Professor Butter Beard’s “Hercules”

“Marble statue of a bearded Hercules,” Roman, Early Imperial, Flavian, c. 69-98 CE, carved marble, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City.

“Take this Hercules – this hero!  Hero, indeed!  What was he but a large muscular creature of low intelligence and criminal tendencies!” – Dame Agatha Christie, English writer

My dear Agatha – why so snarky? Have you not yet fallen under the bearded god’s charismatic spell?  I certainly have!  Every time I visit the Metropolitan (and I mean every time!), there are four rituals I must perform before I can concentrate on a new artistic journey. First, I make a deep solemn bow to the glorious beauty of Pharoah Hatshepsut. Second, I check on Saint Firmin to make sure his head is still securely in his grasp. Next, I absorb the glare of the museum guards as I move closer and closer to catch a new dance of the shadows on Van Gogh’s “Irises.” And, finally, with confident and purposeful strides, I make my way through the Greek and Roman Galleries to stand before the seductive grandeur of Hercules.  

Hercules (known in Greek as Heracles or Herakles) remains one of the best-known heroes in Greek and Roman mythology. Oh Agatha, his life was not easy. Try to imagine his complicated family tree. According to legend, his father was Zeus, ruler of all the gods on Mount Olympus and all the mortals on earth, and his mother was Alcmene, the human granddaughter of the hero Perseus (the beheader of Medusa). The sweet child had enemies even before he was born. When Zeus’ wife Hera heard that her husband’s mistress was pregnant and had given birth to a healthy male, she flew into a jealous rage, sending two vicious snakes to smother him in his crib.  Luckily, our hero was born with god-like strength and was able to strangle the snakes before they strangled him.

But Hera, like Snow White’s Evil Queen, was darkly driven and kept up her nasty tricks. When her stepson was a young adult, she wove a sinister spell on him that drove him temporarily insane and caused him to murder his beloved wife and their two children. Guilty and heartbroken, Hercules tracked down his stepbrother Apollo, the god of truth and healing, and begged to be punished for what he had done. The sympathetic Apollo understood that Hercules’ crime had not been his fault—Hera’s vengeful actions were no secret—but still he insisted that the young man make amends by performing twelve “heroic labors” for the Mycenaen king Eurystheus. Hercules triumphantly accomplished every one of the labors, trusting Apollo’s promise that upon completion of these acts, he would be absolved of his guilt and achieve a god’s immortality.

Not wasting any time, Eurystheus first sent Hercules to the hills of Nemea to kill a ferocious lion that was terrorizing the people of the region. According to some wickedly twisted legends, Zeus had fathered this magical beast as well. Hercules trapped the snarling lion in its cave, strangled it with his bare hands, and for the rest of his life, he wore the animal’s pelt as his own impenetrable armor. Aggie, how do you think your beloved Monsieur Poirot would fare when then being charged with slaying the nine-headed Lernaean Hydra, capturing the Erymanthian Boar and the Creten Bull, or obtaining the girdle of Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons? I somehow doubt Hercule could even contemplate bringing back the broomstick of the wicked witch without developing a serious mustache twitch!

The Metropolitan’s over-life-sized statue of Hercules and another facing this one across the gallery courtyard are believed to have been made as a pair to decorate one of the great spaces in a large public bath. According to the Metropolitan scholars, although much restored (his arms were once replaced and then removed again), his heroic stance and attributes are essentially correct and are variations on long-established statue types that probably originated in images of the Greek hero Herakles dating to the fourth century BCE.  It is also believed they were both part of the large collection of ancient sculpture assembled in Rome at the beginning of the seventeenth century by a wealthy Genoese banker, the Marchese Vincenzo Giustiniani.

The cool white marble which was meticulously sculpted to reveal the grandeur of Hercules inspired this White Chocolate and Toasted Almond Angel Food Cake. The golden specks of the chocolate and almonds dance like the shadows on the marble as you circle the statue to fully take in the magnificence of his being. My dear Ms. Christie, yes, I am besotted. Maybe you should consider taking another look. My bet is that he will win your soul with one heroic wink.

“Marble statue of a bearded Hercules,” Roman, Early Imperial, Flavian, c. 69-98 CE, carved marble, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City.

White Chocolate and Toasted Almond Angel Food Cake

One 10” Angel Food Cake

Ingredients:

  • 1 ½ cups white sugar (1/2 cup and 1 cup in two stages)

  • 1 cup all-purpose flour

  • ½ tsp salt

  • ½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

  • 1 ½ cups egg whites at room temperature (about one dozen eggs)

  • 1 tsp cream of tartar

  • 2 tsp warm water

  • 2 tsp vanilla paste

  • 1 cup sliced almonds, toasted and cooled

  • 1 cup white chocolate chips, coarsely chopped and dusted with 2 tsp all-purpose flour

1)     Bring your egg whites to room temperature.

2)     Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

3)     Wash your angel food cake pan to make sure there is no dust or grease. Dry completely.

4)     Toast the almond slices in a non-stick pan over a medium heat until golden and aromatic. Set aside to cool completely.

5)     In a food processor, coarsely chop (a few pulses) the white chocolate chips and toss them with 2 tsp all-purpose flour. Set aside.

6)     Whisk together the one cup all-purpose flour, ½ cup white sugar, salt and freshly grated nutmeg. Set aside.

7)     In a standing mixer, beat the egg whites until foamy.  Dissolve the cream of tartar in the water and add to the foamy egg whites.  Beat on medium high speed until soft peaks form.  With the mixer going, add the vanilla and then gradually add the 1 cup remaining sugar until glossy and stiff peaks stay in form when you lift the balloon whisk from the mixer.

8)     Gently fold in the almonds and white chocolate chips with a spatula, ¼ cup at a time, doing your best not to deflate the meringue.

9)     Gently transfer the batter into the angel food cake pan and bake for 30-35 minutes until top is nicely browned and cake feels firm to the touch.

10)  Remove the pan from the oven and turn upside down until the cake is completely cool.  This could take one hour.

11)  Cut the cake from the pan and let air dry 30 minutes before serving.  Serve with fresh berries or sliced stone fruit.

Cake Out of Oven.jpg
Cake in Sun.jpg
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Professor Butter Beard’s “The Hay Wain”

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Professor Butter Beard’s “Entrance To the Grand Canal”