Professor Butter Beard and Michelangelo’s “Moses”
“The human animal differs from the lesser primates in his passion for lists.” – H. Allen Smith
I have “grown accustomed to my lists….” It seems as I mature, more and more lists appear in more and more spaces. I find crumpled ingredient and shopping lists in my pant pockets every time I do laundry. The coffee table is cluttered with horror movie lists and “new books to read” lists. My nightstand overflows with lists of dreamt random flavor combinations. And my desk just wouldn’t be “my desk” without a coffee-stained “list for the day” with a yellow highlighter at the ready.
If I trace this compulsion back to its emergence, the path leads to my undergrad days. A wise mentor advised me to make a list of all the courses I needed to accomplish to achieve my degree. At the end of each semester, I would reach for the green highlighter and glide across the name of each completed course, watching the map grow more and more green. Little encouraging boosts of accomplishment and pride.
When I need to catch my breath, I imagine the “lists” of others. Did Vincent make a list as he scrambled to pack an artist bag before heading out into the sunlit fields? Did Henry make a list when shopping for “wife number four?” Did Noah make a list? How about Tolkien when creating his Hobbits? But for the last three days, I have been imagining the list created by Michelangelo Buonarroti when his mind began to orchestrate forty marble sculptures for the Tomb of Pope Julius II.
Michelangelo arrived in Rome early in 1505, about the time of his thirtieth birthday, at the request (some say demand) of Julius II, expressly to work on the massive tomb for the still-much-alive Pope. The payment was to be 10,000 ducats, to be paid over a period of five years. In April of that same year, the Pope approved one of the drawings for a free-standing monument (most probably the drawing within the Metropolitan Museum’s collection) to be constructed center stage in St. Peter’s Basilica.
This immense marble edifice was to include over forty marble statues and several bronze scenes in low relief. As originally conceived, the great tomb was to portray Julius as the magnificent patron of learning and the seven liberal arts – grammar, rhetoric, dialectic, arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and music – as well as painting, sculpture and architecture. On the cornice would stand four larger-than-life inspirational figures, each forever connected to Julius. And of the four, the most imposing and recognizable would be the prophet Moses – both a powerful prince and guide for the Israelites.
Historians believe Michelangelo may have begun the Moses as early as 1506, but the master continued to modify his masterpiece, finishing in about 1544, probably after changing the figure’s facial expression to suit the statue’s new location (more on that in a bit). Moses’s eyes do not focus on a single point, such as the high altar, but are set with a slight squint, as if looking for a divine sign. His unusually thick, and quite inspiring, magnificent beard falls in curling tendrils, pulled dramatically both by his turned head and the exquisite fingers of his right hand.
Giorgio Vasari in the “Life of Michelangelo” wrote: “Michelangelo finished the Moses in marble, a statue of five braccia, unequaled by any modern or ancient work. Seated in a serious attitude, he rests with one arm on the tablets, and with the other holds his long glossy beard, the hairs, so difficult to render in sculpture, being so soft and downy that it seems as if the iron chisel must have become a brush.”
Ascanio Condivi, Michelangelo’s biographer, describes the figure as “with toga and sandals and bare arms and everything else.” He underscores that “the whole nude form is apparent under the beautiful draperies which cover him and (that) the robe does not detract from the beauty of the body.”
But what remains an often-referenced mystery to this day are the “horns” – newly sprouted and pointing in different directions like the antennae of a snail. The prophet is described in Exodus 34:35 in the Vulgate Bible as follows: “And they saw that the face of Moses when he came (from the encounter with God) out was horned.” Some modern scholars contend that medieval theologians believed that Jerome had intended to express a glorification of Moses' face, by his use of the Latin word for “horned,” which can also be translated as “radiant,” or “emitting rays of light.” Julius II himself had no issues with the master’s addition of the prominent antennae, since he also allowed Raphael to depict Moses with rays of light in his “Disputa” fresco in the pope’s private library.
Michelangelo wrote in a letter that “that this was his most lifelike creation.” Legend has it that upon its completion he struck the right knee commanding, “now speak!” as he felt that life was the only thing left inside the marble. There is a scar on the knee thought to be the mark of Michelangelo's hammer.
The tomb, originally commissioned in 1505, was not completed until 1545 on a much reduced (and highly contested) scale. Instead of being highly featured within St. Peter's Basilica, the structure was instead placed in the church of San Pietro in Vincoli on the Esquiline in Rome after the pope's death. This church was patronized by the Della Rovere family from which Julius came, and he had been titular cardinal there. Julius, however, is buried next to his uncle Sixtus IV in St. Peter's Basilica, so the final structure does not actually function as a final tomb. Yet, in his 1914 essay entitled “The Moses of Michelangelo,” Sigmund Freud describes the master’s interpretation of the prophet prince as the “permanent guardian of the Pope and his tomb.”
All this talk of “prophet princes with horns” inspired me to create my own version of baked horns with butter, sugar and a bit of flour. Madeleines are traditionally timid treats to be served along afternoon tea, but my latest “horny” version packs a powerful two-fist punch with toasted cornmeal and fresh summer corn kernels, fresh basil from my garden, the warmth of chili powder and “rays of light” from the zest and juice of limes.
As I compiled my list of ingredients for the recipe, I couldn’t help giggling at a quote from the actress Sandra Bullock: “I’m controlling, and I want everything orderly, and I need lists. My mind goes a mile a minute and I’m difficult on every single level.” Oh, Sandra, I see nothing wrong with an addiction to lists. Why not consider them a “positive passion for completeness?”
Fresh Corn Madeleines with Basil and Lime
32 Madeleines – using two Madeleine baking trays
Madeleines:
13 Tbsp unsalted butter – plus 3 Tbsp more to prep the madeleine trays
2 Tbsp honey
½ cup granulated sugar
¼ cup julienned fresh basil leaves
Zest of one lime (save the juice for the glaze)
4 large eggs
4 Tbsp coarse cornmeal, toasted in a cast iron pan and cooled
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp fine sea salt
½ tsp chili powder
1 cup fresh corn kernels
Glaze:
The juice of the lime and enough boiling water to make ½ cup
3 ½ cups confectioner’s sugar
1 tsp vanilla paste
1) Place the 13 Tbsp of butter and 2 Tbsp of honey in a small saucepan over low heat until the butter has melted. Stir to combine, remove from heat and let cool to room temperature.
2) In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, chili powder and salt. Toast the cornmeal in a cast iron pan, shaking frequently. Whisk the toasted cornmeal into the dry mixture and set the bowl at the ready.
3) Place the sugar, julienned basil leaves and lime zest in a food processor and process until aromatic and combined. Add the eggs and process until combined (about 20-30 seconds) Add the flour mixture and pulse a few times to combine. Pour in the cooled butter/honey and pulse again to combine. Pour the batter into a bowl and fold in the corn kernels. Cover with plastic wrap and let rest in the refrigerator for one hour.
4) Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Melt the remaining 3 Tbsp of butter and use to brush the madeleines trays. Chill the buttered trays while the oven heats.
5) Portion the batter into the individual madeleine wells – 3/4 full. Bake one tray at a time for roughly 10 minutes until the “humps” are just solid. Remove from the oven and let sit 3 minutes before turning the cakes out onto a cooling rack.
6) For the glaze, stir together the boiling water and lemon juice. Pour over the confectioner’s sugar and whisk until smooth and glossy. Whisk in the vanilla paste. Dip all the shell sides of the madeleines into the glaze. Let the glazed madeleines dry on the wire rack.
