More Praise in Poetry

It is true. Poetry is difficult to read. I read 100 Great Poems of the Twentieth Century edited by Mark Strand, but in reality I read at least 150 great poems because I reread no less than half of them while getting through the book. This is not because I kept losing my place – I didn’t do that, or if I did it was to lose place ahead, not behind.

I did, however, begin to think that I could write a poem. A really good one, too. Not just because these great poems were so striking, but also because many of them were so short, specific, and concentrated on death, sorrow, harrowing circumstances, and lost loves. It’s really just my cup of tea.

I was determined while reading to find something funny but the best I can admit was once or twice moving from one poem to the next without actually realizing that I had! It would be comical if it wasn’t one war and death scene so closely aligned to the subsequent death and grief poem that they were indistinguishable to me, having never seen war or smelled death myself. I’m not certain that another person, having said experiences would have necessarily transitioned any better, but that may be pride. Therefore I call for more praise, more joy, more laughter, but not to blot out the true. Just to acknowledge that even disappointment can only exist because of hope.

And yet, a poem of deep sorrow and pain may be the better solution. A sustained novel-length work of misery would be overbearing and the need to express it better to be taken than repressed. My introduction to Anthony Hecht, Czeslaw Milosz, Fernando Pessoa, Pablo Neruda, Tadeusz Rozewicz, William Carlos Williams, and heaps of others lets me know where to turn when the chips fall poorly. Now, let’s shake this out with some Shel Silverstein!

On se régale!

On my birthday I hosted an aperitif party, which, being wine and hors d’oeuvres, could seem light. However, the French style foods that I chose were as full of flavor, goodness, and depth as many meals I’ve made. When all was said and done, the whole wheat puff pastry with caramelized onions I made, as well as the aioli and the pickled carrots appeared the winners of high praise.

I used the organic flour from my CSA for the puff, which I should have tempered with all purpose, yet, since it puffed and was tasty I will notch it up to birthday extravagance and feel successful. Meanwhile I cooked down thinly sliced onions with butter and wine for the topping. In this respect there was no particular recipe, just procedure of slow going.

My aioli was made with garlic from my CSA, and I probably put in far more than necessary, and certainly made more than the crowd could get through, but it was bright and strong, by far the sharpest I’ve tasted. The recipe I used was slightly French and vague, so I just put my desired ingredients in the blender and let it go!

The pickled carrots were based from a memory of a recipe I followed about 3 or 4 years ago. On top of that, I didn’t actually have the ingredients I remembered needing, so I added anise seeds. Somehow I have a lot of anise seeds in my cupboard and a dearth of recipes requiring said seeds. I chose to just add what wasn’t asked for and ended up with a great dish. When my guests then asked me for the recipe I had to shrug, because I really don’t know exactly. I brought some cider vinegar, sugar, salt, crushed garlic, and anise seeds to a boil, then poured that over julienned carrots and let it sit in the fridge for ten days. Pretty delicious!! Preciously simple.

And, to finish the evening, I didn’t bake my own cake. The cake my sister made for me was absolutely phenomenal; she’ll rank in any kitchen of mine.

Dinnertime

I read Anne Tyler’s Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant for two reasons. One, my roommate owns it, so I didn’t even have to go to the library before beginning, and two, Nick Hornby said that after reading her novel he decided he wanted to be an author. I already would like to be an author, but, since I really didn’t care for much that I read in October, I thought that duo would really be the thing.

It was. Although I found Anne Tyler’s characters to be just as desperate as Joyce Carol Oates’, their lives somehow seem less bleak. There’s none of the ‘side-splitting’ laughter that I get from Nick Hornby, but I feel that at least the family had half a shot. I really enjoyed the length of time that the characters experienced, realizing that nothing sorts itself out too quickly, but despite your perspective you can live through a fair amount of any situation. There’s just enough lift that even so late in the game, the opportunity to correct one’s vision is possible.

Incidentally, anything I can think to say about this book would just give it away. I keep finding myself doing a mental outline of the course of events. Well, reading will get that across. So, what am I left to determine? The plot is really swift-moving. The characters are full and true to themselves, whether or not true to anyone else. This is really profound, that even the periphery characters don’t budge from what they say and believe and do. There are no wishy-washy add-ons to make a point. Even the most insecure of the group stick to their insecurity or find a new way, have a turning point. Every single person is distinct and discovers a path. It’s a beautiful and engrossing story.

Pounds of Ginger Cake

Recently I made a friendly gesture and called France for a friend of my roommate. That friendly gesture was returned with a gift certificate, which enabled me to buy the cookbook Gingerbread: Timeless Recipes for Cakes, Cookies, Desserts, Ice Cream, and Candy. This is exciting karma!

A couple weeks ago I had a great success with a variation on a Cook’s Illustrated pound cake, from an old-time country recipe where you don’t preheat the oven. Browsing through my new cookbook, and seeing a pound cake, I thought that sounded like a great idea. It took only a few minutes to put together and came from the oven looking beautiful. Considering that I baked it in a bundt pan, if it didn’t need to be turned I’d have left it as it was, so pretty. Therefore, I’m confident that the loaf cake would have been equally stunning.

The only real regret I have is that I am out of most things in my kitchen, including powdered sugar, and couldn’t sneak a glaze together to top this off. Having also run out of brown sugar meant that the cake already had ¾ cup less sugar than called for, which I didn’t substitute with anything like stevia or more granulated. So, for a really delicious and spicy cake, it’s not very sweet, and I could say it lacks quite a few calories. But, as I hadn’t run out of butter and only had egg yolks instead of whole eggs, I guess I’m not fooled.

Bittersweet

Matt McAllester does write a very bittersweet memoir about his efforts at understanding and grieving his mother. Of course I had no idea that was what it was about based on the title Bittersweet: Lessons from my Mother’s Kitchen. I thought it would be true stories, which they were, about maybe growing up with a cook for a parent, which it somewhat was, and how that shapes the young man’s life, which it most certainly did. However, I didn’t realize that his mother would be mentally ill, then die, causing him unforeseen grief, and his attempt at reconciliation or redemption or some sort of closure would be to learn to cook.

His desire to follow his mother's advice, to cook without opening the cookbook, is one that I fully endorse. Discovering the taste of what’s in the cupboards and fridge can be the best! Taking that to a life-lesson is also pretty decent, asking oneself, ‘can I make something good with what’s here and without step-by-step instructions,’ as anybody by now realizes is how it is done, anyhow.

McAllester’s family stories were wonderful to read. No, not because there were so many sad ones, but because there were so many beautiful ones. His writing style is easy and even though he is British, his writing felt American. Previously a war correspondent for an American newspaper for about 10 years and receiving a Pulitzer Prize in journalism for his coverage makes his memoir at once believable and surprising. I don’t envision journalists and memoirists to be drawing on entirely the same skill set, so his writing has considerable breadth as well as depth.

Still, the surprise to find out so much about his mother and himself, which were often terribly unpleasant discoveries, made me wistful to learn more about his sister and father. His innumerable coincidences in learning about his family history, and how they overlap with his contemporary existence were fine, but they seemed to be given too much value for my palate. Regretfully McAllester was unable to find a deeper sense of meaning in his life and finishes by deciding that time will bring healing and that every joy and disappointment is to be accepted. Those are beautiful, mature lessons, but not much to sink your teeth into after the long journey through life. I hope my kitchen provides more.

Sweet and Delicate

I feel remiss in not having discussed pumpkins and squash last month, so I’m starting out on that note right now! Why? Because the squash is on. And even though we’re all super acculturated to view pumpkin as the basis for pie, the actual super sweet squash of choice is Delacato. Oh, so delicate, oh, so sweet. I could pretend I’m a poet for this one.

But I’m not a poet, so I’ll just let you know that my pies are already wonderfully delicious. I cook the squash – at least any eating squash – make a pretty standard custard, and add only spices I really like, and just enough to lightly enhance, rather than to overwhelm the delicate sweet squash. In my opinion that means a hint of ginger and nutmeg.

Crust is just as important. For a tart blueberry, cherry, or even apple pie I love the dense butter crust my mom makes. A custard tart sometimes needs a lighter touch, and even though I stick with butter, something flakier and crisper makes the custard more palatable. By contrasting textures, always important, one gives the heavy squash a shot at levity for dessert.

Or, on days when I just can't be bothered? Let's make pumpkin butter! Puree cooked squash and blend it with a pastry cream for something extremely rich and delightful. Mm, I can’t wait!