Dressing for Success + Precious Cargo

A few good condiments + 84, Charing Cross Road

*A quick note: I’ll be traveling (to London!) next week, so I’m taking October 9 off from publishing. Hoping I’ll have many more UK books to recommend in the coming weeks!*

Read

84, Charing Cross Road, by Helene Hanff, pub. 1970
Buy: Bookshop.org or your local used bookstore

I was all set to write about a book I’d just read that I have mixed feelings about. It was a positive enough reading experience, but in the end I didn’t feel a spark (she loves a spark!). This first-time novelist has been compared to Rachel Cusk, among others. The book was fascinating, in its way, but I spent as much of it feeling annoyed as I did absorbed. Cusk is deservedly hailed as a modern master, but many of her books have left me cold or frustrated (not a hot take), despite my having an inordinate amount of respect for her as an artist. I know fine art is meant to challenge, test patience, even; but sometimes I’m not in the mood. Whenever I read an esoteric book whose narrator remains at a distinct emotional remove, I feel a sense of dissonance. Did I enjoy the reading experience? If not, does that mean I didn’t like the book itself? Over the years I’ve learned that much of the time I’m looking for a sense of deep connection with a narrator. This doesn’t mean I want fluff, or am afraid of being pushed; I just want to leave feeling something – inspired? I think that might be it.

All that’s to say is the book I thought I was going to write about this week left me feeling sort of empty. I love a brooding read that pushes the limits of my assumptions. But sometimes I just want a book to wrap me up in its pages and plaster me to the couch, enraptured and engaged, delighted and driven to read until I find myself in complete darkness without having realized the sun has set and I haven’t eaten dinner. So after reading the aforementioned unnamed novel and feeling rather dim, I picked up 84, Charing Cross Road, read it cover to cover, and here I am to tell you about it.

I’ve read this book maybe a dozen times over the years, and each reading brings up something different: This go-round I felt nostalgia, even grief, despite Helene Hanff being an utterly hilarious and beguiling presence. Charing is a slim little series of letters between Hanff – a fledging New York City-based script writer – and a London-based antiquarian bookseller, Marks & Co. (specifically an employee named Frank Doel), between 1949 and 1969. Hanff originally writes to the bookshop in search of a slew of very old, out of print books; a nameless stranger returns the correspondence. Thus begins 20 years of letters, typed on a typewriter and mailed back and forth overseas, between Hanff and, eventually, multiple Marks & Co. employees, their family members, and even a neighbor of one of the families. 

Hanff is up there with the Dervla Murphys of the world in terms of charisma. The lady is fucking wild. Unabashed, upfront and informal, she gradually softens Frank, a typically solemn Brit, whose signatures move from impersonal (‘with kind regards’) to warm (‘with best wishes,’ ‘sincerely,’ and eventually, ‘love’) over the course of their yearslong relationship. Hanff and Frank’s correspondence is born out of a shared love of books – she’s an avid reader, he makes a living unearthing just the types of rarities she finds fascinating – but, thanks to Hanff’s effusiveness and generosity, the letters get more personal, and an unlikely friendship blooms. After hearing from a British friend in New York about England’s stringent war rations, Hanff begins sending parcels to the bookshop filled with novelties the staff hasn’t seen since before the War: eggs, whole hams, Easter candies. Soon, other employees begin mailing thank you letters to Hanff; some develop deep friendships of their own. Eventually, Hanff collected the letters and published them – 84 Charing Cross Road is the address of Marks & Co. – to great fanfare. 

I’m not sure whether it’s my age, state of mind, or the state of the world, but between belly laughs (Hanff is SO funny) I was filled with a deep sense of loss. It might be the almost visceral purity of Hanff’s goodness (compared with the current world’s seeming badness?); maybe it’s the profundity of the relationship between her and Frank, or the fact that the simple pleasure of book-loving can wholly enrich a life (the world feels so much more complicated at the moment). Most likely it’s the sense that we’ll never again live in a world where people send letters in the mail, anxiously awaiting (sometimes months) a response. Where friendships were forced to form slowly, and acts of generosity were that much more significant because of the lengths one had to go to to impart a gesture. I feel so many feelings about this book – inspiration being one of them. Esoterica, shmesoterica: 84, Charing Cross Road will weasel its way into any beating heart.

Eat

Rather than a prepared dish this week I decided I’d add a few staples to your condiment arsenal. If you have a few go-tos at the ready in your fridge you can whip meals up at a moment’s notice. The first — light, warmly spiced — can be strewn on daintier leaves (arugula, baby spinach, young radicchio) and grain salads. The second is Asian-inspired, more sauce than vinaigrette, and delicious on hardier veg: grilled eggplant, wilted greens, juicy sliced tomatoes. The last — a creamy, herby vinaigrette — is a perfect pair for little gem salads (grilled and raw). You want to be sure to use a sturdy leaf because the vinaigrette is weightier, burgeoning on an aioli. It also makes for an excellent crudite dip.

Bright and Spiced
Makes roughly ¾ cup

Juice and zest from 1 big lemon
1 garlic clove, microplaned
1½ teaspoons pomegranate molasses (I love Just Pomegranate Molasses)
1 generous shake cinnamon
½ evoo
Kosher salt

To a jar, add the lemon juice and zest, garlic, pomegranate molasses and cinnamon and whisk. Slowly drizzle in your evoo and whisk until the mixture is emulsified. Season with salt and taste! You’re looking for bright and acidic with a hint of sweetness. 

Miso-Tahini
Makes roughly ½ cup

1 tablespoon mellow white or yellow miso
2 cloves garlic, smashed to a paste
1 tablespoon mirin
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
¼ cup tahini
1 teaspoon maple syrup
Lukewarm water

In a small bowl using a fork, mash the miso and garlic together to form a paste. Add the mirin and stir until the miso is incorporated, then add the rice vinegar, tahini and maple. Stir well – the tahini will thicken the sauce, so add a few drops of water to thin before using. 

Dill Vinaigrette
Makes roughly 1½ cups

3 tablespoons mild vinegar (I use moscatel)
1 tablespoon Dijon
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 room temperature egg yolk
1 cup blended oil (½ evoo, ½ grapeseed; you can also use 100% evoo or grapeseed)
1 cup dill, chopped (you can use any herb but I love dill best!)
Kosher salt

Add the vinegar, Dijon, garlic and egg yolk to the base of a blender or food processor. With the motor running, verrrrrry slowly drizzle in the oil until the mixture is emulsified – it’ll be aioli-like! Add the dill and whizz until blended and bright green. Season with salt. This will set in the fridge, so stir in a few drops of water to loosen first.