Language Food for Thought

As I watch the various channels based on food preparation, a word is often used to describe an exotic, tasty dessert, usually very rich and loaded with calories. Many chefs on TV use the adjective "decadent" as a positive term to describe their concoctions.

However, the many dictionaries on my bookshelves define these tantalizing dishes as "decadent," to mean "decaying" or "deteriorating." Decadence to me has always meant "the actor process of falling into an inferior condition or state," as does the "Random House Dictionary of the English Language (Unabridged)" define the term.

As these professional cooks taste their delicacies, they smile and verbalize "yum." True, I have produced some awful desserts over my years of food flubbing that could be described as decadent, and some main courses.

Once I served lemon meringue pie as soup—decadent. Another disaster occurred when two shoo-fly pies erupted into volcanic flows of molasses, although on a smaller scale than the deadly disaster that occurred when an American molasses factory storage tank exploded and swept several citizens to a sticky demise. I viewed this on a decades-old TV show called "When Havoc Struck." My shoo-flies were deemed decadent.

On another occasion my crock pot prepared meatballs cooked in homemade sauce were decadent. I knew immediately when an eight-year-old boy said to his dad, "These meatballs are yucky," while I was still dishing up the dinner to others. They smacked of decay.

Recently, during a weekend of dogsitting I spent most of the time "on the run," not chasing the doggy, after consuming a pre-prepared sandwich advertised as being fresh by an Upper Saucon Township market. I deduced that I'd make a lousy king, since my back ached after hours on the throne. The sandwich was definitely decadent, or in a state of deterioration.

How can a chocolate mousse be declared decadent with a smile? I learned the hard way that one must use a baking pan of sufficient size for a Thanksgiving turkey in order to avoid setting the oven on fire by flowing grease and fowl juices—definitely decadent, no eliciting smiles, just laughter.

Can someone suggest how the adjective has changed meaning so drastically? After all, the Roman Empire has been described as falling due to decadence. My kitchen has descended into a state of decadence regularly, but I still try to experiment. A fire extinguisher stands at the ready, and there's always handy takeout in Hellertown.

In closing, I won't event mention the necessary 911 call to Upper Saucon Township firefighters to put out a box of cornflakes set afire by my storing it in the lower oven drawer of my Center Valley apartment. There was no other damage except to my Pompeiian cornflakes—decadent.

My first job as a teen was for Beckett's Catering Service of Hellertown, but don't blame them. Also, I won't mention my quickly disappearing eyebrows the first time I tried to flambe.

Suggestion: Eat at Zinn's.

Hellertown native Lee Weidner is an author and local historian. A retired teacher, he is the author of several books about local history, including "Images of America: Hellertown" and "Saucon Secrets, Volumes 1 and 2."