Breakfast Treats + Something Old, Something New

Blue Corn Pancakes + Two January Reads

READ

This week, two books that helped January fly. 

The Door by Magda Szabó, translated from the Hungarian by Len Rix, pub. 1987
Buy: Bookshop.org or your local bookshop

Come & Get It by Kylie Reid, pub. 2024
Buy: Bookshop.org or your local bookshop

In Ali Smith’s introduction to The Door, she mentions an astounding / depressing statistic: Only approximately 3% of all books published in the English-speaking world are translated; after Googling, I learned 1% of these are written by women. Regular readers know that translated works are a personal favorite. They challenge on multiple levels, not least because their tones oftentimes reflect cultures I’m unfamiliar with. It takes a moment to sink into a new cadence, but the payoff is almost always worth that temporary scratchiness; whole new worlds open up thanks to the (frequently thankless) work of translators. The next time you pop into a bookshop, I urge you to visit their translated books shelf; so many gems lie in wait!

Magda Szabó is one of Hungary’s best writers of the 20th century. In the late 40s, her work was banned after the Soviets took over Hungary; she was stripped of the country’s highest literary prize the same day it was awarded and wasn’t able to publish again until a decade later. The Door follows a writer, also named Magda, who has just been granted the ability to publish again after years of censorship. Her newfound professional freedom means that she has less time for domestic upkeep; she must search for a housekeeper. Soon she finds Emerence, a sturdy, hard-worn woman from the same part of the country as Magda. Emerence finds Magda worthy of caring for (not the other way around) and the two enter into a relationship upon which the rest of the book is based. 

The Door proceeds slowly, yet is filled with tension. Emerence and Magda’s exchanges are at turns fiery and loving. Magda propels from feelings of dependence (Emerence is notorious in the neighborhood for her endless energy, hard work and ability to care for multiple citizens at once; Magda is a hopeless housewife) to frustration (Emerence gives little in the emotional department; her gestures of caretaking can be knifed with withholding). As a reader you’re pulled between their constant state of argumentation until, silently, a kind of filial love grows between the two women. Trust forms, though it isn’t spoken of. Emerence dotes on Magda, her husband and a dog, Viola, whom Emerence trains, adores and abuses in equal measure. As she builds the women’s relationship up, Szabó stretches a tenor of unease. You feel at any point that the dam will break.  

This is in part because Emerence has a secret: She refuses to open her door to anyone. She entertains on her porch, a subtle smell of disinfectant seeping from inside. People respect her boundaries because she’s integral to the neighborhood: She cooks and bakes for the bereaved, sweeps the streets, admonishes the cruel. Rumors are woven: of her having housed Germans and Russians during the war; cared for and protected the daughter of a Jewish couple. After years of working with Magda, Emerence allows her inside – just once – in order to convey her wishes upon her death. What follows is a dramatic, scathing meditation on privacy, old age, trust, sacrifice, betrayal, friendship and the meaning of art. Not light stuff, to be sure; a story that sticks to your ribs.

I don’t often write of new novels, but I just love me some Kylie Reid. In past newsletters I’ve touted Reid’s blockbuster, Such a Fun Age, as the perfect gateway book. So when I heard she had a new one coming down the pike, I pre-ordered it from my local bookstore (Stories, ILY) and quite literally dropped everything when I received the text that the book had arrived. Then I proceeded to read it in three days, staying up hours past my bedtime in order to do so. Reid is a genius at propulsive stories about relationships. The ending of Such a Fun Age reads like a thriller, but there’s nothing scary about it. Reid plays with her characters’ (and her readers’) anxieties until they become one. Suddenly you’ll find yourself, heart pumping, turning pages to see what happens next. The brilliant / crazy thing is, the actual stakes aren’t that high. But your emotional strings have been pulled so taut, and the characters have been drawn so deftly, that every action feels paramount. 

Come & Get It reads the same way, and I gotta say, it was Such a Fun Reading Experience. The book takes place in Fayetteville, Arkansas, on a University campus – an excellent backdrop if you know how to write Gen Z, which Reid does. I laughed out loud many times at her dark, sardonic take on 20-somethings. She doesn’t judge her characters – she lets them be themselves – but they’re often cruel, ignorant, racist and too young to understand why what they say is cringe. 

The story follows two women: Angela is a 37-year-old Black teacher living in Chicago with her perpetually broke girlfriend / sort-of wife, Robin. A job offer in Arkansas leads her to leave her life (and her wife) and start anew, where she meets Millie: 24, a Black RA on a mostly white campus; resourceful, mature and goal-oriented, she’s back at school as a super senior after taking a year off to care for her ailing mother. The majority of the novel takes place in Millie’s dorm, where three students (Peyton, Kennedy and Tyler, all white) live in the suite adjacent to Millie’s room. Angela and Millie are on separate journeys – Angela is spreading her wings, enjoying being able to do whatever she wants, whenever she wants; Millie is working toward home ownership, her life consisting of saving money, hanging with her two RA buddies (hilarious side characters in their own rights) and her dorm duties – until they’re not. Angela takes a freelance gig that requires her to spend time observing the students on Millie’s floor. Weeks pass and slowly, each woman’s moral code – steely at the beginning of the book – begins to disintegrate. Lines are crossed, people are hurt, and you, as the reader, must bear witness to it all. 

On its surface the book is a buzzy campus novel, but a thin layer beneath lurk themes of race, equity, consumerism, class, boundaries and privilege. Reid’s gift is tricking you into thinking you’re reading something light and then hitting you with a cold dose of reality. I can’t wait to see what she does next. 

EAT

In winter, we eat pancakes. I’m a picky pancaker, and look for a combo of tart, sweet and salt, plus earthiness to balance it all. The walnuts and kumquats are optional, but they’re easy to make, very tasty in this plate-up and will keep for ages / your future pancake or snacking needs. (Both are great over yogurt and porridge. And neither has refined sugar if you care about that stuff.)

Notes: You can likely sub yellow cornmeal for the blue. I haven’t tried it but let me know if you do! And if you can’t get your hands on kumquats, don’t fear. Just sub another tart fruit (grapefruit segments or bruleed grapefruit would be excellent, as would blackberries – frozen will work – tossed with some lemon juice). You can also sub another nut or seed for walnuts. Just be mindful of baking time.

Blue Corn Pancakes with Maple Walnuts + Candied Kumquats
Makes 5ish nice-sized pancakes (like the one pictured)

Pancakes

1 cup blue corn atole (I bought mine in New Mexico, where blue corn rules; this looks like a good option!)
½ cup oat flour (you can make this by blending oats in a food processor or blender)
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
3 tablespoons ghee, melted, plus more for pancake-making and serving
2 cups coconut milk (I love Aroy-D; you can also use another milk of choice)
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs, beaten

In a bowl, add the blue corn atole, oat flour, salt and baking soda and stir. Mix in the ghee, coconut milk, vanilla and eggs and stir until you don’t see any dry lumps. Heat a small saucepan to medium heat and grease with ghee. Add ½ cup batter. When you see bubbles on the surface AND the pancake can hold its shape when gently poked with a spatula, flip and cook on the other side until golden. 

Maple Walnuts

¾ cup walnuts
2 tablespoons maple syrup
Kosher salt

Preheat your oven to 375F and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Toss the walnuts thoroughly with the maple syrup and the teeniest pinch of Kosher salt and bake for 15 minutes. Let cool completely. 

Candied Kumquats

½ cup runny honey
1 cup filtered water
5 cardamom pods, smashed
1 cup kumquats

In a medium saucepan, heat the honey, water and cardamom pods until the honey dissolves (this is a less sweet version of a simple syrup). Tip in the kumquats and simmer for 15 minutes (you’ll see the kumquats inhaling a bit – this is a good sign!). Let cool. (Keep these refrigerated in their syrup; reuse syrup for future fruit-poaching fun!)

To plate: Top the pancakes with a spoonful of ghee, a sprinkle of walnuts, a spoonful of candied kumquats, and a drizzle of the kumquat poaching liquid (you can also drizzle with more maple syrup).