Well, hello, hello, and Happy New Year to all!
Here is to hoping that things will get better on the world front, at least. As far as the domestic front, it hasn't been the smoothest entry into 2024, as you will soon find out.
Which will explain the gap - another one, I know - in my writing schedule.
To be fair, I wasn’t really planning on posting during the two-week Christmas school break that many of us enjoyed - or did not enjoy, as these things have been known to happen with the holidays, and children at home, and the weather, and you all know what I mean.
But last week was a definite miss. Call it the January revenge, maybe, after the truly restful escape we enjoyed after the holiday stress magic. Just when I thought I was recovering from my Christmas hangover, BANG, Fate decided to strike, through the channel of my unsuspecting teenage son.
It all started with an Uber ride, the day we flew back to Paris. My son had been complaining of a mild sore throat but seemed to be doing fine otherwise. We were supposed to see a play in the evening, and he seemed happy about it – which he is usually NOT. So, I was naïve enough to order an Uber to get us there on time, and before we knew it, the boy was vomiting in the car, barely two seconds after telling us he wasn’t feeling well. Little did we know that our driver was at the end of his shift, and evidently at the end of his rope. To our dismay, he erupted in anger, abruptly stopping the car and yelling at us to get out. It all happened so quickly; we were only a few hundred feet from our house. Under the misguided and fearful impression that we could calm him down, we frantically started cleaning what we could with a box of tissues, while I kept trying to reassure him that his car would be okay. But he cursed, and slammed doors, and was overall extremely angry. I told my distressed twelve-year old daughter to run home and tell her dad what was going on. Which turned out not to be the best idea, as he soon showed up on the scene, and joined what had become, at that point, a shouting match between in the middle of the street. A protective mother can only remain calm for so long, after all.
Needless to say, we missed our show, and all walked home extremely upset. And, it turns out, with Covid, as my son’s home test revealed the next day. As I joked to him, instead of the Malade Imaginaire we were supposed to see, we had a real sick boy on our hands, in a wild happening of sorts.
And there we were, back in Paris with a bang. And, for me, a child at home when I was counting the days until I would have the house to myself – you moms out there all know that story, don’t you. He was there for two days, and as I was getting ready to finally release him into the wild the next day, we received a late-afternoon email announcing that the school building would be closed due to a power outage. You would NOT have wanted to talk to me that night. And did I mention that on that same day, the school also posted the results of three pre-vacation math and science tests that my son simply bombed? And that I was myself having Covid symptoms despite testing negative? In case you were wondering, this is why I did not feel like I had anything warm and fuzzy to share on this site. And in many ways, I still don’t. But this week, I did somehow manage to drag myself in front of this screen, which is already something. My feeling is that we need to start really slowly, and humbly, with this new year of ours. At least, I know I do.
So, no grand resolutions for me this year, which might be just as well given that I rarely, if ever, keep up with any of them. We are going to take it one day at a time and do a little domestic and mental clean-up every day, to put us on track after this messy and rather unpleasant start. And we are going to try our best at not giving up hope, despite somewhat discouraging messages coming from all directions. We are going to be accepting, and calm, and focused, and care for our children when they are struggling, rather than losing sleep and totally freaking out about their college prospects. Or, should I say in a more polite company, be anxious about something we cannot control.
If anything, last week reminded me that my son, who always comes home from school telling us he had a good day, would be justified in having a hard time, after moving from the U.S. and needing to adjust to a demanding school system. It is hard for me to accept. But it is also showing me that without realising it, I always just expected him to just do well in all circumstances and not cause any trouble. He was always happy in school until we moved to France, and his academic success was an unquestioned assumption. But last year, he struggled socially, as could be expected for a 14-year-old boy showing up at a new school in a foreign country. My heart was broken but I kept telling myself that it would take time, that he would eventually make good friends. Which he did this year, finding himself going out every Saturday night. But now he seems to be having a hard time academically, and I cannot say how guilty I feel over this, thinking that we took him out of a comfortable environment to throw him into this new, uncharted territory. And a school which turns out to value performance over anything else and does not leave much time or space for other pursuits, including the simple pursuit of being a teenager with a life of his own.
I assumed that my son would adapt, and in many ways, he did, without ever complaining. But suddenly it seems like we have hit a bump in the road, and I don’t think I have ever been as anxious about any of my children before. I know that there is a lesson here, and that the world is telling me to slow down, and listen, and be here for my boy. And that is what I am doing, no matter how hard it is, and how tempted I can be to just keep pushing him more, trying to meet the school's seemingly impossible standards. Still, January has been hard on us so far, and I confess to not even enjoying cooking at all these days. In fact, barely two weeks after we came back from the holidays, dinner feels like an impossible chore, and for the past few days, it has failed to provide the solace and stability that it usually gives me. But as I was pondering what to write about when all I really want to do is curl up in a ball on my bed, I remembered that last year, a simple orange gave me hope on a dreary winter morning. And I now think I might have a dessert plan for the Sunday brunch we are hosting with friends we recently met.
It just popped into my mind, this blood orange loaf cake, by Eye Swoon, which we enjoyed very much a couple of years ago, in New York. Just getting me out to the farmer’s market early on Sunday morning, will do me a world of good. Citrus, cake, bourbon, a dash of bitters. A cocktail turned into a cake, basically. I am hopeful that it will have the power to defeat the worst January on record.
So, here, watch Athena seamlessly putting together this beauty. She has infinitely more glamour, and a much fancier kitchen than I do:
Athena’s version is a Bundt cake, but I turned it into a loaf when I made it, because I didn’t have a Bundt pan – which I proceeded to order AFTER I made the recipe, and, of course, never used once after that. This is, I’m afraid, the story with most of my non-essential kitchen gear.
BLOOD ORANGE BUNDT/LOAF CAKE WITH ORANGE BITTERS GLAZE
BY ATHENA CALDERONE, COOK BEAUTIFUL
INGREDIENTS
Serves 8-10
FOR THE CAKE
Butter, for greasing the pan
3 or 4 blood oranges
1⁄4 cup fresh lemon juice
2 cups / 250 grams all-purpose flour, plus extra for the pan
1⁄2 cup / 60 grams almond meal
1 1⁄2 teaspoons baking powder
1⁄2 teaspoon baking soda
1 1⁄2 teaspoons kosher salt
5 large eggs
1 3⁄4 cups / 250 grams granulated sugar
3⁄4 cup / 175 ml extra-virgin olive oil
1⁄2 cup / 125 grams full-fat plain Greek yogurt
2 tablespoons Bourbon
FOR THE GLAZE
1 1⁄2 cups / 170 grams confectioners’ sugar
3 teaspoons fresh blood orange juice2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon bourbon6 drops orange bitters
1 teaspoon blood orange zest
METHOD
Make the cake: Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat the oven to 350°F. Generously grease a 12-cup Bundt pan (or two loaf pans) with butter and dust it with flour, tapping out the excess. Set aside.
Using a Microplane, grate the zest of 3 of the oranges. Squeeze 1⁄2 cup juice, using the fourth orange if necessary. Combine the orange juice with the lemon juice.
In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, almond meal, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until just combined.
In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the eggs on medium-high speed until they’re frothy and evenly colored. Slowly add the granulated sugar, beating until the mixture is thick and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Reduce the mixer speed to low and alternately add the flour mixture and oil, beginning and ending with the flour mixture and mixing just until each addition is incorporated. Scrape down the sides of the bowl if necessary. With the mixer still on low speed, add the yogurt, bourbon, orange and lemon juices, and orange zest, mixing just until everything is incorporated.
Pour the batter into the prepared pan, leaving about 1 inch between the batter and the top of the pan. Bake the cake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until a knife or cake tester inserted into the center comes out with a few crumbs still clinging to it. Transfer the cake to a wire rack and allow it to cool in the pan for 15 minutes before unmolding and cooling it completely on the rack.
Make the glaze: Over a medium bowl, sift the confectioners’ sugar through a sieve to remove any lumps. Whisk in the orange and lemon juices, bourbon, and bitters. Stir in the zest. If the glaze is too runny, you can add more sugar; if it’s too thick, add more juice.
When the cake has cooled completely and is still sitting on the rack, drizzle it generously with the glaze and then transfer it to a serving platter.
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