The Ups and Downs of a Critical Eye, the Lost Legacy of Lady Eaton, and an Addictive Recipe

“It’s not that I’m critical,” I protested when accused in an airport waiting lounge of being exactly that by Peter. “It’s just that I’m very good at spotting what’s wrong with things.” This received a howl, immediately followed by Peter reaching for his phone so he could add that line to his list of “Laura-isms.” This is a list that began early on in our marriage when he questioned me about sipping on a glass of wine from a bottle that I’d declared undrinkable the night before. I dryly replied, “It’s the kind of wine that improves enormously when everything else has run out.” Well, if my unassuming quips keep him amused, so much the better, I suppose.

Anyway, back to my defense when it comes to the apparently unusual talent I possess for noticing flaws. It’s not with everything, but when it comes to things that I know something about or am sensitive to, such as the ambiance of a room, the comfort or lack thereof inherent in the design of a coffee cup, the quality of a handshake, the writing of a recipe, and so on, I can’t help noticing when there’s a call (sometimes a desperate cry) for improvement. Why is that such a bad trait? For anything to get fixed in this world, someone has first to recognize what’s broken. Then either they have to fix it themselves, or they must make the problem known (by shouting from the rooftops, say) so that someone more qualified than themselves can take on the task for the greater good.

At the airport, under my scrutiny was the restaurant area we had to sit in as we waited to be called through security. It was so dark, depressing, and cheaply furnished it would have made the lowest-grade teacher’s lounge look like Versailles. To add insult to injury, no direction you looked in spared your eyeballs a confrontation with a giant television screen full of bad news, and the so-called music that scratched and honkey-tonked out of the tinny speakers was full-on vibrational vulgarity without let-up. Isn’t modern-day travel degrading enough not to have to drag it right down to dungeon level? Why not make a little effort to lift the experience up a bit for everyone? Why not, in that particular situation, adjust the atmosphere to soothe nerves with a bit of beauty and serenity, rather than leave everyone rattled and downcast.

I couldn’t help wondering what the late Lady Eaton might have done with the joint had she got her hands on it.