All gourmands know it. Sometimes you are in need of a true feast. The twelve course chef's menu. With a couple of fine bottles of wine. Other times, nothing but a plate of steak frites and a carafe of vin rouge will do. There are several fine extended histories of World War One. Twelve course feasts for the true enthusiast of the period. Recently, however, I was given a one course delight on the subject.
It should be plain by now to the return reader that I am quite interested in history in general and in World War I in particular. There is such a superior body of literature surrounding the tragic events of 1914-1918, both fictional and historic, that the reading person cannot ignore the period. Add to the mix the fact that the "resolution" of the First World War set in inexorable motion the forces that lead to the Second World War and to many of today's problems in the Middle East and Central Europe, and a good volume or two on the clash should be required reading.
Sadly, the topic of the First World War is merely a footnote in most American primary educational curricula and few people really know much about it. This may not be limited to our shores. Robert McCrum noted in The Observer a few years back that the new generation finds the First World War almost as remote as The Iliad. An interested person seeking to begin learning about this vital and interesting era often finds their efforts impeded by the fact that war histories in general tend to be thick tomes overburdened with troop movement maps and tactical theorizing by armchair generals. Fine for the amateur tactician but rather heavy food for a person who has interest in, but not passion for, the history of a particular conflict. Another obstacle is the pace of modern life, which lends itself more to endless dashing about than to sitting still reading, particularly when some degree of thoughtfulness is required by the subject matter.
Arriving to solve all of these dilemmas is World War One, a slender and elegant retelling of the conflict by the noted historian Norman Stone. In 186 pages, Stone manages to provide a superbly readable short study of the war, from its prelude in the rise of great European empires and modern notions of nationalism to its epitaph which endures today across the globe. That Stone can accomplish this task in so few pages is a testament to his mastery of the subject matter.
A few appetizers are in order to whet the literary appetite. Regarding the society which immediately preceded the war, Stone states:
In 1900 the West, or, more accurately, the North-West, appeared to have all the trumps, to have discovered some end-of-history formula. It produced one technological marvel after another, and the generation of the 1850s--which accounted for most of the generals of the First World War--experienced the greatest "quantum leap" in all history, starting out with horses and carts and ending, around 1900, with telephones, aircraft, motor-cars. Other civilizations had reached a dead end, and much of the world had been taken over by empires of the West.
If one finds this paragraph disturbingly familiar, one should read more about World War One. Immediately. Stone describes most key events of the war in a fashion certain to satisfy the interest of the historically curious, and even more certain to whet the appetite of the reader for more in-depth knowledge of this tragic time.
The book ends with reference to Hitler's Mein Kampf and its encapsulation of the fears expressed by Lloyd George years before...
...in twenty years' time the Germans would say what Carthage had said about the First Punic War, namely that they had made this mistake and that mistake, and by better preparation and organization they would be able to bring about victory next time.
The cessation of hostility in 1918 lasted all of twenty-one years.
Some tend to consider short histories no more than shallow treatments which at best ill-inform and at worst misinform the consumer. In reply to this notion, I refer the reader, again, to cookery. A sauce which is diminished in volume after application of heat is not called a minimization but, rather, a reduction. Rendered more potent and rich by the effort. So too, World War One is a master's reduction of a heart breaking and complex time which leaves the consumer hungering for more knowledge. The stimulative effect of this fine book upon the intellectual appetite is perhaps its greatest facet.
Each evening, John's dream of Florida grew stronger. Helen worried about his enthusiastic descriptions of the photos in "the Florida book" as they shared dessert on Saturday dates. It all seemed so...distant...and vaguely dangerous. Inconsistent with certain topics that were, each Saturday night, seeming to congeal into a map for a lovely and seamless future for them both.
...the one Dad brought back from Flanders at the end of the war. Inside it were the linen suit, some grooming items and the book of Florida pictures. John buttoned his jacket and walked through the snow to the train station. He booked a coach ticket to Florida. One way.
He felt invigorated by the scent of the sea and the damp heat, even in February. He wondered what the fellows at the Commerce Bank would think of him now. Wearing his linen suit. Standing in Florida! 
John met a salesman in the diner at the motel, a veteran of his father's battalion at Belleau Wood, who agreed to give him a ride south. They ambled down the state, past orange groves as far as the eye could see...
John spent a few weeks squeezing oranges and sleeping in the back room of a road-side juice stand. Quite a different atmosphere from that of the Commerce Bank, but John found that he took to the work rather well. Plus, he had all the juice he could drink. He had never experienced anything as refreshing as freshly squeezed orange juice. The sunshine and citrus helped John's normally pale complexion turn ruddy and strong. After a bit, he bid goodbye to his job at the juice stand and headed even farther south, across the longest, flattest, bridge he had ever seen. The "Oversea Highway"...
And with a few lighting adjustments, demure and svelte at night. On my last visit, I had a marvelous tartine of squab with mushroom duxelle and truffle sauce. Squab which almost made me sob. With pleasure. Perfect service, perfect food, great wine list. I could eat at this restaurant every meal, every day. The ultimate hotel dining experience. In three seasons of the Florida year, you can enjoy dinner on the outside patio, gazing at the twinkling lights and majestic palms around the center courtyard. Here is a view looking toward the dining patio...
You may want to forego returning to your room and just sit outside all night, sipping a very good Calvados and awaiting sunrise. And the extraordinary breakfast menu at Boulud. I tried an open air sojourn one night, although I cannot say the sitting/napping outside part was entirely voluntary. 
This man is not me. Needless to say. I understand him not wanting to leave the room. I meant to tell you, the bath robes at this place are really fine. And the beds are very inviting. I digress. Some of the rooms are very large, some are quite small... 
This was not my bed. I am not sure this bed would fit into the room I ask for when I arrive. No matter. I do not require massive lodgings. What I do require is coziness and a restorative atmosphere. My favorite room at the B.C. has that in the extreme. Along with a twenty bottle wine cellar. A spacious shower and huge tub. I am not much for taking baths [although I do heartily endorse bathing], but a glass of chilled 
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