Carmen
During a trip to Spain the French writer Prosper Merimee was witness to a passionate affair.
Jose, the local sergeant of the local Guardia Civil fell passionately for the enigmatic, fascinating, beautiful and rebellious local beauty, Carmen. Succumbing to his delirious passion the sergeant turned himself into a victim and ran headlong to his fate. Despite his position he knew nothing of Carmen except that she worked in a cigarette factory and was a popular figure of the nightlife in Triana. For those who have never been to Seville Triana is, to my mind and taste, the only place worth visiting. It is the equivalent of the left bank in Paris, the Latin Quarter and London's Soho rolled into one. And talking of rolling Carmen was often rolling other things on her thighs than cigarettes and was known to keep open bed.
One day she carved one of her co-workers with a knife during a hen fight and the Jefe ordered Jose to arrest her. Totally under the spell of her velvet dark eyes Jose let her escape.
That passionate action cost him his sergeant stripes and he was put in the slammer for a week. Not that it cooled things off because upon his release he finally was allowed to have his wicked ways with the voluptuous Carmen's body. Carmen, he found was very experienced in the art of making a man comfortable but the penny, or rather the peseta, had not yet dropped. From the moment of passionate possession the day was lost for Jose and he became criminally obsessed. What he did not bargain for was that Carmen welcomed anybody in her bed as long as they filled up her purse. In other words she was a whore. Nothing wrong with that. It is the oldest trade in the world, practised by men and women alike.
But passion and jealousy got Jose by the proverbials and he commits his first murder. From then on he is caught in a spiral of disasters. He is on the run and the only refuge he finds is with a gang of outlaws, friends of Carmen of course. Pillage, robbery and murder become a way of life but this is the only way Jose can keep near Carmen. For the ex-sergeant there is no doubt that he has chosen the right path. What a plonker..
If the situation was not explosive enough Jose discovers that Carmen is married. The dream of spending the rest of life with Carmen evaporates in clouds of madness and when furthermore she gets involved with a toreador of some fame Jose's hands are doomed to be tainted with blood.
No supplications, no desperate demands can shift that bitch from her bed of pleasure. His tears of passion fall onto stony ground amidst the most terrible indifference.
The end is passionately bloody.
Another French man, who never set foot in Spain, managed to write an opera about that pair and if I remember well another passionate choreographer designed a ballet thus glamorising what in fact is a sordid story of a slut and an imbecile. Not even the classic eternal triangle. Rather a multi-stalls cattle market place.
I always wondered what would have happened if "Carmen" had been written by a modern Spaniard. In our today Spain the husband would have divorced Carmen, Jose would have arrested all the outlaws, belted Carmen around the ears so she had to call the emergency line for battered women; He would have been promoted Jefe de la Guardia Civil whilst making passionate love to a blond foreigner from some Northern shore. Carmen would be taking three screaming kids to school every morning at quarter to nine. Not much to make an opera out of. Nothing would have made the earth move save the size of the legal fees when the second divorce was on the way.
A pity.
Passion has always been an infuriating way of Spanish life looking from a foreigner point of view. But Spain is passion. As Miguel Cervantes wrote in the preface of his masterpiece: "The Spaniards live for passion. If they can't find it they will invent it." Don Quitoje de la Mancha had the passion to fight all sorts of evils in this world. He found only windmills. Never mind. He passionately charged them. Our Jose's passion took him to the ultimate portals of fate but it does not need to get that far. Ask any Spaniard in a bar what football Club he is supporting and you will have a modern dose of passion thrown at you like a bucket of hot water. The shock stuns you at first but things do cool down until somebody else starts talking local politics. Then it is time to go and have a walk. Passion in political matters should carry a government warning.
At any time of the year, in any country around the world you can bet your bottom Euro that there is a rendition of "Carmen" even in some obscure language.
Passion is international like cooking. It is an obscure primeval necessity that binds all of us to the same goals. Talking about cooking I had not much passion left in me the other night after writing all day sitting on a so-called ergonomic chair. I came to the conclusion that my backside is passionately allergic to anything ergonomic. But I had to do something. This is what I came up with:
FROM MY KITCHEN
Writing the Mister Bear stories I feel that I have honey right up to my hairline. We have the most wonderful honey from the mountains in Andalusia. We buy it loose by the kilo.
Sometimes it is a strain to find something different to eat and in desperation I looked around fridge and cupboards for inspiration.
This is what I came up with:
Turkey fillets or chicken breasts in honey and wine
Enough for 4:4 thick fillets of turkey or 4 chicken breasts cut in half length way
1 onion peeled and sliced
3 carrots peeled and thickly sliced on the slant (it looks better)
1 courgette cut in sticks with seeds removed
2 good tablespoons of real butter (margarine will not work)
3 tablespoons of runny honey
1 stock cube
1 glass of white wine
1 tablespoon of mixed spices such as used for brochettes
Any herbs available like bay leaf, thyme, sage, rosemary etc. Salt to taste. You can add any left over vegetables.
Heat up the butter in a large pan. Fry the meat until gold on all sides. Remove and keep aside. Add the onion and carrots to the pan and stir. Add a little more butter if necessary. Pour the honey and stir until it caramelises. Add the wine, the spices, the herbs and the stock cube. Stir well. Put the meat back in the pan and cover. Simmer gently for about 15 minutes. Add the courgette, give a gentle stir and check for seasoning. If necessary add a little more wine or water. Serve very hot with plain rice, couscous or boiled potatoes.
Bon Appetit!
If Carmen had kept her nose to the stove instead of on her pillow Jose might have become Prime minister.
But then of course, there would not have been a book, an opera or a ballet.
Passionately yours,
JOCELYNE
