Wandering through cold streets tangled like old string,
Coming on fountains rigid in the frost,
Its formula escapes you; it has lost
The certainty that constitutes a thing.Only the old, the hungry and the humbled
Keep at this temperature a sense of place,
And in their misery are all assembled;
The winter holds them like an Opera-House.Ridges of rich apartments loom to-night
Where isolated windows glow like farms,
A phrase goes packed with meaning like a van,A look contains the history of man,
And fifty francs will earn a stranger right
To take the shuddering city in his arms.-W.H. Auden, 1907. Modernist poet.
Pull out the slippers, slip on the socks. Dust off the mattress and reset the clock. Turn up the heat and go for a jog, while the cauldron bubbles with last night’s broth. Replace sunburn and mosquito bites with pasty skin and chilly nights and you’re right on the mark. While practising your poetic verse is a great way to give your brain a workout after a period of reticence, you won’t see the benefit of that fortification against dementia until you’re well into your age and pipping on your tobacco and looking out your bedroom window!
I’m here to herald something much more immediate. It might not be the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus or a giant paycheck waiting for you in the mail, but I can assure you that a great summons is coming to a city near and it is far more exciting than waiting for your brain to mature or for the grass to grow.
As you would know from my previous post, not too long ago I took to the streets for some photography of the Autumn leaves, picked up some wonderfully fresh honey and passed by my grandmother’s garden for this fantastic photograph of a growing broccoli stem. Those images of liquid amber trees dropping their leaves is soon to be a relic of the past as we confront the change of seasons.
From the view of my window, the trees are now like skeletons, waving flexible limbs in resistance against the wind, crested with chirping birds in the early morning and burdened with the buds of younger growth coming into fruition. For a lot of us, there isn’t a whole lot to look forward to with the arrival of winter. There is the routine dusting and cleaning and pulling out of the warmer closet. That’s why I’m here to remind you of the hidden glories in the colder months that are so often overlooked.
So, while you read your feeds and wait for that mug of freshly brewed Earl Grey to cool-off its steam and dissolve the granules of sugar in that hot milky vortex, ready the stove and heat up the oven. In the spirit of W.H. Auden’s profound, allusive poetry that warms your heart and soul, Wild Thyme and Sweet Pea is ready to roll out the catalogue of winter recipes and ruminations on the coldest of seasons of the year, and you are cordially invited to partake in everything that is soon to be on offer.
As I was writing this post, I read out the poem that I chose to feature; she remarked at the poverty of many poets of their time as well as remarking on their lack of fame and fortune. It was interesting to here this, as the time when winter comes around, it is inevitable that somebody asks me what my favourite solace would be. I have the impression they are expecting me to say hot chocolate or teddy bears or something else of a more common appeal.
It does often come as a shock to them that I mention my solace for winter is being rugged up with tea and a giant tome of poetry. This winter, I have decided to break open the books of Auden and make another attempt to decipher the complex metre and method of his writing, unravelling that deeply political voice on a commentary of a disillusioned world.
We each have our creature comforts and habits of retreating when confronted with the heart of winter and to this end; while I can’t physically be there to provide any other form of warmth (minds out of the gutter, please), my contribution in the foggy days and crowded is nights is to index this growing archive of recipes to work with, assisting you in keeping the invitations going out to your friends and family. Please keep in contact with comments and e-mails, for as always I am all ears.
The Wild Thyme and Sweet Pea project found its roots when it was plucked excitedly from the garden, washed briskly in a basin of water and lovingly left out to dry in a soothing marinade of vision and ambition ... More »
The Food of Italy, Kay Halsey
The Medieval Kitchen: Recipes from France and Italy, Odile Redon, Francoise Sabban & Silvano Serventi
The Silver Spoon, Phaidon Press
Jamie's Italy, Jamie Oliver
Italian Country Cooking, Loukie Werle
La Cocina de Mama: The Great Home Cooking of Spain, Penelope Casas