Au Cabaret-Vert, cinq heures du soir

This is the way I like it. Near the end of Season One of the French TV series Chefs, there is a culinary show-down, Iron Chefs style, which turns around a 1870 sonnet by the prodigy Arthur Rimbaud, written when he was turning 17.  I had always loved this poem, simplicity itself, Rimbaud’s point.

After I woke up this morning my rhymed translation fell into place before lunch, the last rhyme knitting together during my post-prandial nap. [And thanks to J.A. for a deft suggestion.]

      *

For a whole week I’d been wearing out my soles
tramping down rocky paths. When I got home
I headed to the Cabaret-Vert, ordering rolls
with butter and a slab of lukewarm ham. 

At peace, I stretched my legs out, admired
the simple patterns on tapestry hung
on the wall. Then the girl served up the desired
buns, her tits big, bright eyes so young 

— not likely would she shy away from a peck!
The pink ham with its rim of white fat bedecked
with pungent garlic sat on a fancy dish.

With it she brought a stein topped with froth,
spume glistening in the sun. In truth,
there was little more I could ever wish. 

      *

Depuis huit jours, j’avais déchiré mes bottines
Aux cailloux des chemins. J’entrais à Charleroi.
– Au Cabaret-Vert : je demandai des tartines
Du beurre et du jambon qui fût à moitié froid.

Bienheureux, j’allongeai les jambes sous la table
Verte : je contemplai les sujets très naïfs
De la tapisserie. – Et ce fut adorable,
Quand la fille aux tétons énormes, aux yeux vifs,

– Celle-là, ce n’est pas un baiser qui l’épeure ! –
Rieuse, m’apporta des tartines de beurre,
Du jambon tiède, dans un plat colorié,

Du jambon rose et blanc parfumé d’une gousse
D’ail, – et m’emplit la chope immense, avec sa mousse
Que dorait un rayon de soleil arriéré.

“Le Cabaret-Vert”, du peintre ardennais Jean-Paul Saurin

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yours truly at Rimbaud’s tomb, Charleville, 1988

 

 

Salted Lemon and Onion Mint Salad

Someone once said that composing salads is like editing texts. The fewer the elements, the better. Just choose and attend to them well.

*

2  or 3 lemons
one small white onion
bunch of fresh mint
salt and pepper
powdered sumac
olive oil
one additional ingredient

*

FIrst, sliver the onion and soak in cold water for an hour.

With a sharp vegetable peeler, take off all the skin and as much of the pith of the lemons as possible without exposing the pulp.

Cut ends off to the flesh. After halving each from top to bottom, place them pulp side down and cut vertically three or four times. Turn and slice across again as finely as you can. You will have a mass of irregular pieces of lemon pulp attached to rinds of pith.

Extract the seeds. Transfer pulp and pith into a bowl.

Drain and dry the onions. Join to the lemon pulp. Salt and pepper generously.

Clean and pick through the mint before tearing it into smallish pieces. Then toss the mint into the lemons and onion and douse with olive oil. Sprinkle with sumac. Leave to macerate for as long as you can.

You might also introduce an additional ingredient of your choice, bearing in mind the above caution against prolixity. Each of the following takes the concoction off on a different tangent: pinenuts, dried fruit, sesame or other seeds, capers, sliced almonds, nuts, etc.

For a greener salad, serve on a bed of arugula or other pungent leaves.