Crystallized intelligence favors the old

By a happy coincidence, soon after reading Mindwise and posting the episode musing on whether the decrepitude that sets in with age is less physiology than self-fulfilling prophecy, I read an article ("Starting Fresh" or, if you read it online, "Is It Really Too Late to Learn New Skills?") on lifelong learning by Margaret Talbot in the January 18, 2021 issue of The New Yorker. Talbot discusses three relatively new books, all of which I've added to my ever-expanding library wish list: Beginners: The Joy and Transformative Power of Lifelong Learning (2021) by Tom Vanderbilt; Old in Art School: A Memoir of Starting Over (2018) by Nell Painter; and Late Bloomers: The Hidden Strengths of Learning and Succeeding at Your Own Pace (2019) by Rich Karlgaard.

 

Talbot discusses the original meaning of the word "dilettante," which was one who admires an art or science (like music or psychology!) casually and for amusement, rather than professionally. It is derived from the Italian word dilettare "to delight," from the Latin delectare "to allure, delight, charm, please." How delightful! In the late 18th century, however, "dilettante" took on the more pejorative meaning of a "superficial and affected dabbler," basically a privileged person with too much time on their hands. But, Talbot says, "if you think of dilettantism as an endorsement of learning for learning’s sake—not for remuneration or career advancement but merely because it delights the mind—what’s not to love?" As someone whose first and third signature strengths are "appreciation of beauty of excellence" and "love of learning," I couldn't agree more.

 

The problem, of course, is the idea that you can't teach an old guy new tricks. It may be true, as Talbot writes, that fluid intelligence, "which encompasses the capacity to suss out novel challenges and think on one's feet, favors the young." But crystalized intelligence—"the ability to draw on one’s accumulated store of knowledge, expertise, and Fingerspitzengefühl—is often enriched by advancing age." [1] Talbot also refers to a 2015 paper ("When Does Cognitive Functioning Peak") showing that cognitive abilities rise and fall asynchronously across the lifespan. For example, while crucial Jeopardy! skills like processing speed and short-term memory for names peak in the late teens and twenty-two, respectively, vocabulary doesn't peak until fifty or even later, and "social understanding, including the ability to recognize and interpret other people’s emotions, rises at around forty and tends to remain high." Talbot concludes that it is the "gift of crystallized intelligence" that explains why "some people can bloom spectacularly when they're older," including E. Annie Proulx, who published her first novel when she was fifty-six [2] and one of my favorite novels, The Shipping News, two years after that.

For his part, Vanderbilt decided that he had time to learn some new skills while he was waiting for his young daughter to make her round of "lessons and activities" (sounds familiar). Beginners chronicles his effort to achieve competence in chess, singing, surfing, drawing, juggling, and "making" (he apparently learned to weld a wedding ring to replace the two he lost learning to surf). Most of that looks sorta doable, and I can already play chess and juggle (two balls with one hand and three balls with two hands, anyway), but what really caught my eye was singing. Who knows, maybe Cassie's right and it really isn't too late for me to learn how to play the cello?!

 

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[1] Fingerspitzengefühl is a German term, literally meaning "finger tips feeling." Wikipedia defines it as "intuitive flair or instinct," describing a "great situational awareness, and the ability to respond most appropriately and tactfully." While nothing may ever displace callipygian as my favorite word,
Fingerspitzengefühl is a pretty darn good word (even if it is German).

 

[2] Fifty-six! Good grief, I'm running out of time to publish my first book.

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When I was reading the article in Bon Appétit (“The Keepers: The Recipes We Cook Over, and Over, and Over Again”) that yielded the amazing recipe for Celery Salad with Almonds, Dates, and Parmesan, I noted a few other interesting looking things, including this very simple cherry tomato "vinaigrette." This one also had a separate article, by Amiel Stanek (“This Cherry Tomato Vinaigrette Just Makes Me Really Happy”), that gushed over the many uses for this sauce. As you can see below, I took one of his suggestions, which which was to mound scrambled eggs on toast, then spoon some of the cherry tomato vinaigrette over top. Some of the other ideas: spoon it over fresh ricotta to make a "caprese-esque" dip; top fish or grilled steak with it; and use it as a dressing for hardy bitter greens like escarole or arugula. The first time I made this, I used it to sauce half a pound of pasta, which was really good too. If you do that, you need to use a fair bit of the pasta cooking water to get everything to come together at the right consistency, so I would consider adding a little more olive oil and vinegar in step four to ensure that the vinaigrette maintains its tangy bite. Mom and I also both really liked these as a tangy salsa on tacos.

 

Step Two

Step Three

I like the smaller cherry tomatoes better, but this was all I could find the second time I made this

Cherry Tomato Vinaigrette

Adapted from Alison Roman via Bon Appétit (June 2013)

Time: 15 minutes

Other fresh herbs would be good here as well, including chopped oregano or parsley or a basil chiffonade. You can also swap out the shallot for a garlic clove if you're a big garlic fan. This works even with off-season cherry tomatoes, which are your best bet for store-bought tomatoes anyway.

1 pint cherry tomatoes (~10 to 12 ounces depending on the packaging)
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided
1 small shallot, minced
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar, more to taste
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons sliced or snipped fresh chives (see note)

    1. Cut half of the tomatoes in half.
    2. Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir in the shallot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened but not browned, 3 to 4 minutes.
    3. Stir in all of the tomatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, 4 to 6 minutes. Mash some of the whole tomatoes with a wooden spoon to thicken the sauce some if you like.
    4. Remove from the heat. Stir in the vinegar and remaining 2 tablespoon oil. Season with a good pinch of salt and several twists of pepper. Taste for salt, pepper, and/or more vinegar. Serve warm or at room temperature. Stir in the chives just before serving. The sauce will be keep in the fridge for 2 days; if you make it ahead, bring it to room temperature, then stir in the chives before serving. Makes 1½ cups.