#eric werner

"Le recours aux forêts s’identifie à un certain travail sur soi : travail consistant à rentrer en soi-même, pour s’affermir aussi bien mentalement que moralement. On renoue ainsi avec sa propre substance innée, en ce qu’elle a à la fois d’intemporel et d’impérissable. C’est une démarche d’ordre spirituel, à vrai dire religieuse. Les deux sens, propre et métaphorique, du recours aux forêts sont bien sûr inséparables. L’un ne va pas sans l’autre. Pour avoir recours aux forêts (au sens propre), il faut au préalable s’être préparé à le faire : matériellement mais aussi mentalement. C’est le sens métaphorique. Il y a donc un ordre de succession dans le recours aux forêts. D’abord le sens métaphorique (le travail sur soi), puis le sens propre (la marche en forêt)."

"Quand Jünger parle de l’automatisme, on pense évidemment au Gestell heideggérien, mot rendu en français par "dispositif". Ce dispositif nous tient sous sa dépendance, c’est lui en réalité qui nous fait "trembler". Sauf que Jünger retourne le problème. La culture et le caractère, dit-il, portent préjudice à l’automatisme. Ils lui portent préjudice, et donc, logiquement, celui-ci cherche à s’en débarrasser. Pour cela, il fait appel au Zeitgeist, à l’"esprit de notre époque". L’"esprit de notre époque" est l’automatisme lui-même, en tant qu’il cherche à se défendre contre ce qui lui porte préjudice : à savoir la culture et le caractère (je reprends les mots du texte). Jünger le compare à un "robuste entrepreneur de démolition". C’est très exactement aussi ce qui définit la cancel culture : culture, littéralement, de la liquidation. La cancel culture est elle aussi un "robuste entrepreneur de démolition". Mais cela, on le savait déjà."

Werner is arguing that the system of interpretation—the reader and his schema—is inextricable, in questions of natural selection, from the interpreted system (here, the genome).

But we can extend this thinking to memetics more broadly. It is not that a memetic "form" or "text" survives on its own but that it survives in tandem with humans who instantiate and interpret it, and that when (as is inevitable) those interpreting schemas morph with cultural and historical change, this drift will have effects on the fitness and viability of the meme-text. Moreover, the changes in interpretation structure across generations of interpreters (readers, i.e. human beings) is itself partially heritable.

For NYE, i took my third trip to tulum in 3 years (this is getting ridiculous), and discovered that powdery beaches, swaying palms, freshwater cave diving, beachside yoga and picturesque Mayan ruins perched on cliffs above the turquoise Caribbean aren’t the only reasons to visit anymore.  This secluded little eco-chic resort town, a mere 80 miles south of Cancun (but about as different as can be) along the Mexican Riviera, had morphed into a veritable Nolita-in-the-jungle – socialites, yoga-toned beach bods, artisanal cocktails, designer caftans – was the nytimes style section too far behind? (update: no).

good or bad, i'll skip the editorializing, but i WILL say that with this new wave of hipster chic comes establishments like hartwood, a rustic little spot tucked into the jungle side across from the beach where i had one of the best meals of my life.  opened about a year ago by nyc expats Eric Werner and Mya Henry, alums of Vinegar Hill House, Peasant, and the Soho Grand, the menu changes daily and really showcases locally available ingredients. 

i hate fetishizing food (psyche, this is what i live for, exhibit #1 this blog), but try to imagine: pulpo (octopus) - each little suction cup on its giant tentacles perfectly charred and crisp - giving way to a dense and creamy flesh, nestled in creamy stewed white beans and roasted potatoes; a dynamite grilled angus skirt draped over the best grilled sweet potato and onion i've ever had (talk about elevating humble ingredients); whole grilled snapper, finished in the oven to puff-pastry-like crisp, served in a cast-iron skillet alongside roast radishes and steamed chaya (Mexican "spinach", which I discovered is the same as rau muong, a staple of Vietnamese cuisine - cool!), and homemade corn ice cream (tastes better than it sounds) with mexican honey.  Three entrées, dessert, and four cocktails set us back only $100.  The food alone could hold its own anywhere in the States, but the entire experience was what made this unforgettable:

we of course asked for the table in front of the beautifully designed open kitchen, where during the meal we watched Eric at work in his t-shirt and shorts, grilling and plating and even delivering dishes (i love this guy); 

wood stove blazing;

pebbles beneath our feet;

palm fronds swaying above;

a tiny space lit only by candles and hundreds of little stars –

for a brief moment we could understand what must have motivated Eric and Mya to say, you know what?  What if we moved here and opened a restaurant?  The only difference is, they actually did it, and I’m back at work today in a skyrise in midtown.  Someday, someday.

Hartwood tops my list of food recommendations for Tulum.  More to come.

1. Hartwood

Let’s put it this way: my companion sat there and applauded after our meal.  We weren't the only groupies – diners got up to snap pictures of the chef at work, and when we showed up at 6:50 at night hoping to get a table, we were turned away (the place is open from 6-9 nightly but doesn’t take resos).  Get there before it opens, and try the grilled pulpo, grilled steak, whole fresh fish, and pineapple habanero margarita.  On the jungle side of Tulum Beach Rd @ 7.6 km mark. All photos by me unless noted.

(photo by the selby for nytimes T Magazine)