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The plot, unlike the soup, does not thicken. But the literary lessons are there.
The wonderfully lyrical cooking instructions demonstrate an elegant prose style. Short sharp sentences that come straight to the point, deriving their effect perhaps from a combination of the stylistic mannerisms of Ernest Hemingway gently beaten with a soupcon of A. E. van Vogt.
One detects a certain existential angst reminiscent of Jean Paul Satre (La Nause springs immediately to mind) stirred together with the subtlety that made the reputation of E. E. “Doc” Smith.
Once we have recovered from the delighted frisson engendered by these instructions we come to an appendix to this major work of culinary communication.
A recipe.
The particular edition in my kitchen discusses “Italian Chicken Saute” in a manner that owes nothing at all to Aunt Daisy, but much, perhaps, to Aunt Lucretia. I feel that this addition to the original, simple, cooking instructions is a satirical embellishment. Certainly the style of the two is very different. Compare the straightforward “Mix thoroughly” of the first section with the more philosophically refined “Combine” of the second. This suggests, to me at least, that here we have a much later interpolation to the primary text serving as a counterpoint to the original in order to emphasise the terse but evocative (and complete) nature of that original. Consequently we may disregard it.
Investigate your kitchen cupboard. Unsuspected literary delights lurk. And you may be able to eat the words.
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