Baked Goods, By Mara L.

After our somewhat strained meeting at the Mercato Centrale in Firenze, I invited Jens for a homecooked meal. He was eager to leave the plains, running off to the mountains, but I had a strong argument. I was going to make some rather mountainy (is that a word? – it must be!) food, a kind of brioche filled with apricots, part of the Austrian ancestry of northern Italian cooking. But I was going to do so only under one condition: that he documented it, every step along the way. Jens has annoyed me lately by his new commitment to make, on principle, only photographs that are *useless*. How am I to write about delicious treats if I do not have images to go with it?

Copyright 2008 Jens Haas - www.jenshaas.com

Austrians call this wonderfully simple food ‘Nudeln,’ that is, ‘pasta,’ which basically just means ‘things made from dough.’ It is such a generic piece of baking that this generic name is quite appropriate. You can make it with almost any fruit, and in comes in all kinds of shapes. The key is to make some truly soft yeast dough, and to find some ripe apricots or peaches or plums. If the fruit is hard and tasteless (as it sometimes is even in Italy), cut it up and cook it for a minute in lemon juice and a bit of sugar.

Copyright 2008 Jens Haas - www.jenshaas.com

Once the dough has risen, you take a small amount, roll it into a little ball, and put your fruit in the middle. Now it goes into the baking pan, soon to be joined by more of its kind. At the bottom of the baking pan, put some butter and a tiny bit of sugar. That makes for a nice crust. Bake it until it looks nicely brown, and when you take it out of the oven, sprinkle a bit of powered sugar on top. Jens thought it was worth it, not just the work that I put into it, but also his temporary willingness to photograph the banal.

Copyright 2008 Jens Haas - www.jenshaas.com

Mercato Centrale A Firenze, By Mara L.

Copyright 2008 Jens Haas - www.jenshaas.com

This past week I met up with Jens in Florence, at the Mercato Centrale – as it turned out, not Jens’ favorite location. Or rather, he is quite generally through with Italian cities, especially those that can be likened to large tourist traps. Jens was in a remarkably grumpy mood, while I was in heaven: Florence’s market has wonderful produce, incomparably nicer than anything you get in New York (however, there’s a certain naturalness here that is disturbing to the Manhattenite, birds come whole with heads, and so on). I was pushing Jens to make some photos for me of all the nice fish, or the half-cow that was brought in and cut up while we were there, but no, he is not only through with the beautiful little towns in my homeland, but also with the bit of food photography that I kept pushing him into over this past year. The only picture I could pressure him into taking was one of the sign for the bar where we had coffee… Anyway, I am back in the spheres of cooking and shall report soon on some amazing Austrian cake I made.

Coming Soon: Baked Goods

Manhattan Art 2: The Sign, By Mara L.

I thought I had been running away from European intellectualism, to New York City, the place of bluntness, where people still talk of pictures rather than ‘signs,’ canvas rather than the ‘heterogeneous materials of the medium,’ and so on. But in my lovely nightlife, cruising the New York art world, I encounter a rather strong current of Francophile (and hence Euro-phile) art talk. I guess I shall probably have to run to China next. French philosophy – the kind of thought that involves more technical terminology than anything else I’m aware of, including quantum mechanics, and that still gives itself the air of being deeply humane – has reached these shores.

Copyright 2005 Jens Haas - www.jenshaas.com

Part of this trend, it seems, is a dismissive attitude towards modernity. For the uninitiated, it may be noted that the relevant philosophies presumably have uncovered the dangers of believing in science, knowledge, or progress of any sort. Modernity, of course, is culpable of naïve optimism of the suspect kind. All of this, and much more, is discussed in such convoluted terms that it seems inconceivable to me that anyone would want to read it.

Anyway, I was quite depressed last night, when I realized that said judgment about modernity extends to Pop Art, apparently now viewed as a simple-minded happy affirmation of clear lines and straight strokes (as in “naïve belief in order and knowledge”). Has everyone forgotten about the fun in art?