Jean-Paul Sartre's cooking diary
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Jean-Paul Sartre's cooking diary
October 3 - Spoke with Camus today about my cookbook. Though he has
never actually eaten, he gave me much encouragement. I rushed
home immediately to begin work. How excited I am! I have begun my
formula for a Denver omelet.
October 4 - Still working on the omelet. There have been stumbling
blocks. I keep creating omelets one after another, like soldiers
marching into the sea, but each one seems empty, hollow, like stone.
I want to create an omelet that expresses the meaninglessness of
existence, and instead they taste like cheese. I look at them on the
plate, but they do not look back. Tried eating them with the lights
off. It did not help. Malraux suggested paprika.
October 6 - I have realized that the traditional omelet form (eggs
and cheese) is bourgeois. Today I tried making one out of cigarette,
some coffee, and four tiny stones. I fed it to Malraux, who puked. I
am encouraged, but my journey is still long.
October 10 - I find myself trying ever more radical interpretations
of traditional dishes, in an effort to somehow express the void I feel
so acutely. Today I tried this recipe:
Tuna Casserole
Ingredients: 1 large casserole dish
Instructions: Place the casserole dish in a cold oven. Place
a chair facing the oven and sit in it forever. Think about how hungry
you are. When night falls, do not turn on the light.
While a void is expressed in this recipe, I am struck by its
inapplicability to the bourgeois lifestyle. How can the eater
recognize that the food denied him is a tuna casserole and not some
other dish? I am becoming more and more frustrated.
October 25 - I have been forced to abandon the project of producing
an entire cookbook. Rather, I now seek a single recipe which will,
by itself, embody the plight of man in a world ruled by an unfeeling
God, as well as providing the eater with at least one ingredient from
each of the four basic food groups. To this end, I purchased six
hundred pounds of foodstuffs from the corner grocery and locked myself
in the kitchen, refusing to admit anyone. After several weeks of work,
I produced a recipe calling for two eggs, half a cup of flour, four
tons of beef, and a leek. While this is a start, I am afraid I still
have much work ahead.
November 15 - Today I made a Black Forest gateau out of five pounds
of cherries and a live beaver, challenging the very definition of the
word gateau. I was very pleased. Malraux said he admired it greatly,
but would not stay for dessert. Still, I feel that this may be my
most profound achievement yet, and have resolved to enter it in the
Betty Crocker Bake-Off.
November 30 - Today was the day of the Bake-Off. Alas, things did not
go as I had hoped. During the judging, the beaver became agitated
and bit Betty Crocker's wrist. The beaver's powerful jaws are capable
of felling blue spruce in less than ten minutes and proved, needless
to say, more than a match for the tender limbs of America's favorite
homemaker. I only got third place. Moreover, I am now the subject of
a rather nasty lawsuit.
December 1 - I have been gaining twenty-five pounds a week for two
months, and I am now experiencing light tides. It is stupid to be so
fat. My pain and ultimate solitude are still as authentic as they were
when I was thin, but seem to impress girls far less. From now on, I
will live on cigarettes and black coffee.
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Entered on: 10/25/1999
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reportedly written by Alastair Sutherland
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