I know. Raymond Chandler? The closest I usually come to connecting him with food is the term “hard-boiled,” and in his context it never has to do with eggs.
However, I am in the throes of a Chandler obsession thanks to a very good Christmas gift. When I’m not working or trying to convince The Cheese-Hater to taste some cheese, I’ve got my head buried in a Chandler novel and I’m transported to another planet. A planet where people say things like: “He was looking at me and neither his eyes nor the gun moved. He was as calm as an adobe wall in the moonlight.”
So once again, what does this have to do with food? Well, even detective Philip Marlowe has to eat (or not). He also happens to have a) opinions about Americans and eating that aren’t at all out of line with this blog’s and b) an impressive arsenal of food-related similes and metaphors at his disposal. In The Long Goodbye (rush out and buy or borrow it—seriously) I couldn’t help smiling at this passage, which appears about a page after Marlowe says he has no appetite for lunch and instead gets “the office bottle out of the deep drawer.” But then he makes a critical phone call and gets restless.
We hung up. I went down to the drugstore and ate a chicken salad sandwich and drank some coffee. The coffee was over-strained and the sandwich was as full of rich flavor as a piece torn off an old shirt. Americans will eat anything if it is toasted and held together with a couple of toothpicks and has lettuce sticking out of the sides, preferably a little wilted.
And here, just because I really can’t resist Marlowe (though as a self-respecting dame, I should really know better) is a little bonus item:
The jangle of the telephone dragged me up out of a black well of sleep. I rolled over on the bed, fumbled for slippers and realized that I hadn’t been asleep for more than a couple of hours. I felt like a half-digested meal eaten in a greasy spoon joint.
Just one more description I’ll go to my grave wishing I’d written myself.
Eating For Beginners 