“Quartet for the End of Time” & The Door to Night
Credit: Alison C. Rollins, from Library of Small Catastrophes.
Poem: “Quartet for the End of Time”
Though wisdom is common, the many live as if they have wisdom of their own.
The way upward and the way downward is one and the same
- Heraclitus; Epigraphs from T.S. Elliot’s “Four Quartets”
I’ve been inspired by Alison C. Rollins’ poem “A Quartet for the End of Time” (published at Poetry) because it is, on its surface, lyrical silk with a few pop culture references that may be easily recognized even on a first read through (I see you, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, the soundtrack to my 1996 summer). But there’s so much more packed within the 84 lines of poetry that with a closer look reveals more to enjoy, and to learn. Allusions to Shakespeare and mythology, and more poignant connections about our current social climate in the United States and slavery, tying the past to the present in a heartfelt and powerful quartet. It’s also written in the style of T.S. Elliot’s “Four Quartets”, a poem itself laced with depth and the poet’s reflections on religion and science, nature and order, and his own purpose. Because of the more intense nature of this week’s look into “A Quartet for the End of Time” I’ve put the cocktail recipe here, at the top, but I encourage you to not only read the poem but to scroll down and see what may lie beneath its surface.
Cocktail: The Door to Night
…Then
We sat and ate with our hands,
An entire field of wild thyme
….Who can open the door to night
And not see themselves in black?-From “A Quartet for the End of Time”
I wanted this cocktail to hold within it’s glass walls the concrete ideas of time and effort without considering accessibility, which is usually the opposite of how I approach drinks. I want everyone everywhere to enjoy my cocktails. But what if I didn’t worry about that? What would a cocktail without that concern look like? Using the imagery of wild thyme and the color black, I focused on a marriage of flavor and methodology, on craft, and what resulted from many frustrating nights of trial and error was The Door to Night, an uncertain gateway to something wonderful for which most probably don’t have the time.
It’s a Ramos Fizz variant which uses egg and cream to create a stiff foam that can be raised from the top of the glass. It’s also very technical and quite frustrating. If you want to make an enemy at a craft bar, order a round of these—you’ll soon be on no-fly list. But they’re delicious. Airy, tart, full of flavor, they’re as great on a hot patio over brunch as they are on your couch under a blanket during the holidays. If someone makes one of these for you it’s truly an act of affection, like cooking, as important as touch.
Recipe: The Door to Night
2oz Gin (use your favorite)
1 Large Stem of Thyme
1oz Blackberry Oleo* (or simple syrup)
0.75oz Lemon Juice
0.5oz Lime Juice
1oz Cream (Heavy, Heavy Whipping, or Half & Half)
1 Egg White (from a large egg, about 1.5oz)
Optional: 2oz Soda Water
Pull the leaves from the thyme and put them in your shaker tin; add the gin and little muddle two or three times. Let that sit and infuse for 5 to 10 minutes (you don’t need to remove the thyme before building the rest of the cocktail).
Put the rest of ingredients (except the Soda Water) in a tin with a lot of ice and shake vigorously for at least 30 seconds. This will aerate the mixture, frothing the eggs and cream.
Strain the mixture into another shaker tin (not into the glass). Dump the ice. Reshake the ingredients for another 30-60 seconds.
Strain mixture into glass and wait until the layers settle, about two or three minutes. After they settle, you can place a thyme-pierced blackberry in the center, or a straw. The foam should cradle the garnish.
Optional: Before garnishing, pierce the foam with a straw to make a small hole and slowly pour the soda water into the opening. This should push the foam up so that it rises above the rim of the glass. Place the straw or garnish back into the hole, and serve.
Notes: *Blackberry Oleo (or any Oleo) is a simple recipe of one part “this” to one part “that”, and usually best if done by weight. For the Blackberry Oleo, weigh one container of blackberries (in grams, if you’re able) and add them to a sealable bag like a Ziplock. Add the same weight of white sugar to the bag, press out as much air as you can (or submerge the bag in water to get a tighter fit), and seal. Let that sit on a counter, away from heat, for about 24 hours and then strain through a fine mesh strainer. It’s okay if there’s some residual sugar sludging about. If you can’t get to the oleo with 24 hours, just refrigerate it; sugar is a preservative and will keep the berries safe for at least two weeks.
From: St. Louis Mag; Photo By: Maya Ayanna Darasaw
Poem: “Quartet for the End of Time”
It’s an unmistakable fact, right now, that we’re at a tumultuous turning point in the United States. You cannot avoid the onslaught of opinion and debate, the “narrativization” of science nor the editorializing that happens to all information. Everything passes through multiple filters before it arrives on our devices that fact and fiction are blurred into an indiscernible combination that many Americans have trouble parsing, unable to tell whether the narrative on their screens is honest or not, or even if the message they’re getting is in their best interest. The truth, then, becomes inaccessible, and when something is inaccessible it’s often forgotten or ignored and, in its place, we reach for what is accessible—and in a time of uncertainty and fear that has become the easiest path towards comfort and familiarity.
This is a long way around to talking about accessibility, effort, and time.
Only through time is time
Conquered. Come correct.
Accessibility in art is probably the most shared topic between artists and makers, and the people who consume their work, those people who go to museums or concerts or who pick up a literary journal and flip through its pages. It’s usually framed in the context of “audience”. Who is this for? Poetry is often the most overlooked, and undervalued, creative writing expression out of the whole because it defies that need to be understood in a question-answer sort of way. It invites uncertainty, curiosity, and, at times, asks readers to embrace the joy of not “getting it”. And while poetry can be narrative and structured, it is often elusive and open-ended, which is unsettling for most. In an interview with The Interlocutor, Rollins talks about the accessibility of her poetry and how her work is “more invested in messy question asking than resolute answers….Elaborating on or disclosing what I meant in the writing process often functions to foreclose potential possibilities for the reader” even though, for Americans, we’ve become addicted to “the answer”. We want to know what it “means.” Rollins’ “Quartet” navigates the need for definition and answers easily, with clear imagery and a forward narrative movement in each section, and with just a few pop culture references there are familiar shapes in the usual darkness of poetry. But there’s so much more if the reader leaves behind their need for simple definition and steps further into the unknown.
This, of course, takes effort. Accessibility is perilously tied to the day-to-day triage of time we perform without much thought. Will we take the time to stop by the store for groceries and then spend thirty- or sixty-minutes making dinner, or will we grab some to-go and save some time for something else? Will we make the effort, or won’t we? Every day, we do this an immeasurable number of times. And poetry asks us for more effort. But the question of effort implies a payoff, a reward. No risk, no reward. Fate favors the brave. Nothing can come from nothing. Pick your proverb, here. Rollins’ “Quartet” is worth the effort because the harder you look (and the more you use Google to search) the more it reveals. Treasures abound in this poem. She even gives you hints, helpful starting places from which to begin.
The first is with T.S. Elliot’s “Four Quartets”, which can give you some context for how her poem is working, and then, within “A Quartet for the End of Time”, there are certain images and phrases that draw attention to themselves. “If you play me then you / Play yourself” is a song lyric from Ice-T’s “You Played Yourself” (where he comments about the importance of education, math and science); the Kingfisher and it’s mythological connection and “When asked to choose a hill / To die on, we wanted to kill / The bird” which seems to be an allusion to To Kill A Mockingbird; even the image of the lawn jockey at the gate of eternity has so much deeper meaning and history, how, despite their racist appearance, were used by escaping slaves as guides towards safety, red ribbons tied to their outstretched arms meant keep going while green meant it was safe.
When asked to choose a hill
To die on, we wanted to kill
The bird. To reconcile our pain
We made the stars into a bear.
Myth made all the difference.
In order to find these rich and meaningful treasures hidden within “Quartet”, however, requires time. Readers often think of a poem as an hors d'oeuvre or amuse bouche, something easily consumed and enjoyed, and not itself the meal. Quick and to the point, that’s the American way, and it’s the American way because we’re all very busy. Working, mostly. One job, or many, our time is devoted to surviving, and abstraction we’ve concretized in money, itself a representation of time itself. I mean, there’s an equation. Time is money. And if Accessibility takes effort, and effort takes time, and time is money, then anything inaccessible usually isn’t worth it because, frankly, they’re too busy surviving. Working. And that’s a shame because this poem has taught me things. The myth of Juno/Zeus and the creation of Ursa Major, otherwise known as the Big Dipper; how the Big Dipper, also known as the Drinking Gourd, was used by escaping slaves to guide them north. I learned about the complicated history of lawn jockeys and found out what “yellow-boned” and “quadroon” meant and how that connects me to a history, to my history, how it pulls me through time and connects me to our shared American history. It’s important that we take the time to put in the effort to access art, to access poetry. Perhaps we’re working in the wrong direction, working backwards from value towards importance, moving backwards from money to time. But time moves forward and, maybe, so should we, starting first with what’s important and spending our time on that because it’s valuable. It’s time for a change.