IT'S STILL JANUARY!!

So, Happy New Year.

I have been relieved to see  that other writers experienced a post-holiday slump, too At least two newsletters I subscribe to have written about it. However, my slump is like crossing the Sahara: thirst without finding an oasis.  Ideas to write about abound, but seat to chair has eluded me.  Chalk it up to my Christmas party, in part. 

I have loved entertaining, usually in the form of dinner parties.  I love planning a symphonic dinner menu where everything harmonizes: a light starter to whet the appetite for  the main dish, an equally complementary dessert, followed by cheese and fruit, or cheese and fruit followed by dessert, depending on whether I follow French protocol or English. I browse my cookbooks, some dating from the sixties, riffle through recipes gathered over the years. I’ll include some sample recipes below.  

I actually learned to cook with Julia Child and The Art of French Cooking, as well as Joy of Cooking. As the youngest of four girls by six years, I wasn’t always welcome in the kitchen, so not much in the way of cooking skills were passed down to me. Then in the seventies circumstances led me to England and France. In  England I found Elizabeth David’s French Provincial Cooking, in France I garnered handwritten recipes from local village women, like Tarte aux legumes from Mme Lardenois to Mme Millereux’s Pain d’Aubergine. That was  my first sojourn in France, in the Var, near the Mediterranean coast. I returned to France in the late nineties and gathered a binder full of others. A French friend gave me a little cookbook called Ma Cuisine pour Vous, by Monique Bearnes. An old friend who is a superb cook gifted me with Paula Wolfertt’s The Slow Mediterranean Kitchen, to name two. I have dozens.  

I love planning, cooking, decorating the table, and welcoming friends and family for a good meal. But the Christmas parties which I have given for 3 years (with time out for Covid) are what used to be called cocktail parties. Instead of cocktails I serve Wassail and Eggnog, spiked and unspiked, wine, and soft drinks for abstainers, plus lots of tasty snacks.  This year, I made turkey meatballs in home-made barbecue sauce and beef in another type of sauce (I winged it), plus butternut squash soup with a dash of sherry in a tureen for ladling into small cups. I made ham and cheese toasted triangles, and the usual cheese, sausage, fruit and raw vegetable platters. And cookies. And chocolates, of course, and even a flan cooked by my Mexican housekeeper. 

It was great fun in the planning.  However, I waited too late to call in a helper, so I shopped, organized, and cooked everything by myself, though my very competent 18 year old granddaughter came to my aid at the last minute. I invited people from different parts of my life, like my financial advisor, who helped me get established in North Carolina when I first arrived 8 years ago, the personal trainer I met at a gym seven years ago, my friends from a little group that meets once a month for lunch and adventures, my new art teacher, my new neighbors, a woman I met in the acting class I took for a lark, friends of my children, and of course my children, their children, and their spouses. It seems to always work; no one is left in a corner alone, nursing a drink.  It makes me happy.  

But this year I’m still recovering from a broken hip.  I thought it wouldn’t matter.  I walk without a cane, despite lingering pain sometimes, and I felt stimulated by doing something I’ve done before and I’ve liked doing.  I didn’t account for my daily nap or rest of an hour or two after lunch, the energy deficit I’ve encountered since last May, and the amount of shopping, standing, and emotional energy having a party entails. On the day of the party, I was already exhausted.  Still, seeing people I like in my home, enjoying what I have prepared for them, brought me joy.  It’s one of the things I don’t want age to keep me from doing.  

Truthfully, though, It probably isn’t just the fall that tires me out. It’s the declining energy I’ve experienced in the last few years. Though I do hope to recover some of my lost vigor, I see my older sister’s and even my younger niece’s need for rest and sleep, and know I need to accept that age will take it’s toll, like it or not.  I continue to walk my little dog Yoda. Granted, she only weighs eight pounds. And her legs are about three inches long, so it exactly a sprint. Still, I walk on average 7,000 steps a day. I work out with my friend and trainer Alex once a week, plus dutifully perform the subscribed physical therapy on a - mostly - daily basis.  I don’t smoke or drink much alcohol, and eat carefully.

However, I just read Barbara Ehrenreich’s book, NATURAL CAUSES, which is food for thought.

It’s subtitled “An Epidemic of Wellness, the Certainty of Dying, and Killing Ouselves To Live Longer”. Basically, she points out how the bloated American medical establishment has cashed in on our fear of death by too frequent, often unnecessary tests and procedures which promise to extend our lives.  They  may or may not always deliver.  Cosmetic surgery, anti-aging cosmetics, and many health and wellness methods pander to our desire to hang on to our youth and live as long as possible, giving us the illusion of control. .  

Personally, I keep as fit as I can and limit what I eat to keep my GERD under control. I do that so I can fully participate in my life for as long as it may last. But I do question any further procedures I may be asked to undergo to be

very sure it’s worth doing. There isn’t much point in extending life if it becomes too painful, or undergoing even temporarily debilitating efforts to - maybe - prolong my tenure on earth. Besides, my body may have it’s own idea about how long I have left to live.  My control over that is illusory, at best. 

So it’s not necessarily eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die. But worrying too much about one’s inevitable erasure from earth can only detract from enjoying the remaining piece of the pie.

“If you don’t know how to die, don’t worry; Nature will tell you what to do on the spot, fully and adequately. She will do this job perfectly for you; don’t bother your head about it.”

– Montaigne

 “I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born, and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.”

     – Mark Twain

Pain d’Aubergine for 4

 pepper (not specified) I use red bell but could use something spicier

1 medium onion

3 large aubergines

A handful of soaked breadcrumbs

1 egg

Garlic, parsley, basil

1 lg. can tomatoes (1 Kilo)

Slice pepper. Saute gently. Add chopped onion.  Do not burn!! Add aubergine cut in pieces, previously sweated. Cook over low heat with olive oil for 40 minutes.

Remove from heat and crush finely.  Add 3 pieces of garlic, season with salt and pepper. 

Bake in 350 oven in a charlotte mold.

Crush, cook and season tomatoes.  Turn aubergine mixture onto a plate and pour tomato sauce over it.  

May be eaten hot or cold. 

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The following is a little vague!! May take some cooking experience and imagination to succeed!! Here is a photo of the original

:Tarte aux legumes

Crust for tart pan

Saute chopped onion in olive oil

Slice courgettes and lightly brown in olive oil; add to onions

Slice tomatoes and place on the pie crust

Mix eggs and cream.  Pour over the tarte. 

Bake in a hot oven for 30 - 45 minutes.