Thedays are melting away quickly. I can see them go from the window near my desk,the light drip drip dripping down the skyline. This begins at 5, at 4, now at3:30 I have to flip on my lamp. I love the approach of winter. Suddenly the airsmells of sweet, sudden cold, of braised beef, of apple cider spiked with rum.But I miss the light. Especially now that I’m working in an office, bound to adesk. At least I sit by a window, where I can watch the light fade against thepattering, frozen rain.
This week isThanksgiving. And then it’s my birthday. I turn 29. The punctuation mark to mytwenties. The end of a beginning. The beginning of an end. I don’t think I’llmiss this decade. It’s been exciting and full. But I’m tired. I’d like to sinkinto my life in a way that doesn’t constantly hurt. Hurt? No. I suppose I likethe movement. I like the excitement and the growth. I guess what I want issomeone to invent a new brand of makeup, one that will prevent the handful ofpeople who come to hear me talk about my book from asking if I’m fourteen.You’re not? Oh, well then are you married? No? You should eat more. You’re skin and bones.
Writing a book—amemoir—has been an empowering experience. A vulnerable one, too. Two weeks agoI was in Detroit for a book fair, and then New York City to speak at the PublicLibrary. Last week I was in St. Louis for another book fair, and I did an eventwith the New England Culinary Guild. I love talking about my book, about thesense of smell. These events fill me with energy, make me thankful to be alive.They also make me think about my life in a very direct manner. Why are you not a chef? I’m often asked.The questions that follow range from small (Whatdid you eat for breakfast?) to large (Howdid you fall in love?). There are questions about my loss of scent (Whydid you recover?), many of them coming from those with something at stake (How can I recover, too?). We oftencircle around to the questions I likewise ask myself: Will you write another book? Whatwill it be about? The answers are there, but not always as cut and dry asI’d like. Isn’t that always the case?
I’ve been behind onthe blog. I know and I’m sorry. I meant to be better. I was doing so well for awhile. But we all know how life gets in the way. How work gets in the way. Howsometimes maintaining sanity and health alongside a crazy schedule can beimpossible. How sometimes I wonder how I’m maintaining anything at all.
But here is somethinggreat. A pear cake. From Marcella Hazan.
I found this recipein The Essential New York Times Cookbook. I made the cake a number of weeks agofor the first time. I brought it to a party where it really didn’t belong.Standing next to elaborate chocolate mousse tarts and finely wrought cupcakesgarnished in candied orange peel, this little cake paled, shrinking against thewall like that flower we’re always talking about, the one I embodied when I wasin high school. But, hey, this cake is good. Really good. It is that cut and dry.
Marcella’s pear cakeis simple. The batter consists of eggs, whole milk, sugar, flour, and a pinchof salt. After peeling and slicing 2 pounds of pears, you add them right to themix, and pour the batter into a pan. Before it goes in the oven, you dot thetop with some butter, which coats and sizzles and helps to provide a nicebrowned crust. Because the ingredients are so simple, the flavor of this cakereally comes from the pears. As it should.
Marcella’s Pear Cake
From Amanda Hesser’s The Essential New York Times Cookbook
Thiscake is a lovely dessert, the punctuation mark to a simple meal. It’s alsogreat for breakfast, a big wedge sliced in the lingering darkness of analmost-winter morning. I’d eat it pretty much any time, though.
½ cup breadcrumbs,fine and dry
2 large eggs
¼ cup whole milk
1 cup sugar
Pinch salt
1 ½ cups all-purposeflour
2 pounds Bosc pears,ripe
2 tablespoonsunsalted butter
Place a rack on theupper third of the oven, and then preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.Butter a 9-inch cake pan, add the bread crumbs to the pan and swirl it todistribute the crumbs evenly. Give it a little shake and turn upside down torelease the extra loose crumbs.
In a large bowl, beattogether the eggs and milk. Add the sugar and salt. Beat until well combined.Add the flour and mix well.
Peel the pears, andthen slice them in half. Remove and discard the seeds. Cut the pear halves intothin slices, and then add them to the bowl. Mix well. (The batter will be quitethick.)
Now, pour the batterinto the pan. Make sure it’s evenly spread. Dot the surface of the batter withthe butter. Bake for 45 minutes. The top will be golden brown. Cool slightlyand then remove from the pan. Serve warm or at room temperature.
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