Andrew Sullivan's Blog, page 48

Battle Of The Bites

In an Intelligent Life roundtable on the world’s best cuisine, Josie DeLap argues that Iranian food is underrated:

Politics has kept Iranian food tucked away in the Tupperware box of the Islamic Republic. Other Middle Eastern cuisines are brazen. Lebanon flaunts its sophistication. Morocco flourishes its tagines, with their fruit and meat, so cleverly combined. Turkey brandishes its breads and flashes its kebabs. Who thinks of Iran?

And yet this is the source of it all. Cultivated over millennia, enhanced by numerous invasions both launched and endured, Iranian food has a subtlety and intricacy unrivalled but unrecognised—at least by outsiders. Who knows of its jewelled rice, studded with ruby barberries, flickers of sour sweetness, amid rice gold-stained with saffron, run through with shards of pistachios? Who has heard of caramelised sohan, a nutty brittle, produced mostly in Qom, Iran’s holiest city, its buttery excess so at odds with the austere piety of its creators? What of kuku sabzi, an omelette thick with fistfuls of coriander, parsley, dill, chives, tarragon, fenugreek? The world is missing out.

Katherine Rundell, for her part, sticks up for English cuisine, writing that “British food is best when it has heart, literally as well as figuratively.” Bee Wilson maintains that French is foremost:

French cuisine can be seen as passé and unhealthy. Sure, it’s delicious, but who wants to eat all that heavy meat in fancy Escoffier sauces any more? To dismiss it in this way is to neglect the fact that it has always been about much more than Michelin pretension. Its genius can be seen in delicate fish soups with a dollop of fiery rouille; rare onglet steak and salads of green beans; tiny wedges of big-tasting cheese. It’s there in the habit of avoiding snacks between meals, not from self-denial, but because hunger is the best sauce. French cuisine is the best because it’s founded on an understanding of how to square the circle of pleasure and health.

But Fuchsia Dunlop finds Chinese food does a better job:

No other culture lays such an emphasis on the intimate relationship between food and health. The everyday Chinese diet is based on grains and vegetables, with modest amounts of meat and fish, and very little sugar—a model for healthy and sustainable eating. A good Chinese meal is all about balance: even a lavish banquet should leave you feeling shufu—comfortable and well.

Mental Health Break

Tour Vienna via snowglobe:

Dish Awards: Who Will Take The Yglesias?

The Yglesias Award is for writers, politicians, columnists or pundits who actually criticize their own side, make enemies among political allies, and generally risk something for the sake of saying what they believe. Right now one of the top two vote-getters is Glenn Beck, reflecting on the Iraq War:

In spite of the things I felt at the time when we went into war, liberals said: We shouldn’t get involved. We shouldn’t nation-build. And there was no indication the people of Iraq had the will to be free. I thought that was insulting at the time. Everybody wants to be free. They said we couldn’t force freedom on people. Let me lead with my mistakes. You are right. Liberals, you were right. We shouldn’t have.

Then, currently in the lead, is Charles Krauthammer responding to knee-jerk conservative support for Cliven Bundy:

It isn’t enough to say I don’t agree with what he said. This is a despicable statement. It’s not the statement, you have to disassociate yourself entirely from the man. It’s not like the words exist here and the man exists here. And why conservatives, or some conservatives end up in bed with people who, you know, he makes an anti-government statement, he takes an anti-government stand, he wears a nice big hat and he rides a horse, and all of a sudden he is a champion of democracy …

Look, do I have the right to go in to graze sheep in Central Park? I think not. You have to have some respect for the federal government, some respect for our system. And to say you don’t and you don’t recognize it and that makes you a conservative hero, to me, is completely contradictory, and rather appalling. And he has now proved it.

Vote for one of the above, or any of the other eight Yglesias Award finalists, here. After that, cast your votes for the 2014 Malkin Award, Hathos Alert, Poseur Alert, Cool Ad, Face Of The Year, and the year’s best Chart, Mental Health Break and View From Your Window. Plus, now for the first time you can help choose the Map Of The Year and Beard Of The Year as well! Polls will close on Wednesday night, so have at it:

Click here to vote for the Beard Of The Year!
Click here to vote for the Chart Of The Year!
Click here to vote for the Cool Ad Of The Year!
Click here to vote for the Face Of The Year!
Click here to vote for the Hathos Alert Of The Year!
Click here to vote for the 2014 Malkin Award!
Click here to vote for the Map Of The Year!
Click here to vote for the Mental Health Break Of The Year!
Click here to vote for the Poseur Alert Of The Year!
Click here to vote for the Window View Of The Year!
Click here to vote for the 2014 Yglesias Award!

Please note: due to there not being enough nominees this year, we will not be issuing a 2014 Hewitt Award, Moore Award, or Dick Morris Award. Learn more about all our awards here.

A Poem From The Year

“Summer Moods” by John Clare (1793-1864):

I love at eventide to walk alone

Down narrow lanes o’erhung with dewy thorn

Where, from the long grass underneath, the snail

Jet black creeps out and sprouts his timid horn.

I love to muse o’er meadows newly mown

Where withering grass perfumes the sultry air,

Where bees search round with sad and weary drone

In vain for flowers that bloomed but newly there,

While in the juicy corn the hidden quail

Cries “wet my foot” and hid as thoughts unborn

The fairylike and seldom-seen landrail

Utters “craik craik” like voices underground,

Right glad to meet the evening’s dewy veil

And see the light fade into glooms around.

Please consider supporting the work of The Poetry Society of America here.

(From “I Am”: The Selected Poetry of John Clare, edited by Jonathan Bate © 2003 by Jonathan Bate. Reprinted by permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux. Photo by Tom Marsh)

What Happens At Ayn Rand Conferences Stays At Ayn Rand Conferences

John Paul Rollert, who braved a recent Objectivist conference held in Las Vegas, understands both the philosophy and the city to be escapes from reality. As an example, he cites the response of Yaron Brooks, the executive director of the Ayn Rand Institute, to an attendee’s question about the homelessness and poverty he saw all along the Strip:

Brook’s response began unevenly, detouring through an observation about the malice of minimum-wage laws and a presentist history of the progressive era before turning to the young man’s question. “None of these phenomena that you’re seeing out there, homeless people and so on, are phenomena of capitalism,” he declared. The people outside the gates of The Venetian, hustling in the 111-degree heat, their fates are the “phenomena of mixed economy,” the side-effects of social welfare policies and regulations. They exist despite capitalism, not because of it.

The young man did not seem entirely satisfied with the answer, and Brook, himself, seemed hesitant.

By and large, when it comes to questions about the structural shortcomings of capitalism, the most persuasive answers will be of a dry and technical nature. They won’t savor of the sulfurous clash between the forces of good and evil, an ideological battle to which Objectivists might not only contribute, but one which (if you take their word for it) they are destined to lead. “There is nobody out there who can talk about self-esteem, about individualism, and about capitalism with the moral certainty and the moral fervor we can,” Brook declared. “Objectivism is the only bulwark to what the Left is doing. The fate of Western Civilization depends on what we do.”

This is the familiar pledge of a radical philosophy. To the unaccustomed ear, it can sometimes sound like a clarion call, piercing, at last, the din of confusion. Otherwise, it can seem like the unnerving pitch of the card-clicker, an invitation to a strange and sinister world that one is very relieved to escape.

On a lighter note, Mallory Ortberg offers a number of movie reviews written as if she were Ayn Rand. One favorite? This take on Willie Wonka & the Chocolate Factory:

An excellent movie. The obviously unfit individuals are winnowed out through a series of entrepreneurial tests and, in the end, an enterprising young boy receives a factory. I believe more movies should be made about enterprising young boys who are given factories. —Three and a half stars. (Half a star off for the grandparents, who are sponging off the labor of Charlie and his mother. If Grandpa Joe can dance, Grandpa Joe can work.)

Lessons From The Digital Revolution

Reviewing Walter Isaacson’s The Innovators, James Surowiecki notices an important one – we shouldn’t romanticize the role of lone geniuses:

That may sound odd, since the story of invention is usually told as a story of great inventors. But as Isaacson reveals, the true engine of innovation is collaboration. The pairing of a creative visionary and a more practical engineer (such as John Mauchly and J. Presper Eckert, who created ENIAC, or Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak at Apple) can be enormously productive. And it isn’t just strong pairs, either; the organizations that have done best at innovating have typically been those that have relied on strong teams made up of diverse thinkers from lots of different disciplines. …

One of the reasons diverse teams have tended to be more successful is that they have done a better job of turning ideas into actual products. This is an important theme in Isaacson’s book: genuine innovations are not just about brilliant insights. They’re the result of taking those insights and turning them into things that people will actually use and then finding a way to get those products into people’s hands. One of the more interesting sections of The Innovators is Isaacson’s account of John Atanasoff’s quixotic quest to build a general-purpose computer by himself in the early 1940s. Atanasoff anticipated important aspects of what would become ENIAC and constructed a prototype. But because he worked alone, in Iowa, rather than in a lab with other scientists and engineers, his computer never became fully functional, and he became a footnote to history, eclipsed by Mauchly and Eckert. Isaacson takes Atanasoff’s efforts seriously, but he notes that “we shouldn’t in fact romanticize such loners.” Real innovation isn’t just about an invention. As Eckert put it, “You have to have a whole system that works.” And that’s hard to do when you’re all by yourself.

Emails Of The Day

A handful of your notes especially warmed our hearts this Christmas:

Hey Andrew and company! On a recent family vacation to Las Vegas, I brought along my Dish t-shirt. My mother, desperate for post-empty nest family photos, snapped pictures at every conceivable opportunity in the hopes of getting something for our family Christmas card. Lo and behold, the photo that made the cut featured yours truly donning the now-iconic howling beagle. Now dozens upon dozens of my parents’ friends will get some not-so-subtle Dish advertising beamed into their mailboxes this December; I hope I can help drive up the subscription numbers (I bought my dad a gift membership for starters)!

Another subscriber:

My soon-to-be-husband correctly picked up on my not-too-subtle hints, and gave me my very own Dish mug for an early Christmas present! I am a thoroughly delighted Dish head, and enjoyed the inaugural cup o’ joe just this morning.

I’ve given Dish subscriptions as holiday gifts – selectively, to certain friends and family members – for several years now, often explaining that I certainly don’t agree with every opinion or perspective contained at the Dish, but that I always find it lively, engaging, and thought-provoking.

So I raise a cup of kindness and gratitude to you, Andrew and Team Dish. Here’s wishing you all health, happiness, and stamina for the year ahead.

P.S. Yes, that’s a fabulous, glittery rainbow flag ornament in the background on the tree!

And another:

I’m sure you’ll be inundated with these on the 25th, but as a Hispanic celebrating Noche Buena, I have a one-day headstart to boast about my amazing wife’s gift-giving abilities. She knew just how to make this Dish-head happy this year, with a double whammy:

I love her. And I love you guys. Merry Christmas, and here’s to a very happy, Dish-filled New Year.

And speaking of 2015:

Has The Dish ever thought of doing some kind of gathering of Dishheads? It would be awesome to be able to chat with the whole team as well as with each other. Not sure exactly what the format would be, but it might a great way to further the Dish community, as well as provide some in-person recognition for you guys. Mainly, I suggest it for selfish reasons: I don’t know any other Dishheads, but would like to!

Events are very much on our agenda for the new year, so stay tuned. And thanks again for your support in 2014. We’ll have a year-end update soon.

A Story About Surviving The War On Christmas Decorations

Simon Doonan explains what happens when window dressing the White House turns into the country’s first découpage-centered political controversy:

Doonan is the Creative Ambassador for Barney’s New York as well as a Slate columnist, fashion commentator and professional window dresser. His latest book is Asylum: A Collage of Couture Reminiscences…and Hysteria. Previously featured storytelling on the Dish here. Learn more about The Moth here.

The Menace Of Mistletoe

Helen Thompson characterizes the holiday plant as “basically a vampire,” calling it “a parasite that spends its days sucking the ‘lifeforce’ from trees round the globe”:

Mistletoe’s parasitism starts with poop and exploding berries. Mistletoe bushes clump on branches like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. Their parasitism is airborne. Birds eat their berries, which are coated in gluey material called viscin. The birds poop all over the forest, and thanks to the viscin, the mistletoe seeds in said poop stick to branches. Once firmly attached to the branch, mistletoe sprouts and drills down into the branch until it reaches the tree’s veins. It sticks a haustorium (basically a straw) in and sips the tree’s mineral and water cocktail.

Another group of mistletoes, dwarf mistletoes, does things a bit differently. In a dramatic twist on mistletoe reproduction, their seeds explode, literally. The blast zone can reach up to 15 feet. Seeds stick to saplings and wedge themselves into the tree’s innards, infecting the entire tree, and sprouting sometimes years later. These guys are full parasites, taking sugar, water, and minerals from the tree. “Dwarf mistletoe is freaky, freaky, freaky stuff,” says David Watson, an ecologist at Charles Sturt University in Australia. “Its [shoots] look like miniature asparagus.”

Eventually, the mistletoe bush grows, blooms, and forms berries, and the cycle begins anew.

For a more festive take on the plant, check out the below Broad City webisode, which follows Abbi’s pursuit of her first below-the-mistletoe kiss:

(Photo by Timothy Valentine)

Why Christmas Songs Stir Us

Joseph Bottum, the critic and author, explains why he has taken to writing Christmas songs – they are “one of the last few enchantments left in our public world”:

Think of it this way: If meaning comes only from us — if meaning arrives only via the human outlook on the world — then there is nothing meaningful in itself. Oh, sure, we have great emotions and great hungers. That’s part of what we want art to express. But what outside ourselves is inherently worthy of having our great feelings attached to it? In a thin world, nothing is enchanted. Nothing is naturally weighty, meaningful, infused with power. Nothing is rich, thick, and alive with the kind of true beauty that art needs to survive beyond a few generations.

Throw in a few zombies, however, and you’ve got a world, for screenwriters and viewers, that thrums with all the deep meaning of the apocalypse and the end of days. Toss in some vampires, ghosts, and demons, and you have a world in which evil and good have palpable presence.

In other words, a hunger for a metaphysically rich, supernaturally thick, emotionally wrought world is written across our age. And Christmas still provides it to artist and audience.

(Video for the Bottom-penned “Some Come to See the Lord”)