Would You Like Some Kant With That?

Trust coincidence. Or at least, recognize it. I roused myself early--I thought--this morning, to pen this philosophic-culinary post before concentrating the rest of my day on Doug's Famous Derby Party. Little did I know that Manic Landlord was up much earlier doing some, um, work in the kitchen. When I straggled downstairs and made my usual beeline for the coffee maker, I was greeted by a large open space where I could have sworn an oven had been standing less than nine hours ago. "What the --" before I could even finish my generic morning greeting, Manic Landlord looked at me and smiled. It was too early in the morning to decide what had me more incredulous: the fact that he had somehow managed to remove from sight (and from a very tight space) an entire hulking stove (getting to one of my points here, I know nothing about the differences between a stove and an oven, so I use them interchangeably) without waking me, or that he hadn't wakened me to help him remove an entire hulking oven from sight (and from a very tight space). "But how --" to which Manic Landlord dramatically quoted Archimedes: "Give me a place to stand on, and I will move the Earth" (not to be confused with Barry White's boast: "Give me a furry-covered bed with mirrors on the ceiling, and I'll rock your world, baby"). My God, I thought, Greek thinkers and stoves, what a coincidence! To blog, with haste.

It's a toss-up for me, which one I know less about--the culinary arts or philosophy (though my knowledge of both laps my scientific acumen, by kilolitres)--but I know a lot of names and terminology, if not all the biography and definitions, and it's not as if a paltry bit of knowledge and a ton of balderdash ever stopped me before, so here goes. The other day I had to shelve a book titled Kant--A Brief Introduction. Now mama didn't raise no dummy dumb enough to shelve such a book in the self-help section, but as I walked over to the philosophy section, I glanced down at the book again and noticed that the little computerized price sticker said this: Kant--A Brie. Hmmm, I thought, I'm not much of a brie man myself, and I surely can't quote you no Kant, but I think I'd steer clear of the Kant Brie at a party just on general principles of sound alone. Got me thinking, though, of what a spread of Deep Thinkers Finger Food would be like. Unfortunately, as I've made clear, I don't know enough about deep thinking or deep frying to really pull off such an investigation in a nudge nudge kind of way, but maybe the marriage of the words will be enough to salivate your funny bones. I guess if you're strange enough to savor pate, the Kierkegaard Pate might sound pretty divine. Epictetus Bites make me scream, "I'm staying!" Hume Balls I'd try on a dare, but I, like most rational people, I assume, would pass on the Nietzsche Nosh. "Did you try some of the Kafka? Sandy made it from scratch. It's over there next to the baba ganoush and hummus, right before the couscous." Hegel Bagels, naturally. Hobbes Knobs. Proust Souffle? Cherry Pie ala Zola? Sartre Tarts? Fine, I'll just go to the Derby party and eat some salsa and Swedish meatballs and drink Mint Juleps.