomes a “reception,” and not a “tea.”

I bet you idiots have been fucking this up for years, huh? Well, thereÂ’s more where that came from.

To be continued.

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