Happy New Year! 2022 will be different, I can feel it.
Last year, on the first of January, I lay on my sofa, downcast. I thought of our far-flung friends who in that moment seemed so distant, and, in a bid to obliterate space, wrote an email asking for book recommendations. I was curious to know the stories (thoughts?) that had wandered into their lives the year before, during that atomised time — 2020 — in their particular bubble corner of the planet. It was a fun experiment, a bit like a singular bookclub, which pulled me to read novels I didn’t know of, or would never have picked up. I read again in French for the first time in years!
My favourite book last year, however, landed otherwise. A friend invited for apéro a couple of months ago unexpectedly (though she has done it before!) brought and lent me The Summer Book by Tove Jansson. I read it slowly, delectably, diving into its magical world parsimoniously to draw out the pleasure. Were I to follow the request sent to my friends that first day of January last year: to suggest one work of fiction read in the past year that was notable, for any reason (fun, weird, well-written, easy, interesting, thought-provoking, short, distracting, ...) — The Summer Book is my recommendation.
This year started differently. Having wrested away the frustrations accumulated to the point of comedy during the habitually peaceful in-between-holiday lull (show cancelled, walk thwarted, a pesky bug cascading from one family member to the next, NITS — I kid you not), January has arrived in a very different light. The sun is shining.
We met friends at the pub in the soft glow and lightly hangovered quietude of the first day of the year.
We finished a puzzle.
We went ice skating.
We invited neighbours for a Galette des Rois two days ahead of the official date, and learned why it was ‘officially’ ok to do so! (Incidentally a very good galette, with almonds and apple sauce, which is my new favourite version. Though classic and elaborate iterations are good too!)
We went to the theatre and saw a very good play.
2022 is off to a good start, we had to make it so.
Things to make and cook
Brunch in January is like hibernating with friends. There may be quiche, cured salmon, green shakshuka, or, if time fails, cheese and ham and eggs — soft boiled, or coddled? — and bread and butter and jam, possibly homemade. Brunch is the flip side of apéro, it can be scaled up or down to fit the motivation and intensity of the rest of the weekend.
This year I will buy Seville oranges primarily for vin d’orange, one of the best things I did last year (!). I will also probably be unable to resist the fastidious pleasure of marmalade, despite dozens of last year’s jars still crowding the kitchen.
And I will learn to make pot-au-feu. A one-pot meal of slowly simmered, tender meats and vegetables served with mustard and horseradish, pot-au-feu is considered quintessentially French, ‘a dish symbolic of France’ (Oxford companion to food). I love it and I have never made it. This is the time, I will report back.
Places to eat
I can’t wait to return to Brutto, already in my personal firmament of favourite restaurants in London. The warm, dusky atmosphere perfect for its easy and delectable dishes. Their ‘philosophy is simplicity and quality, authenticity and big flavours, in a fun, convivial environment.’ Nailed it.
There was the idea of Vienna in the tiles and excellent food, too, at Café Deco — a lovely evening to meet a friend I never see often enough.
We went back to Trullo after many years, why did we wait so long?
And I have finally scored a reservation at Sessions Art Club — so elusive it became somewhat irksome. But this is the dance in London, always. I look forward to it.
What to drink
I will start the year with the bittersweet promise of this Cynar negroni riff, aka Remember the Alimony cocktail. Best name. [Direct recipe link here]
Goodbye to 2021. Happy New Year!
Valerie, this was such a treat to read. I love how you honour the sadness and frustrations of pandemic time, but then catch the moments in which so much living happened. And the kind of living that is life affirming. I have just finished reading Zauner Crying in H Mart and was looking for fiction to read alongside Srinavasan's 'Right to Sex'. It will be Jansson's book. Tell me how Sessions Arts Club is when you go. And let's see if we have any luck with the Plimsoll. Here is to 2022, may be kinder and gentler.
What a cheering post - thank you! Love Tove Jansson so much too. Who will Comfort Toffle is my favourite children’s book ever. And BBC Radio 4 did a marvellous animated reading of Moomin Mid Winter on Christmas Eve - you don’t need the kids to listen with you. I listened twice on my own! There is also a newish Finnish film about her amazing life which I haven’t managed to see yet.