Reminiscence It’s hard to make a pastry possessing a well-balanced complexity, harder to make one as a simple delight, harder still to make a universal one that pleases everybody. Galette des Rois cheerfully makes all three, and an ultimate pleasure that worth 1000 calorie. It is called Kings’ Cake outside Francophobic countries, kind of puffy pastry stuffed with a special almond cream named frangipane. The origin of Galette des Rois relates to Biblical story of the three wise men (magi) visiting baby Jesus, on the twelfth night after Christmas. During ancient Rome, the celebration was on the day of Saturn, where takes place a feast about inversion of roles: a selected slave becomes the King of the day, and bestowed with the right to realize all his wishes. The tradition evolved with a more entertaining fashion upon the table of Louis XIV, who had invented various recreations with his court, and enjoyed so much that he would like to have it again the next day. The observance of Galette des Rois implies not only a feast, but also an exceptional occasion that serves as a jolly deviation from one’s daily roles. Britain has never embraced Galette des Rois into its culture, as it is such an eccentric European country---they do not share the territory of the continent nor the currency. Curiously enough, there’s a quite similar English version pastry made with almond cream, which we can still found today in The Original Maid of
Honor Shop in London. According to the legend, it dates back to Tudor Dynasty, made solely for Henri VIII and his household because the egoist king confiscated the recipe and demanded it be kept secret in a locked iron box at Richmond Palace. The historical setting of Tudor time provides enormously affluent resources for any lectures on religion, diplomacy, power and Machiavellianism, but just no stage for any romantic affaires. On the throne, there’s a King married 6 times and killed 2 of his wives, the chance is no better than a Queen who married never. Now you can understand the desperation faced all the filmmakers or TV producers who are shooting stories about this époque and their attempt of coloring the tale of Catherine Howard as a classic love tragedy. Catherine is the fifth wife of Henry VIII, a 17-year-old provincial aristocrat issue married 49-year-old king, and condemned to death for committing adultery with his husband’s favorite courtier. The emotional scenes in several TV emissions, such as Catherine proclaims upon her execution: “I die a queen, but I would rather die the wife of Culpeper” are lack of credibility, since her affaire with Thomas Culpeper is no more passionate than a desperate housewife fable. The gilded glamour of royal marriage endured not long, the pleasure brought by precious jewelries faded even quicker especially when the only recreation of the obese husband is the sport of procreation. She simply needed some distractions, and she found one. However, it’s still a great tragedy to picture, not as an affectionate mishap, but a sad story about a young girl that was taken away from her family, employed as an opulent vehicle
equipped with lavish features, mercilessly killed before she could develop sufficient intelligence to understand the game designed for smarter people. She may be a bit superficial, have made some mistakes, like young of all age, the only difference is that she could not be given the second chance, and the punishment cost her life. Nonetheless, this is merely sympathetic deduction as the historical recite devoid her of any individual touch, leaving a painless story not very heavy on plot. Straightforward as a Galette des Rois: the presentation is plain, the taste is honest, and the interpretation is personal. The frangipane remains the most playful part of the enterprise. The natural savor of Almond brings in a pleasant bittersweet twist, tempered by the fat content. When this flavor is distilled and enhanced, it becomes an Amaretto1. And when Amaretto is mixed with equal scotch in an old fashion glass, it becomes the Godfather. It’s a cocktail shows only ambiguous link to the film directed by Coppola, although they both reveal the same kind of bittersweet tonality, that opens up a dulcet atmosphere, softly evolves in the time, finally leaves off a lingering aftertaste. Al Pacino played Michael as the youngest son of the head of mafia. Liberal and sharp, Michael attempted to distant from crime business of his family, but still could not help involving in the murder of corrupted police and drug traffickers. During his fleeting in Sicily, he fell in love with a local girl and got married. Tragedy came, as his wife was soon butchered in a 1 A kind of Italian liquor made from Almond.
conspiracy against him. Returning in New York, he took over the power as the Godfather, slain his rivals, eliminated traitors and led the family to an unprecedented prosperity. Through out the movie, the flashbacks of Michael shrewdly weaved with the nostalgia sounds track “softly speaking love�, unfold to us those intimate moments where he is weak, alone, lamenting his lost; weddings exuberated with joy and gaiety; and also light-hearted social occasions---balls, parties. We learned the life of a man, not a mobster; whose passion, fear, anger, love is not so different from ours. This is a crime film, a gangster film, a film of organized violence that is veiled with an overall heart-warming tinge. It reveals what happens to everyone, just in different levels: one is forced into a role against his nature, he may success or fail, but he has to put on a mask everyday until one day, his face is forgotten. I am so fond of those scenes where, beneath the mask of Godfather, we encounter a young man, his name is Michael, he has a gun, but he also has a heart. Each year has a January, and each January we have some alike or not quite alike Galette des Rois, sometimes we have the bean and become the King of the day, sometimes not, but we all have fun, or an ambiance that is fun. What constitutes the utmost appealing of Galette des Rois, corresponds to that of the soundtrack: it is a personal souvenir that evokes the threads of personal memories, rekindles those crushed passion, lost love,
bubbling instants, and unaffected feelings from an age of innocence.