《渺小一生》:“今年會(huì)做什么主菜？”

　 It was his opinion (shared by Julia) that Harold had a tendency to make Thanksgiving more complicated than it needed to be. Every year since he’d first been invited to Harold and Julia’s for the holiday, Harold promised him—usually in early November, when he was still full of enthusiasm for the project—that this year he was going to blow his mind by upending the lamest of American culinary traditions. Harold always began with big ambitions: their first Thanksgiving together, nine years ago, when he was in his second year of law school, Harold had announced he was going to make duck à l’orange, with kumquats standing in for the oranges.

他認(rèn)為哈羅德總有把感恩節(jié)搞得太過復(fù)雜的傾向（朱麗婭也贊同）。自從他第一次受邀到他們家過感恩節(jié)起，每年哈羅德都跟他保證（通常在十一月初，此時(shí)他還對(duì)計(jì)劃充滿熱忱），今年他要徹底翻轉(zhuǎn)美國最遜的烹飪傳統(tǒng)，讓他大吃一驚。哈羅德一開始總是野心十足：九年前他們共度的第一個(gè)感恩節(jié)，也就是他讀法學(xué)院的第二年時(shí)，哈羅德宣布他要做法式橙汁煎鴨，不過要用金桔來取代柳橙。

　 But when he arrived at Harold’s house with the walnut cake he’d baked the night before, Julia was standing alone in the doorway to greet him. “Don’t mention the duck,” she whispered as she kissed him hello. In the kitchen, a harassed-looking Harold was lifting a large turkey out of the oven.

但是他帶著前一晚做的核桃蛋糕抵達(dá)哈羅德家時(shí)，只有朱麗婭來門口迎接他。“別提鴨子的事?！彼吐曊f，然后親吻他的臉頰來打招呼。廚房里，愁眉苦臉的哈羅德正把一只大火雞從烤箱里拿出來。

　 “Don’t say a word,” Harold warned him.

“一個(gè)字都不準(zhǔn)說?！惫_德警告他。

　 “What would I say?” he asked.

“說什么？”他問。

　 This year, Harold asked how he felt about trout. “Trout stuffed with other stuff,” he added.

今年，哈羅德問他覺得鱒魚怎么樣?！霸邝V魚里塞其他餡料?！彼a(bǔ)充。

　 “I like trout,” he’d answered, cautiously. “But you know, Harold, I actually like turkey.” They had a variation on this conversation every year, with Harold proposing various animals and proteins—steamed black-footed Chinese chicken, filet mignon, tofu with wood ear fungus, smoked whitefish salad on homemade rye—as turkey improvements.

“我喜歡鱒魚?！彼⌒囊硪淼鼗卮?，“但是你知道，哈羅德，我其實(shí)喜歡火雞的?！彼麄兠磕甑膶?duì)話都大同小異，哈羅德會(huì)提議把各種肉類和蛋白質(zhì)主菜作為火雞的改良菜色，有蒸烏骨雞、菲力牛排、豆腐木耳、熏白肉魚自制黑麥沙拉。

　 “No one likes turkey, Jude,” Harold said, impatiently. “I know what you’re doing. Don’t insult me by pretending you do because you don’t think I’m actually capable of making anything else. We’re having trout, and that’s it. Also, can you make that cake you made last year? I think it’d go well with this wine I got. Just send me a list of what you need me to get.”

“裘德，沒人喜歡火雞啦?！惫_德不耐煩地說，“我知道你想干嗎。別假裝你喜歡火雞，因?yàn)槟悴徽J(rèn)為我有本事做別的，那是侮辱我。我們要吃鱒魚，就這樣。另外，你可以做去年做的那種蛋糕嗎？我覺得跟我準(zhǔn)備的這種葡萄酒很搭。把你需要的材料開清單給我就是了?！?

　 The perplexing thing, he always thought, was that in general, Harold wasn’t that interested in food (or wine). In fact, he had terrible taste, and was often taking him to restaurants that were overpriced yet mediocre, where Harold would happily devour dull plates of blackened meat and unimaginative sides of gloppy pasta. He and Julia (who also had little interest in food) discussed Harold’s strange fixation every year: Harold had numerous obsessions, some of them inexplicable, but this one seemed particularly so, and more so for its endurance.

他總想，最令人不解的是，大體上哈羅德對(duì)食物（或葡萄酒）不是那么有興趣。他的品位其實(shí)很糟糕，常常帶他去價(jià)錢很貴的二流餐廳，還開開心心地大吃燒黑的肉，吞下缺乏想象力、黏糊糊的意大利面。他和朱麗婭（同樣對(duì)吃的興趣不大）討論過哈羅德每年感恩節(jié)這種奇怪的執(zhí)迷：哈羅德迷過的東西很多，有些難以理解，但感恩節(jié)大餐尤其如此，能持續(xù)這么久更是詭異。

　 Willem thought that Harold’s Thanksgiving quest had begun partly as shtick, but over the years, it had morphed into something more serious, and now he was truly unable to stop himself, even as he knew he’d never succeed.

威廉覺得哈羅德會(huì)展開感恩節(jié)挑戰(zhàn)，一開始有點(diǎn)為了耍寶，但經(jīng)過這么多年，他變得更加認(rèn)真，他現(xiàn)在真的停不下來了，即使知道自己從來不會(huì)成功。

　 “But you know,” Willem said, “it’s really all about you.”

“可是裘德，你知道，”威廉曾說，“這都是為了你?！?

　 “What do you mean?” he’d asked.

“什么意思？”他問。

　 “It’s a performance for you,” Willem had said. “It’s his way of telling you he cares about you enough to try to impress you, without actually saying he cares about you.”

“他在表演給你看。”威廉說，“他用他的方式告訴你他很關(guān)心你，才會(huì)試著讓你刮目相看，只是沒有說出來而已?！?

　 He’d dismissed this right away: “I don’t think so, Willem.” But sometimes, he pretended to himself that Willem might be right, feeling silly and a little pathetic because of how happy the thought made him.

他立刻摒棄這說法：“威廉，我不認(rèn)為是這樣?！庇袝r(shí)，他會(huì)假設(shè)威廉說的可能有道理。這個(gè)想法讓他樂壞了，覺得自己又傻氣又有點(diǎn)可悲。

　 Willem was the only one coming to Thanksgiving this year: by the time he and JB had reconciled, JB had already made plans to go to his aunts’ with Malcolm; when he’d tried to cancel, they had apparently been so irked that he’d decided not to antagonize them further.

今年感恩節(jié)，威廉是唯一陪他去過節(jié)的朋友。因?yàn)榈鹊剿徒鼙群秃脮r(shí)，杰比已經(jīng)說好要帶馬爾科姆去他阿姨家；他試著取消，但兩個(gè)阿姨非常不高興，他只得放棄反抗。

　 “What’s it going to be this year?” asked Willem. They were taking the train up on Wednesday, the night before Thanksgiving. “Elk? Venison? Turtle?”

“今年會(huì)做什么主菜？”威廉問。感恩節(jié)前夕的星期三，他們搭上北上的火車，“駝鹿肉？鹿肉？龜肉？”

　 “Trout,” he said.

“鱒魚?！彼f。

　 “Trout!” Willem replied. “Well, trout’s easy. We may actually end up with trout this year.”

“鱒魚！”威廉回答，“唔，鱒魚很簡單。今年我們說不定真能吃到鱒魚?！?

　 “He said he was going to stuff it with something, though.”

“不過他說他打算塞一些餡料?！?

　 “Oh. I take it back.”

“那收回剛剛講的話?！?

　 There were eight of them at dinner: Harold and Julia, Laurence and Gillian, Julia’s friend James and his boyfriend Carey, and he and Willem.

晚餐席上總共有八個(gè)人：哈羅德和朱麗婭夫婦、勞倫斯和吉莉安夫婦、朱麗婭的朋友詹姆斯和他的男友凱里，以及他和威廉。