Andy Warhol vs. A Hamburger

"Uh, my name is Andy Warhol, and I just finished eating a hamburger."

View it here.

Stone fruits have monopolized my mouth and interests lately, thanks to Chip Brantley's "The Perfect Fruit: Good Breeding, Bad Seeds, and the Hunt for the Elusive Pluot." Brantley used to live a half hour away from me, and his essential goodness was so potent that the knowledge of it was passed from town to town.

Citizen 1: Have you heard of Chip?

Citizen 2: Brantley?

Citizen 1: Yes, the one surrounded by a nimbus of commendable qualities.

Citizen 2: Of course. The guy with sparkle eye.

And so on. What I appreciate most about "The Perfect Fruit" is Brantley's ardor for his topic, and the lengths to which he goes to learn about the fruits he loves. He talks to growers, he talks to breeders, he talks to distributers, he goes to trade conferences. Sure, that's what one is supposed to do when writing a book about a fruit. But the hunt mentioned in the subtitle is more than requisite. Brantley is entirely devoted to the pluot -- a type of noble appreciation that says as much about the subject as it does about how a life can be lived: with full investment, in awe, driving lots of rental cars in the rhapsodic pursuit of flavor. Consider reading it.

The Twenty Course Meal was intended to be an elaborate, indulgent, and singular physical performance. We also wanted to take full bodily care of a group of adored people. And I wanted to collaborate with the irrepressible Chef Feld prior to his departure to the Iberian Peninsula. All of these things were accomplished. We also lit some grain alcohol and hookah tobacco on fire and sent it gliding into the dining room on a homemade zip line, which was nice. Here's how it all went down:

COURSE #1 | Gin and Tonics & Spring Rolls | The evening began at six o'clock with these crisp offerings in the parlor. It began for the guests, but not for us. Ari and I had been planning all month long, and shopping and prepping for a few days. Both desserts had been made the night before, the challah a few days prior, and we'd prepped some of the courses, too. By the time guests arrived, two of our main dishes were already in the oven. An hour prior we realized everything was already in motion, and all we could do was submit ourselves to the rollick.

COURSE #2 | Chanterelles with Crème Fraîche on Challah; Figs with Prosciutto and Melon; Grilled Asparagus with Prosciutto & Dijon Crème | Moving from the palor to the dining room, we hammered a nail into the wall, hoisted the Digital Menu Board, and explained the tenor of the night. With a reading from Brillat-Savarin we explained we would activate all the senses, including the genesic sense (according to B.S., physical love). All the guests had to do was relax and pace themselves. Then came more food. Right away, our counting of courses became dubious. On purpose. We wanted the first warm tastes to be undeniably arresting. {Recipes: adapted from Suzanne Goin, with challah from Lyndsey Cohen}.

COURSE #3 | Chilled Strawberry Soup | Partly to avoid serving a hot soup in summer, partly to take advantage of the season's strawberries, but mostly because it could be done ahead and served straight from the fridge, we prepared a chilled strawberry soup. {Recipe: C.I.A.}

COURSE #4 | Scallops atop Mint Pea Salad | I confess to being a bit frightened by this course, never before having cooked scallops. In fact, of all the courses we had only really made three of the recipes before: the challah, the spring rolls, and the parmesan pudding. Newness seemed to be the point. {Recipe: adapted from Michel Roux}

COURSE #5 | AUDITORY COURSE | The first of five conceptual courses, all of which are in all caps herein and involve activities rather than food. Three of the guests were asked to contribute a musical CD of their choice and share its particular relevance to the millieu. Lesley brought Sam Cooke, Sara brought Rufus Wainwright, and Joel brought kineticism with jj and a mix. Other music throughout the day and night included Spiritualized, Brian Jonestown Massacre, Benny Moré, Ástor Piazolla, and Django Renhardt.

COURSE #6 | Dragon Tongue Beans with Marjoram; Baked Carrots with Cumin, Thyme, Chardonnay | The beans were called Romano on the menu, which was a falsehood. Selah. {Recipes: adapted from Alice Waters, Jamie Oliver}

COURSE #7 | Roasted Pork Loin Encrusted with Ancho and Chipotle Chiles; Chèvre and Mint Courgettes with Couscous | Again we count courses in mysterious ways. {Recipes: adapted from Alice Waters, and a ditty found by Julia Feld}

COURSE #8 | Just Cherries | A respite from substantiality. The cherries were delivered on a 4-foot long mahogany board in which I had chiseled a long trough.

COURSE #9 | DUBOIS COURSE | I need not explain this course to the initiated. Served on a bed of mint.

COURSE #10 | MIRTH COURSE | Another participatory course. Jung shocked the room with custom placemats featuring the guests' heads superimposed on famous historical figures from, among other things, the bible and the Boston Celtics. Lily told a joke that involved communicating like a whale. Seth rounded it out with videos of significant dunks, Marvin Gaye singing the national anthem, and Stevie Wonder doing 'Superstition' on Sesame Street. All of it, mirth of the highest order.

COURSE #11 | Roast Chicken with Apricot Mustard Glaze | Back to food! If only I could glaze every surface of my life as this chicken was glazed. {Recipe: Cook's Illustrated}

COURSE #12 | Parmesan Pudding | And more! Served with an ice cream scoop. {Recipe: Suzanne Goin}

COURSE #13 | Orange and Olive Salad |{Waters!}

COURSE #14 | Roasted Pear Salad with Endive & Walnuts | {Goin!}

COURSE #15 | GLIDING CHALICE OF SCENTED FIRE | I rather like this one, our most unpredictable course. Ari and I, early on, hoped to include some fire in the meal. He used the word "chalice," and we were both keen on sending flames careening into the room. Ari eventually and brilliantly rigged a zip line from the parlor to the dining area, running directly over the middle of the table. Sometime prior to course #15, I pulled Joel aside and asked him how he was feeling. Great, he said. Good, I replied, because we have a special task for you. We're going to send a flaming basket into the room on a zip line, and we'd like you to be ready with a pitcher of water should things get out of hand. We also wanted him, when the time was right, to help us catch the flaming chalice in a metal bowl. To his credit, Joel agreed immediately and with little outward sign of concern. The chalice was then hung from a pulley, loaded with strawberry-coconut hookah tobacco and some grain alcohol, lit by Ari, and shoved toward our guests. The pulley got derailed and faltered, but Ari quickly got it going again. The fire was a nice addition to the evening, though in retrospect I think it would have been more enjoyable for everyone if the flames were larger and seemingly more out of control.

COURSE #16 | CANDLELIGHT COURSE | It hardly would have been fair if only Ari and I got to create and administer fire, so we had another fire-based course. The day before, we had clandestinely taped candles and boxes of matches under the table. At this point in the evening we asked the guests to reach under the table to find their fire. This was preceded by a reading from Moby Dick, the chapter in which the sailors squeeze the spermaceti and each other's hands. "Come; let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves into each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness." We encouraged a similar squeezing of hands. Then the candles, about 15 of them, were lined up on the mahogany and lit. I dare say we all looked amazing bathed in that basic raw light.

COURSE #17 | Basil-Lime Granita; Brazillian Chocolate Cake | Oops, we counted wrong again. {Recipes: Gourmet, Deborah Madison}

COURSE #18 | Cheese | The cheese-monger recommended a percorino tuscano, the salt of which was a nice counterpoint to the fusillade of sugar preceding it.

COURSE #19 | Sambuca with Orange Polenta Biscuits | With a coffee bean floating in the glass. {Recipe: Jamie Oliver}

COURSE #20 | Just Coffee | That is all.

Somehow we managed to wash many of the dishes along the way, but a substantial amount remained and our guests leapt to the task. In the parlor, Ari and I vowed to do it again some day. Absolutely.

NOTE: I am only including a couple of photos and none of food, by the way, on purpose. I do not wish to supplant the rangy elaborations of my memory. Let's leave, in this venue anyway, a little of the unknown intact.

The 20 Course Meal has occurred in the most egregious, rapt, and triumphant fashion. I will explain it all later, when I have gathered myself. Until then, glean what you will from the Digital Menu Board used to track the progress of the feast IN REAL TIME.

20 Course Update: It is upon us. Mahogany has been carved and oiled. Nails have been nailed. Invitations have been typed and sent. The menu has been printed. The shopping list has been amassed. Psychics have been consulted. Foundational texts have been flagged. A 5 lb.-bag of flour has been baked into far, far too much of something. Oranges have been zested. Chef Feld has rigged something worthy of the Swiss Family Robinson. The other night we met to discuss the timing of courses and the complicated traffic of the oven, and realized perhaps for the first time that, despite the massive preparation evident in our color-coded spreadsheets and immaculate recipe portfolios, we are very much in over our heads. Think: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, only with cutting boards, apple corers, and aprons.

Things are afoot. Invisible Ear, under the sure southpaw hand of Seth Landman, has just published "Lunar Asparagus," an approximately nonfiction chapbook by me. Phrases contained within include:

• "ferns in your bed"
• "big and sweet shrimp of Libya"
• "skinnies are skinny"
• "Max Ernst, the surrealist"
• "tapered log"
• "it's total crap"
• "The farmer yells at Harrison Ford"
• "chastened heart"

And much, much more. You can own this item by going here. The ampersands in the book, I might add, are quite lovely.

20 Course Update: The only real progress made so far on the feast involves a hammer, a chisel, and a piece of mahogany. Numerous times in the past week I have sat at a picnic table on a local basketball court and whacked away at the mahogany, which shall serve a special (and admittedly, unnecessary) purpose at the feast. Even though the park is in a high-traffic, semi-residential area and I have been making a whole lot of hammer-on-chisel noise, not a single stranger has shown much interest in my half-court carpentry. This confirms my long-held and occasionally-tested belief that you can pretty much do whatever the hell you want in public as long as you do it with nonchalance. And a claw hammer.

The Elephant and Butter, as part of the Hinterland Film Festival, under the dubious sub-guise of the Film Dance Society, will run a dance clinic this Monday, July 13 at the Forbes Library in Northampton from 7 PM to 9 PM in the Community Room. The task? We will teach ourselves the dance sequence from Jean Luc Godard's Bande à Part. I cannot stress enough how unprofessional this activity will be. All are invited.

Pretty much everything is better now that barn-minton has been invented. The skies are notably bluer, the birds more bird-esque, the days heightened in their day-ness. It happened in a barn in Catskill, New York --  the family barn of a very mysterious man. A very ingenious man looked into the rafters and saw some possibility, and pretty soon the lawn game was adapted to the hayloft. The shuttlecock cut parabolas in the air until close to three in the morning. I ended up sleeping in the barn -- my very first barn repose -- and woke to slants of light. In the farm house kitchen, the mysterious man's mom made french toast casserole, which was as sweet as the new game itself. 

Not much can be revealed, gentle reader, but I am very pleased to announce that it looks like I am going to prepare a 20 Course Meal. It will be a rara avis, I assure you. My library of cookbooks has been rigorously flagged, a complicated matrix of food preparation is being devised using computer technology, and I have even planned a trip to the local lumberyard to take advantage of lumber technology. It will be a vision quest with the fasting replaced by absurd feasting. And like all vision quests, I expect there will be some hallucinating. More on all of this later.