Estamos trabalhando na melhor maneira de passar a ideia do livro por meio de uma ilustração. Se para um romance isso é dificil, numa antologia com contos tão diferentes é quase impossível. Nossa ideia original mostrou-se pouco prática e a segunda, apesar de muito fofa, destoaria dos contos.

O lado ruim? Nosso ilustrador voltou à prancheta.

O lado bom? Vocês acabam de ganhar um belo wallpaper gastrônomico!

Mesdames e messieurs, o cardápio da Gastronomia Phantastica está finalmente no ar:

Entradas:

O grande banquete – Ana Cristina Rodrigues
O mito da fecundação – Ludimila Hashimoto

Acompanhamentos

Aos pedaços – Mariana Gouvin
Varundi – Heloisa Helena Toledo
O restaurante no fim do tempo – Charles dias

Pratos principais

Nem tudo pode ser perfeito – Maria Helena Bandeira
Gallimatar – Fábio Fernandes
O cozinheiro e sua musa – Jorge Calife

Sobremesa

A flor do subterrâneo – Ana Carolina Silveira

Sugestão de vinho

Entardecer em Palmela – Gerson Lodi Ribeiro

There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it; a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep.

The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it. “No room! No room!” they cried out when they saw Alice coming. “There’splenty of room!” said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.

The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this, but all he said was “Why is a raven like a writing-desk?”

“I’m glad they’ve begun asking riddles—I believe I can guess that,” she added aloud.

“Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?” said the March Hare.

“Exactly so,” said Alice.

“Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare went on.

“I do,” Alice hastily replied; “at least—at least I mean what I say—that’s the same thing, you know.”

“You might just as well say,” added the Dormouse, which seemed to be talking in its sleep, “that ‘I breathe when I sleep’ is the same thing as ‘I sleep when I breathe!’”

“It is the same thing with you,” said the Hatter, and he poured a little hot tea upon its nose. The Dormouse shook its head impatiently and said, without opening its eyes, “Of course, of course; just what I was going to remark myself.”

“Have you guessed the riddle yet?” the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.

“No, I give it up,” Alice replied. “What’s the answer?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter.

“Nor I,” said the March Hare.

Alice gave a weary sigh. “I think you might do something better with the time,” she said, “than wasting it in asking riddles that have no answers.”

“Take some more tea,” the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.

“I’ve had nothing yet,” Alice replied in an offended tone, “so I can’t take more.”

“You mean you can’t take less,” said the Hatter; “it’s very easy to take more than nothing.”

At this, Alice got up and walked off. The Dormouse fell asleep instantly and neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or twice; the last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the tea-pot.

“At any rate, I’ll never go there again!” said Alice, as she picked her way through the wood. “It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life!”

‘A mad tea party’, in Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll – disponível no Projeto Gutenberg

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