The Last Temptation of Christ by Nikos Kazantzakis

In honor of Easter Sunday, I decided to reacquaint myself with The Last Temptation of Christ, a book that has a very soft spot in my heart. This is the book and movie for which I was kicked out of Catholic school back in 9th grade. I didn’t get kicked out because I was a troublemaker or kissing boys behind the school or anything sinful that would warrant getting the boot from good old St. Michael’s High School. I got kicked out for asking questions. Let me explain.

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The movie came out in the mid-1980s and caused a huge ruckus in the Catholic Church, the reason being is that the movie – and the book it was based on – showed a scene of Jesus having sex with Mary Magdalene. I will give you the context of that scene later in this blog, but oh the horror! My mom fell in with the ridiculous mob mentality of many parents back then and refused to allow my sister and I to see it. So of course, what does forbidding something from someone make them want to do? It makes them want to have it, of course.

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Anyway, I spent the weekend with my Dad during all this brouhaha, and we went to rent movies at Blockbuster one evening. I saw a copy of The Last Temptation of Christ – VHS old school, no less! – and asked if I could rent it. Being that he was a teacher, he was never big on restricting knowledge and so he said yes, I could rent it but I had to watch it with him and he’d answer any questions I might have. Oh goody goody gumdrops, was my reaction. So I watched it and was enthralled with the vision of the human Jesus that I had never previously experienced. (Also, how freakin’ cool is it that David Bowie played Pontius Pilate!!!!)

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I was raised Catholic, obviously, and the Jesus I learned about always knew he was the Son of God and what his ultimate fate would be, or at least, this was how it was presented to me. So to watch this movie, which showed Jesus as a man with doubts and fears and desires who was having visions of God and seeing and hearing things and thinking that he was going insane was a HUGE revelation to me. It’s hard to even put into words just how much of a revelation it was……literally life-changing because from that point on, my entire concept of Jesus and God and religion shifted and I wanted to know more.

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So Monday rolled around and I happily trotted back to St. Mike’s with the scales having fallen from my eyes, as it were, and ended my school day with religion class. I sat down in Brother Ben’s class, we did the lesson and I naively raised my hand to ask a question that had occurred to me after having watched the film. My dad, bless his movie censor heart, had fallen asleep during the film so I couldn’t ask him. Anyway, I can’t remember the exact question, but it infuriated Brother Ben, who was this large, red-faced, beefy Irishman of a priest and his face turned the color of a tomato when I asked my question. He said, “Why are you asking that kind of question?!” in a very peeved tone of voice. I responded “Well, I saw this movie this weekend and it made me start thinking about this so I wanted to ask you.” He responded quite angrily, “What movie did you see?” and dummy me, not seeing the warning signs at the time, said innocently, “The Last Temptation of Christ.” Oh my Lord – pardon the pun – it was like throwing a match into a keg of gasoline. He exploded, shouting at me and questioning why my parents would allow me to watch such filth and that I had no business asking those kinds of questions, etc. etc. A few weeks later, at the end of the school year, my mom got a letter from the principal of St. Mike’s suggesting I would be happier in a “non-parochial environment.” I still laugh about it now.

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Anyway, the book tells the story of Jesus and his path to realizing he is the Son of God, his ministry, his temptations, and his crucifixion. But then from there, while he is slowly and agonizingly dying on the cross, it veers into a lengthy, intense vision of what his life would have been like if he had been different, lived as a a normal man. In this vision, he lives, marries the woman he loves Mary Magdalene (hence his vision of them making love and the furor that created in the Church because what a horrible thing for Jesus to imagine his destiny differently), has children and lives an otherwise unremarkable, normal, happy life. In  other words, the sex scene is all in his mind as part of his vision of giving up being the Son of God. If you were dying slowly and horrifically, wouldn’t you want to escape mentally and imagine you were somewhere else with someone you loved? I would, JC! You’re not alone!

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The son of Mary felt calmed. He sat down on the root of the ancient olive tree and began to eat. How tasty this bread was, how refreshing the water, how sweet the two olives which the old lady gave him to accompany his bread. They had slender pits and were as fat and fleshy as apples! He chewed tranquilly and ate, feeling that his body and soul had joined and become one now, that they were receiving the bread, olives and water with one mouth, rejoicing, the both of them, and being nourished.

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Isn’t that the most beautiful description of eating? I just love it. It inspired me to make olive bread, because bread is the most Biblical of foods and olives were common in Jesus’ time, and then of course, you have the whole Mount of Olives reference and so on. This is the method I used, based on a long-remembered recipe from a Mediterranean cookbook I used to have. Best part? No kneading involved.

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INGREDIENTS
2 cups lukewarm water
1 package (2 and 1/4 teaspoons) active dry yeast
2 teaspoons sea salt
1 cups all purpose flour
1 cup mixed green and black olives
1 tablespoon garlic powder
Olive oil
1 teaspoon each of dried parsley, dried basil and dried thyme

METHOD
In a large mixing bowl, combine water and yeast.

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Add one cup of flour and the sea salt, and stir until well mixed.

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Add the sliced olives and the garlic powder. Mix again.

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One cup at a time, stir in the remaining flour. You’ll notice the mixture getting thicker and shaggier with each cupful. This is normal.

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Cover with plastic wrap and a tea towel and set somewhere warm to rise for an hour.

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Add a tablespoon of olive oil in an 8-inch cast iron skillet and coat the bottom and sides of the skillet, then transfer the now-risen and very sticky dough to the oiled skillet. You may need to shape it a bit to make it the round size you want.

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Cover with the tea towel and let it proof another half-hour, and heat the oven to 425F.

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Drizzle about a tablespoon of olive oil on top of the dough, sprinkle with the dried herbs and maybe a bit of sea salt.

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Bake for 30-35 minutes, until the top crust is nice and brown. Isn’t it beautiful? I was so proud!

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Remove from the oven and let cool a few minutes before removing the bread from the skillet. Let cool a bit more, and serve with either butter or very good extra-virgin olive oil and a glass of red wine. Because it’s Easter. You gotta have the bread and wine to be saved.

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The Gashlycrumb Tinies by Edward Gorey

Edward Gorey is known worldwide for his illustrations for the Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, by T.E. Eliot, for his stage decorations and costume design of Dracula several years back, and of course for the opening introduction to PBS’s long-running TV series Mystery, as well as countless others. I think his work is instantly recognizable, even if you don’t know his name.

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Gorey is probably one of my favorite authors and illustrators in the world. If you ever read his twisted take on the alphabet, namely, The Gashleycrumb Tinies, you will either be horrified or die laughing.

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The book basically gives a short vignette for every letter of the alphabet, involving a child who comes to a gruesome death. I’m sorry, but I am one of those who finds this book so hilariously funny. I don’t know what it is, the combination of his dry, witty tone or the illustrations of these kids getting eaten by bears, falling down stairs, hacked to pieces with an ax, or what have you. My personal favorite, and not just because it has a food reference, is poor Ernest. As you can see, he is done for.

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Yes, I am a twisted person too. But seriously, if you have any kind of a sense of humor, you will laugh as hard as I did when reading this.

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Peaches are gorgeously in season right now, with the stands at the farmers markets overflowing with their juicy red and gold fuzz. It seemed like an appropriate time to make a skillet peach crisp, as I’ve been wanting to try baking in my cast iron skillet for awhile now. So, this is the method that worked for me, based on the Epicurious recipe but with, as always, a few flavoring twists of my own.

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INGREDIENTS
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 stick chilled unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1 cup crushed pecans
1 tablespoons butter at room temperature
8 ripe peaches, cut into medium-thick slices
1/2 cup bourbon (my twist!)
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup regular sugar
Zest of half a lemon
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon almond extract

METHOD
For the crumble topping:

Whisk together the flour, cinnamon, brown sugar and salt in your most awesome red Kitchen Aid.

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Gradually mix in the butter a few cubes at a time, using the pastry hook attachment, until you get a clumpy dough. You want those buttery chunks. Refrigerate for at least an hour.

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Slice the peaches and let them marinate in the bourbon for about 30 minutes.

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Preheat the oven to 350F. While it’s heating, toast the pecans in a dry skillet until they darken and you can smell the toasty scent. Set aside to cool.

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Butter the bottom and sides of a 10″ cast iron skillet.

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Add the toasted pecans, the two sugars, the lemon juice and zest, and the spices, to the alcoholic peaches, and stir together. Leave for 10 minutes, then pour into the buttered skillet.

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Add the crumble mixture over the top of the peaches.

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Bake for up to 30 minutes, checking to make sure it doesn’t burn. When the peach juices start bubbling out around the edges and you can smell the fruity scent, it will be done.

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Remove from oven and allow to cool for about 10-15 minutes. Serve with vanilla ice cream. But please, I beg of you, don’t eat too quickly and choke on the peach, like poor, sad, doomed Ernest. (snicker)

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