Today’s blog serves as a Thank You note to a dear friend who invited us to a splendid dinner on Saturday. I chose a poem from Ben Jonson (1572-1637) because he, like our host, was a purveyor of literary criticism and known as someone who put an emphasis on critical learning.

For one like me who hates to cook and loves to eat, these occasions are blissful. Cold fennel soup, rack of lamb with asparagus and potatoes, and a divine Pavlova with raspberries were to the the belly what the table talk was to my mind: stimulating, satisfying, and ultimately providing sustenance extending beyond the evening.

Inviting a Friend to Supper

BY BEN JONSON

Tonight, grave sir, both my poor house, and I 
Do equally desire your company; 
Not that we think us worthy such a guest, 
But that your worth will dignify our feast 
With those that come, whose grace may make that seem 
Something, which else could hope for no esteem. 
It is the fair acceptance, sir, creates 
The entertainment perfect, not the cates. 
Yet shall you have, to rectify your palate, 
An olive, capers, or some better salad 
Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen, 
If we can get her, full of eggs, and then 
Lemons, and wine for sauce; to these a cony 
Is not to be despaired of, for our money; 
And, though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks, 
The sky not falling, think we may have larks. 
I’ll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come: 
Of partridge, pheasant, woodcock, of which some 
May yet be there, and godwit, if we can; 
Knat, rail, and ruff too. Howsoe’er, my man 
Shall read a piece of Virgil, Tacitus, 
Livy, or of some better book to us, 
Of which we’ll speak our minds, amidst our meat; 
And I’ll profess no verses to repeat. 

To this, if ought appear which I not know of, 
That will the pastry, not my paper, show of.
Digestive cheese and fruit there sure will be; 
But that which most doth take my Muse and me, 
Is a pure cup of rich Canary wine, 
Which is the Mermaid’s now, but shall be mine; 
Of which had Horace, or Anacreon tasted, 
Their lives, as so their lines, till now had lasted. 
Tobacco, nectar, or the Thespian spring, 
Are all but Luther’s beer to this I sing. 
Of this we will sup free, but moderately, 
And we will have no Pooley, or Parrot by, 
Nor shall our cups make any guilty men; 

But, at our parting we will be as when 
We innocently met. No simple word 
That shall be uttered at our mirthful board, 
Shall make us sad next morning or affright 
The liberty that we’ll enjoy tonight.

Source: Ben Jonson and the Cavalier Poets (W. W. Norton and Company, Inc., 1974)

Since the decor of French posters was catching my eye, we shall have some French music that celebrates the senses: it’s actually a sweet little film

Merci beaucoup!