Being in a “brown study” refers to being in a such a state of intense, sometimes melancholic, thought, that you become unaware of your surroundings. The term was first used in 1532 in a book called Dice-Play: “Lack of company will soon lead a man into a brown study.” Dickens and Alcott also used it in their respective works.
The first time I heard the term, I was working as a banquet server at a country club during the two years between college and grad school. It was summer in Virginia, the height of cicada and wedding season, and I was taking a break in the kitchen while chef was preparing to plate the second course of a 250-person reception dinner. I took a seat in the only chair in the kitchen, one of same ugly mauve-colored banquet chairs the guests were now sitting on, only theirs were draped in white satin covers and tied in neat bows the same shade of coral as the eight braidsmaids' chiffon dresses. I was thinking about the bride and groom and the disagreement--it was too polite to be called an argument--they had before the ceremony. They arrived in same Lincoln Towncar limo, smiling and beautiful, the first marriage for them both. They were one of the few couples that summer who had their ceremony at the club, which I found odd; the wedding tent overlooked the driving range and putting green, and the metallic ping of Callaway drivers connecting with golf balls cut through their vows, distracting even the officiant. I don't remember the disagreement. I just remember how civil it was--too civil. I could almost feel the weight of words left unsaid by them both hanging in the air like bunting as they turned and walked away from each other, the looks on their faces belying their decision to let it go. I had the sense that all of their disagreements progressed in this manner--politely, inconclusively, unresolved. And now I sat in the ratty banquet chair under the kitchen phone and worried for them, wondering whether they would make it, whether one day they would look back on this party that was costing them $125 a head and wish they'd spent the money on something more useful, like therapy or Botox treatments, whether two people who don't really know each other can really love each other.
Chef looked up at me from expertly ladling demi-glace onto plates of paired lambchops, their smooth, Frenched bones criss-crossed perfect X’s. “In a brown study, eh?” he asked. “What's that?” I asked back. “It means you're so engrossed in your thoughts that you forget where you are. Get off your ass, and help me sauce these.” I stood up and took the small ladle from his outstretched hand. “Brown study. I like that,” I said, spooning the rich sauce onto rows of white plates using the away-from-you motion he taught me during my first week on the job. “Blue is the new brown,” he said.
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