Right, so I made these muffins yesterday in a fit of procrastination and it was suggested to me that I am not the only one for whom this happens. I was glad to hear it, as per this post by Inside Higher Ed. While I refuse to call it “procrastibaking” I will say that I agree with the blog post about it being a great way to engage your body and mind in a different way than tedious reading or writing.
With that in mind, I was wondering how I could mix both literature and baking and I got to thinking that it’d be a great thing for a blogger to pair their reading with their baking. So, without further ado, I give you this scene from Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, Act II Part 1.
Algernon. I don’t think there is much likelihood, Jack, of you and Miss Fairfax being united.
Jack. Well, that is no business of yours.
Algernon. If it was my business, I wouldn’t talk about it. [Begins to eat muffins.] It is very vulgar to talk about one’s business. Only people like stock-brokers do that, and then merely at dinner parties.
Jack. How can you sit there, calmly eating muffins when we are in this horrible trouble, I can’t make out. You seem to me to be perfectly heartless.
Algernon. Well, I can’t eat muffins in an agitated manner. The butter would probably get on my cuffs. One should always eat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them.
Jack. I say it’s perfectly heartless your eating muffins at all, under the circumstances.
Algernon. When I am in trouble, eating is the only thing that consoles me. Indeed, when I am in really great trouble, as any one who knows me intimately will tell you, I refuse everything except food and drink. At the present moment I am eating muffins because I am unhappy. Besides, I am particularly fond of muffins. [Rising.]
Jack. [Rising.] Well, that is no reason why you should eat them all in that greedy way. [Takes muffins from Algernon.]
Algernon. [Offering tea-cake.] I wish you would have tea-cake instead. I don’t like tea-cake.
Jack. Good heavens! I suppose a man may eat his own muffins in his own garden.
Algernon. But you have just said it was perfectly heartless to eat muffins.
Jack. I said it was perfectly heartless of you, under the circumstances. That is a very different thing.
Algernon. That may be. But the muffins are the same. [He seizes the muffin-dish from Jack.]
Jack. Algy, I wish to goodness you would go.
Algernon. You can’t possibly ask me to go without having some dinner. It’s absurd. I never go without my dinner. No one ever does, except vegetarians and people like that.
Aaaaaaand, scene! Well, not really, but I’ve got all I need.
So, maybe I’ll make some tea cake. Maybe vegetarian tea cake. I do have to finish writing those qualifying reading lists soon and I’d like to put it off as long as I can.