Introduction
Take – An old castle, half of it ruinous.
A long gallery, with a great many doors, some secret ones.
Three murdered bodies, quite fresh.
As many skeletons, in chests and presses.
An old woman hanging by the neck; with her throat cut.
Assassins and desperadoes, ‘quant. suff.’
Noise, whispers, and groans, threescore at least.
This useful recipe for a Gothic novel is taken from the piece “Terrorist Novel Writing,” published in 1797 when the new genre was already enjoying popular success. The formula would be adapted, embellished, and adjusted over the next two centuries, not unlike a New Orleans gumbo recipe that follows some fundamental rules, but uses the best ingredients at hand at the moment. Authors and artists have always adapted Gothic to their own time; one could say that humanity has an endless appetite for it in some form.
And you, Gentle Reader, can also serve it forth.
Let us begin by combining two basic elements: first, a particular expression of Gothic, starting with the 18th-century novel that originated the genre, and wending our way chronologically through its various permutations and subgenres to the present day. We will see a common thread in these works, which are essentially about Death – or more precisely, about our fear of death.
And it is not only about the end of our lives, that enormous intractable inescapable one-way finality, but also about our fear of change, of the hundreds of little deaths and rebirths we undergo in the course of our short lives, and about power and powerlessness, and identity, and awareness, and various other nerve-shattering aspects of existence. Gothic’s principle way of dancing us up to unbearable subjects is through a faint waltz in a minor key in a candlelit room, with shadowy shapes against the wall, their dimly glowing eyes following us silently. It’s all about the mood.
From particular Gothic narratives, we will take our second element: food, which as M. F. K. Fisher observed is about Life. “First we eat, then we do everything else.” To eat is to defy death, to affirm the functioning of the human machine, to volunteer for another day. To stop eating is to start dying. Yet the consumption of food is more than fuel intake; it is family, community, activity, relish, satiation, love, a completely content moment and an investment in a future. Anyone who has watched a beloved child wolf down a meal instinctively understands this.
And so we must wonder what will happen when the Gothic mood meets food. Can we enjoy a bowl of gazpacho while inexorable Death waits down the hall? I suggest that we can, if the soup is garnished with fresh dill and if we decide for a moment to laugh, or at least smile grimly, about what we can’t change.
On this grave site you will find delectably mood-filled dinners, each suggested by a great Gothic work or body of work, each with its own recipe of background, menu, recipes, and ambience-inducing details. Thirteen, of course, because it is the uneasiest, moodiest number in American culture. But it’s also a “happy” number, defined as a positive integer that will reduce by a set formula to 1, demonstrating an important premise of Gothic: that the dark and the light go hand-in-hand.
Enjoy creating the dinners; then enjoy consuming them with like-minded friends.
Because we’re all going to die someday.
General Guidelines for the Gastronomic Gothic
Choose Your Guests Wisely
Not everyone finds the darker side of life entertaining, or even tolerable. The ability to appreciate Gothic runs the gamut from nonexistent -- those who simply pretend it’s not there -- to those with a disposition like that ascribed by Huckleberry Finn to Emmeline Grangerford: “. . . I reckoned with her disposition she was having a better time in the graveyard.” However much you love them, you may want to avoid inviting anyone who has ever said, “All you need in life is a good attitude!” They may be right, but they won’t enjoy these dinners. If in doubt, ask about their favorite holiday movie. Miracle on 34th Street, or It’s a Wonderful Life? Probably not. A Christmas Story, or the MST3K episode of Santa Claus Conquers the Martians? Possibly. The Nightmare before Christmas? Yes, Virginia.
Invitations
Letters play a significant role in Gothic narratives, particularly late 18th and 19th century ones, sometimes setting up a mystery, occasionally solving one, often carrying the weight of promises and threats. They can be a presence almost amounting to a minor character. Ergo, no evites. The ideal invitation is on heavy paper, folded thrice or in an envelope with sealing wax the color of congealed blood. It should be pushed under the door, dropped in a purse or shopping bag, placed inside a book, or left on the car seat, if you can’t manage to secrete it unnoticed in a medicine cabinet, nightstand, or galosh. It would be best if you could invent a new persona, or write it in code; but understandably you’d like your guests to show up, so understated works best.
The Art of Improvisation
You are welcome to follow each dinner’s recipe closely, or in the essential spirit of Gothic, to make it your own by the addition or elimination of elements. The key question when considering a change should always be Will this make everyone more uneasy? Because Gothic is first, foremost, and always about the mood. The setting may change from an ancestral mansion to an American motel; the form has long left the confines of the novel, and the characters may come from any and every walk of life; but mood is the one aspect that doesn’t change as Gothic slithers in and out of other genres and styles and through various media. Gothic is not about jump-scares or gore. It’s the feeling that something is not right, something you can’t clearly identify. Your intuition is thrumming a low sustained warning; you’re on orange alert, but the specific danger is not evident, and that is what gives it a terrible and unique power. You don’t know in which direction you should run, or even whether you should. You’re in a liminal space between everything’s fine and holy hell what was that?
And what better place to put a dinner table?
