Leaning into winter
Savouring the highs and sitting with the lows
After I sent out my last newsletter, I thought it was about time for some wholesome content. Something nice and cosy, you know? Andy and I had spent such a long time away and I was so excited to get into autumn after almost two years chasing the sun. So that’s what this one is going to be about. Settling in, slowing down, and making some soup, god dammit.
I just want to start by saying what a good mood I’m in as I write this. It is the most beautiful crisp day, I went for a walk around the common this morning with a new friend who I met on the tube a couple of months ago. Her name is Alisha and I think we might be soul mates, actually. We talked about vegetables and her allotment and camping and how plants reflect the cycles of life that we should really all be following. Alisha is a horticulturist, so she has been learning a lot about how the seasons have a very deep role to play in our own behaviour. Something that resonates with me a lot at the moment.
It was a lovely walk that filled my soul with joy and my lungs with cold, fresh air. I got sun on my face and the high of a new friendship. Now I’m back home, there are fresh sheets on the bed, I’ve eaten two bowls of the tom kha gai that I made last night, there’s stock on the stove, and Andy is making bread from Nigel Slater’s cookbook that my friend Veronique gave me for my birthday last year.
This is just the kind of autumn vibe I was looking forward to when we got home three weeks or so ago. I’d felt a little out of my body from getting sick the last few days of our holiday, my guts were all a wreck, and I had turned into the kind of person who doesn’t want to try the local food for fear of pooing at an inopportune time. NOT the kind of person I would generally describe myself as. So getting back to our little flat, doing our great big Sunday shop, filling the fridge with vegetables and sauerkraut (my microbiome needed all the help it could get), and cooking beans and broths and pumpkin soup and our favourite recipes was just what I needed.
A few loose recipes
To make beans, I usually soak whichever beans I’m using overnight, then I drain them and put them in a big pot with a fresh lot of water, onion, garlic, maybe a lemon, a tomato if I’ve got one hanging around. Some bay leaves, peppercorns… Honestly whatever I’ve got to hand, although I do tend to keep soft herbs like parsley or coriander until the end because otherwise they turn to a dark green sludge. Hardier herbs like rosemary or oregano are fine though. You’ve got to add lots of salt and a good glug of olive oil (or whatever fat you have lying around — butter, chicken render, etc), and then you just let it bubble away, not too violently, for a couple of hours. Here is a proper bean recipe that I have followed in the past, but she does call for an inch of fat which I think is a bit overkill.
For stock, I will basically just chuck any leftover dribs and drabs from the fridge and the veggie bowl into a pot with lots of cold water. Today, this meant some sad-looking carrots, a bunch of Thai basil that had gone black at the back of the fridge, a fennel bulb which Andy told me afterwards he had been planning to plant, garlic, shallot, some wrinkly spring onions… You get the idea. Peppercorns and salt too. You just let it all simmer on the stove and then strain out the bits.
I’ve been using these stocks to make various broths but a particularly successful one was a vegetarian pho that I made a couple of weeks ago. Pho without meat can be a little underwhelming sometimes, but this one really slapped. To the stock, I added star anise, cardamom pods, cloves, garlic, ginger, a chili from the garden. And then at the end, I stirred in some miso which really added depth. We had it with fat rice noodles, bean sprouts, lots of lime, coriander, and Thai basil (from the same bunch that just went into my stock pot).
I was given Alison Roman’s new cookbook, Sweet Enough, for my birthday by my friends Bridget and Ben, so one evening I made her “A Better Banana Bread” recipe which made for a very satisfying afternoon tea for a few days running. And last night I made Nigel’s “A deeply appley apple crumble” which I had as a pre-dinner snack and then again for breakfast this morning. Photos of the recipes for both at the end of this email.
Friends, walks, pubs, balaclavas
I’ve been getting up to plenty of other, non-eating-related, autumn things as well. Walks, for one. At this point, the sun is setting at about 4:30, so I’ve been getting out for a stomp in the park around 1 pm to make the most of the bright skies. The leaves are all orange, the air smells sweet with decay — which doesn’t sound that nice but it actually is — and the dog has the time of her life. I get all bundled up in my big shearling coat and my nose gets cold but the rest of me is warm and it feels just right.
The other day I went to my friends’ Grace and Alex’s to work for the day and pick up Lottie who had been staying with them while I was in Brussels for a couple of days. For any freelancers or workers from home, I’d highly recommend going to a friend’s place to get things done. It’s so much nicer than being alone in your own living room all day.
That evening I was meeting Laura and Venetia at a pub in Fitzrovia and our reservation was outside, so I borrowed a beanie and a balaclava and an extra coat from Gracie, just in case. It ended up not being that cold, so I lent the jacket to one of the girls and the beanie to another, and I must say I have fallen in love with this balaclava. It may just be a trend, but I am into it and really not looking forward to returning it to its rightful owner. My sister Zara says it makes me look like a winter turtle, which I will take as a compliment, thank you very much.
Sitting with it
All this leaning into winter has been exactly what I needed, but I wouldn’t be being honest if I didn’t say that I’ve had a few knocks as well. My tummy was one thing, but then there was a large surprise tax bill, and very sadly, my grandpa passed away on Wednesday. A fact that keeps sneaking up on me at unexpected times. He died in Brisbane while I was on a brewery tour in rural Belgium for work. Or at least that’s when I found out. But derailing the day's program with personal problems wasn’t really an option, so I just carried on — chatting to the brewer about his wonderful beer, and then to the vegetable farmer about wild farming and permaculture. It’s lucky that I was spending the day talking about things that I love so much or I probably would have keeled right over.
When I got to Gare du Midi to take the train back to London, the gates were opened and the sadness poured in. I had a long way to fall after two great days in my old hometown, eating pizza and pasta, talking about produce. “It’s hard to balance my emotions,” I said to Mum on the phone, fat tears rolling down my face as I stared at the wall. “Why would you try to balance your emotions when your grandfather has just died?” She said back. “As Nana would have told you — just sit with it.”
How’s that for a piece of wisdom, hey? Just sit with it. So that’s what I’ve done, or tried to do. Sat with it and thought of the good things about him and the honest things and even the bad things too. And if the colder months were made for one thing, don’t you think it’s just that? Sitting, resting, thinking, reflecting, processing. Working through the hard stuff so you can come out the other end feeling ready for life and action and fun and adventure. I think so. I still miss my grandpa though.
My old home
Aside from the news about Pa, the two days I spent in Brussels were a joy. It had been years since I’d been back to this place that I knew so well and had so many memories in. The familiarity was like a little blanket as I wandered around without needing the guidance of a map, noticing things that I’d never paid attention to as a drunk teenager stumbling through the streets.
The vintage jewellery and the old shop windows and sweet little bookstores. The fonts on all the old signs. All these treasures I’d never looked at properly because I was too focused on the bars and Häagen-Dazs. What really got me though were the brasseries. Wood-paneled, warmly lit, paint and mirrors that had chipped and softened with age, and waiters wearing black trousers and white shirts and waistcoats.
I had a bit of time to kill before dinner, so I popped into one such spot around the corner from my hotel called La Mort Subite (The Sudden Death). I sat at one of their old wooden tables, my waiter helped me pick out a beer, and I just sat and watched the other guests around me, all deep in conversation, sipping their drinks, nibbling on cheese and salami and tiny little cornichons. It felt like the kind of place where people came to talk about ideas or write novels. The only one taking pictures was me, and I could have sat there for hours watching all these people who were so in the moment.
It made me remember what a charming place Brussels is — no fuss, no pretension. Just good beers and good people. It made me want to make a habit of jumping on the Eurostar and popping back every now and then. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?
Some housekeeping
Since starting this newsletter back in March, I have loved writing these little stories every fortnight. Getting my ideas out and hearing such nice things back from you. So much so that I’ve decided to expand my offering a bit.
Starting next week, I will be launching a new format — interviews! So, one week you will get one of these kinds of letters, and the next I will share a conversation with someone I love and admire. I had forgotten just how much I enjoy interviewing people until I was looking back over one of my old zines the other day and wondered why I hadn’t thought to include them in my newsletter earlier. I’ve already got some great ones booked in to record and I can’t wait to send them out into the world. They will, like the essays, be loosely based on home, belonging, and finding your place in the world. But they will also be about much more than that.
Because interviewing and transcribing are quite labour-intensive, I’ll be sending the first three out for free and then will be making them available for paid subscribers. The essay format will always be free, but your girl’s gotta eat, you know?
It’s 15:43 right now, and after a beautiful bright day, the sun’s already starting to set. Andy is thrilled at how “obese” his dough is getting, and I’m wearing Grace’s balaclava again even though I’m not that cold. Hopefully, you are all savouring the changing seasons as much as I am trying to, and if you’re not, then maybe that’s something to sit with.
Sending you all lots of light and love and fragrant broth!
Annabel
P.S. Here are the recipes I promised earlier…
Alison Roman’s A Better Banana Bread
Nigel Slater’s A Deeply Appley Apple Crumble
N.B — I skipped the peeling step and it came out great.
Gosh. Wonderful. Sorry about Pa 😢
Thanks Annabel (and thank you Nadine for recommending that I read this). I feel like I’m in a similar ‘season’, I’m calling ‘grounding’. I just finished a book that I think you might like “why women grow” by Alice Vincent.
Much love
Em