Oh Dear, Just What Is An InterContinuum Photographic Chroniclelizer?

WP-CameraMany Readers have been asking  just what is the “InterContinuum Photographic Chroniclelizer” that I mentioned in my last discussion and why did I neglect to include any interesting bits of information on it? My sincerest apologies! In order to avoid any perturbation as a direct result of unresolved curiosity, I suggest that you refer to the brief explanation of the instrument on pages 61 and 62 in A Visitor’s Guide to Time Travel.  I have also included an image of my own Chroniclelizer to study.

In the unfortunate event that you have left your copy of this invaluable book on a train (along with your umbrella) or somehow otherwise have annoyingly misplaced it, I will repeat the description contained in its pages below.

InterContinuum Photographic Chroniclelizer

“Highly recommended equipment for all temporalnauts, this state-of-the-art camera
provides the means to bring back to the present both the mundane as well as
extraordinary moments in time.

Images captured with this device remain trapped outside of the time-continuum
and inside the patented AntiChronology Protection Chamber.

There, they remain independent and safely captured
within the Event-Duration film.

Through its exclusive Green Screen Technology, the Chroniclelizer
offers the time traveler unsurpassed ease in adjusting the voyage
predictability factors while on the road too!”

I trust that this helps put an end to any befuddlement. And now I must return to my work in the library and transcribe into a notebook the recipes that will recreate those wonderful gougères that I saw during my trip to the summer of 1816. But more on that later…

Since You Asked…

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In response to recent queries about how all of this staggeringly incredible time travel is possible, I reached for my copy of the book entitled A Visitor’s Guide to Time Travel and found a sensible explanation of it all in the chapter called “Time Travel and Parallel Universes Explained for Curious Individuals”.

According to this most definitive book, we live in an infinite assortment of wiggly-squigiggly multiverses that exist all at once. “Parallel” doesn’t even come into the equation and is merely a myth that arose from those who can only think along the same lines.

The multiverses are mostly made of Infinity and stretch outwards, inwards, forwards and backwards. To further muddle matters, everything exists all at once everywhere and every-when. Once set in motion, every fragment of reality never ceases to exist, they just are and they even look forward to your visits!

Time travel between multiverses isn’t liner but more like doing the hokey pokey. It requires one to put the right foot in, then take the left foot out (that is the particularly tricky part that requires a lot of practice) and then you shake it all about. You turn yourself around and, well…that’s what it’s all about.

Oh, and you have to be holding an InterContinuum Photographic Chroniclelizer that has first been switched on (otherwise you are simply performing some light calisthenics). With such, you don’t really travel to but rather snuggly blend into the alternate world of your choosing.

You must repeat the whole thing over again when you want to go home. I strongly urge the time traveler to find a private area to perform what is required to return to one’s own actuality in order to avoid the perplexed gazes from people or small animals nearby.

All of those brilliant minds trying to reconcile the mathematical inconsistencies that currently exist between quantum mechanics and the theory of relativity could definitively sort everything out with a just couple of dance lessons.

And now back to a more monumentally important subject…cheese.

Hmmm…Why Not?

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Oh… just why not! I decided to set aside my library search for a quick trip back to New York City, December 31, 1906! Very foggy, but no matter. My spirits were raised as high as the glass of my Manhattan. Things got pretty noisy at midnight and the din of horns, cowbells and fireworks kept up for nearly ten minutes!

Such a grand and boisterous time was had by all, I am tempted to go back again tonight to join in the fun once more…

Wishing you a New Year filled with Wonder!

 

Memories of Gruyere

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Although it was still storming back in 1816 outside of Lord Byron’s Villa Diodati, I returned to my own timeline and into a warm library with a soft, first snowfall taking place outdoors. The pungent smell of Gruyere from Byron’s buffet table was still fresh in my memory.

Those savory little pastries served to his guests that blustery night appeared to be Gougères – delicious, small, hollow pastry puffs made of a rich egg, butter and cheese dough. Byron’s chef had wisely chosen to use Gruyere cheese in his creation.

Seated at my library desk, I began my search for a period recipe for them and reached for the book L’Art de la cuisine française au dix-neuvième siècle by Chef Marie-Antoine Carême. This book is undeniably a triumphant culinary work of encyclopedic proportions.

Careme was a legend in his own time and took his celebrity chef status very seriously – cooking for Kings, a Czar and at least one Emperor. As a test to his creativity, he once prepared a years worth of menus using only seasonal ingredients with no repetitions. His cookbook was a fine first choice but a little over the top. I instead decided to explore an earlier work.

I turned to The Art of French Cookery written by Antoine Beauvilliers – a classic of French gastronomic literature written in 1814. Beauvilliers was both a chef and trendsetter, who very cleverly launched the splendid idea of a “restaurant”. His establishment, La Grande Taverne de Londres, opened in late 18th century Paris and was considered very cool; for up until then, nobody had come up with the notion of customers being able to visit a chic dining room and order from a menu what one wanted to eat. Sheer profitable brilliance!

Antoine Beauvilliers was a charismatic kind of guy who really enjoyed his own cooking. He was a savvy dresser and partial to wearing a sword. Charming and also armed with a memory like that of an elephant, Beauvilliers was known for never forgetting a guest who had visited his restaurant. Superb branding actually and his dashing choice of weaponry probably contributed to minimizing guest complaints. Not that he would get any, his food was considered delicious. Jean Brillat-Savarin, the founding father of gastronomy, regarded him as the finest of the early restaurateurs.

I made a note to myself to go back and visit this trendsetting restaurant in Paris one day – I admit to a weakness for elegant eating establishments with full wine cellars.

But now back to my search for a particular recipe, I had chosen my cookbook well. I found exactly what I was looking for on page 221…

Mad, Bad and Fad

Web-Ready-Byron-Private-DinnerReluctant to leave the warmth of Lord Byron’s library, I slipped into the hallway and headed for the study.  Periodic lightening strikes helped guide my way and kept me from tripping over any errant animal roving about the house.

From the looks of things upon my arrival in the study, Lord Byron seemed to be exceptionally talented at being messy. Stockings and “whatnot” were tossed about with abandon.  It appeared that Byron had not only enjoyed some company earlier in the evening, he was also afflicted with a lazy valet.  Well this was a tad awkward.  Was this the setting of a clandestine visit with Claire Clairmont perhaps?  After all, she had a raging crush on Byron so strong that it compelled her to travel to Lake Geneva with her stepsister, Mary Shelley and Percy Bysshe Shelley, in order to spend time with him.

Lord Byron was dashingly good looking, knew it and worked it.  He exuded Regency hip.  So attractive was he that his name became a coveted adjective for gentlemen to be described with. Women swooned from his “Byronic”  good looks.   Perpetuating his image though prompted Byron to be obsessed with his weight.

Unfortunately, his appetite was a determined force to be reckoned with; he made excuses for it by saying he had a “morbid propensity to fatten”.  Not truly, Byron just really, really liked to eat and drink and was very good at it too.

There was one other thing in Byron’s life that really irritated him. He was born with a club foot and was mortified by it his entire life.  Not willing to be inconvenienced by either science or common sense, he was convinced that his club foot was the result of his mother refusing to give up her corset during her pregnancy – he never forgave her.  He was fixated with drawing the eyes of those who looked at him upwards and away from his foot.  He did not want any stares to pause at a robust waist.   Maintaining his raffish appearance drove him to be a vanguard of the “fad diet”.

With these thoughts in mind, I moved across the study to a small table set for private dining.  Only a desperate, yet intrepid, eater would taste what lay before me.  I leaned in and took one eye-watering sniff.  The boiled potatoes looked to be smashed down with the back of the fork and reeked of vinegar. It appeared that he had thrown caution to the wind and almost finished off the boiled cabbage that shared the plate.  A small carafe of white wine and plain crackers rounded off the unfortunate looking meal.  One of his ex-lovers, Lady Caroline Lamb, described Lord Byron as “mad, bad and dangerous to know”.  Maybe he was just hungry?

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As I stood there considering the unpleasantness of this misguided Regency weight loss regimen, my toe kicked something under the table. A torpedo bottle!  A grand early design for a soda water bottle.  Its shape required it to remain on its side, thereby keeping the cork moist and sealing in the water’s effervescence.  Hmmm, soda water could further help dampen a zealous appetite.

Maybe it was true, Lord Byron preferred to eat alone and would fill up on such foods so as not to be hungry and eat at social gatherings.  Byron once wrote that he “found the sight of a woman eating as repulsive, unless she was eating Champagne and Lobster of course”.  The rogue!

Of Cheese Toast and Ghosts


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There is a well recognized adage – never deny an Englishman his Cheese Toast. Ever. It seems that Lord Byron was no exception to this rule. Somewhere in the massive quantity of luggage that he had hauled with him to Lake Geneva, he managed to find a small space to wedge this beautiful toasting fork that now lay in front of the fire. I wasn’t surprised. Lord Byron was an unapologetic over-packer. Overloaded with a vast quantity of must-have paraphernalia, his carriage chronically broke down as it made its way across Europe on the way to Lake Geneva. Apparently, you can take Lord Byron out of England, but couldn’t take England out of Byron – he needed his Cheese Toast.

And now this long-handled fork rested upon a trivet in front of the low flames and was quietly toasting a small, skewered piece of bread a delectable golden brown. It seemed a cozy choice for the poets to eat while listening to ghost stories.

A wedge of cheese (Raclette, I believe) sat nearby, softening to an optimal consistency. The melted side of the cheese closest to the fire would be scraped off and spread over the toast. Perfection in its simplicity. A decanter of Sack, or Sherry, rested close at hand as an excellent partner for the cheese. Alas, this charming treat had been completely forgotten when the group made their way upstairs to their beds.

It was hard to pass up such a delicious morsel, but I was curious to see what was in the room next door. I turned my back to the fire and made my way to the hall.