“Emotions would be half starved if there were no candlelight.”
—Desperate Remedies, Thomas Hardy
#EveningsWithPeter
A new version of Wuthering Heights is fast upon us in time for Valentine’s Day. I hear the movie is ‘loosely-based’ on Emily Brontë’s novel, focusing rather more on the love affair between Cathy and Heathcliff as adults, as depicted by its stars Margot Robbie and Jacob Elordi.
I’ll see it of course, but in the meantime, I’d like to bring up a little-discussed aspect of Miss Brontë’s romances—namely, her love affair with books! In Chapter 17 of Wuthering Heights, she writes via the character of Mr. Lockwood:
“No books!” I exclaimed. “How do you contrive to live here
without them? If I may take the liberty to inquire—Though provided with a large
library, I’m frequently very dull at the Grange—take my books away, and I
should be desperate!”
Yes, where would we be without books, without love? Desperate!
I love that Wuthering Heights exists in the world because Emily Brontë dared to imagine it. This post is a love letter to her, then, flung across the moors of which she dreamed long ago. But I will always keep this gentle, final paragraph from Wuthering Heights close to my heart:
“I lingered round them, under that benign sky; watched the
moths fluttering among the heath, and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind
breathing through the grass; and wondered how any one could ever imagine
unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.”
Enjoy this remarkably simple chocolate raspberry clafoutis, mostly done in a blender, and meant to inspire romance in every heart! (The heart-shaped cocotte from Le Creuset may be found here.)
Chocolate Raspberry ClafoutisP.S. I recently ordered this gorgeously painted, gilt-edged deluxe edition of Wuthering Heights from Harper Muse! Other titles include The Secret Garden, The Return of Sherlock Holmes, and The Great Gatsby.
I have kept datebooks since 1988, daily jotting down where I’ve been, who I was with, and what dishes I made, along with a list of books I’ve read that particular year. Naturally, this can open a flood gate of memories...recently “fact-checking” something from 1997, I came across an entry that included Chicken Financiere. I was reminded that my friend Armando had come from Caracas for the week to celebrate my 30th birthday (it was also a reunion of sorts) and I’d wanted to make a home-cooked meal to welcome him.
The grocery landscape in Manhattan was quite different back then (before Fresh Direct, Whole Foods, Wegman’s, and the rest) and often entailed foraging through several markets and perhaps a specialty shop to find all the necessary ingredients. It’s funny to think how I must have dragged Armando halfway across town to find Castelvetrano olives and chicken livers for my Financiere.
I had met my handsome Armando and his best friend one delicious summer evening while walking through Times Square in 1992. They were visiting and I had just moved to town. They stopped me in the street, asking if I knew of a decent bar nearby. Of course, I did. One bar turned into several others and by the end of the wonderful evening, we wrote our home addresses down (remember that?) with a promise to keep in touch.
Armando and I still do keep in touch (it was his birthday a few weeks ago), but alas, he and his friend do not. I later learned they had a big fight (over me!) that night we all met in Times Square and parted ways, never to speak again. I was sorry to hear the news at the time, but after all these years...I delight in the idea that I inspired such a heated rivalry.
Do enjoy!
Chicken Financiere
I nearly went mad when a friend mentioned her Bee Sting Cake over dinner the other night. Talk of the German cake (bienenstich - bee sting, get it?) stuffed with vanilla pudding cream and topped with honey buttery almond goo sounded so staggeringly delicious I had to try and make it myself. Since a blizzard was upon us and I wasn’t going anywhere, I shut off my phone, put on these Bach fugues and set to work. Without further preamble, let’s begin!
Bee Sting Cake is a stunner for sure, and not terribly difficult to achieve. I think the biggest challenge was trying to slice the thin cake evenly in half. You definitely want a good 10” serrated knife and patience. If you have problems cutting the cake evenly, remember the bottom layer will be covered with filling and the top is camouflaged by all the honey buttery almond goo. I managed to keep the cake intact, but if any of it falls apart in the process, just cut and paste, and your guests will be little the wiser—too busy ooh-ing and aah-ing with their eyes closed to notice anyway!
Organization was key, at least for me. I think it’s a good idea to put out your bowls, pans, and measured ingredients ahead of time (maybe keep the milk and heavy cream in the fridge until needed), so you’re not rushing wild to find that darn palette knife, that roll of parchment somewhere, etc.
Place the items you’ll need in three separate groups for the three stages of the recipe: the making of the cake, the topping, and the filling. There is some downtime between the stages, so if you’re feeling reckless you can sort through your cookware and ingredients then.
My comments below are in italics. And note the little bee ornament I perched on top of a slice!
While I was in New Hampshire over the holidays I unearthed my very first cookbook, liberating it after so many years from the dank (and as I’ve long suspected, haunted) cellar in my parents’ house.
Easy to Make Good to Eat (1976) by Martha Olson Condit, available exlusively through my first grade Scholastic Book Club, offered a bunch of interactive recipes intended to get children and their folks involved with cooking.
I figure at least a few of you have wee ones and may sometimes find yourselves wracking your brains for ways to entertain them. Over the years, I’ve offered some kid-friendly suggestions here, including recipes for hot dog octopuses, sloppy joes with blackeyed peas, and of course, how to eat jellybeans for breakfast. For the worst thing I ever made when I was a kid, click here.
And now, a peek into Easy to Make Good to Eat! Apart from shakes and open-face sandwiches listed in the cookbook, I totally remember making these Mini Pizzas (and my first fondant as well, but we needn’t go into that here). So, I recently whipped up a couple pizzas wrought from English muffins, ketchup, and a few Kraft Singles lurking in the fridge (they never really expire).
You know what? Still delicious!
And a bonus for the adults—these Mini Pizzas absolutely slay late-nite munchies.
Do enjoy and oh yes, whatever you do any time you set a table, by all means make it pretty!
I always keep the seasons in mind when choosing my next read (The Enchanted April in spring, Jaws over July 4th—that sort of thing) and what is better paired with a bleak winter than a Russian novel? A friend had been urging me to read Dostoevsky’s The Idiot and after pushing Doctor Zhivago aside (I could only withstand about 50 pages), I dug in—and what a wild ride it was. Often feeling like fever dream, the novel is deliberately obscure, leaving us wondering at the truth, much like our hero (the good-hearted, purported “idiot”), Prince Lev Nikolayevich Myshkin. Having devoured The Brothers Karamazov and Crime and Punishment, I’m definitely Team Dostoevsky. Sorry, Tolstoy.
The characters do manage to eat well though, and this section certainly sparked my interest:
“In addition to tea, coffee, cheese, honey, butter, the special thick pancakes that were the favourite of the general’s wife, rissoles and so on, a strong hot bouillon was even sometimes served. On the morning our narrative begins, the entire household had gathered in the dining room...”
People always say it’s a bad idea to meet your idols. I think it’s also a risky proposition to reacquaint yourself with a book you once worshipped. It’s not always a triumphant reunion.
In my 20s, I plunged into The Fountainhead with abandon and told everybody about it before subsequently tearing through the weighty Atlas Shrugged (The Fountainhead, also of considerable length, seemed really just a preface afterward!). Both books colored my world, imbuing real people, places, and events with the fiction I read in the pages. I didn’t care much for Rand’s objectivist theories though, but sure delighted in the exciting plots that reminded me of Valley of the Dolls (and that, to me, is high praise).