Nostalgia, Musicals, and Blood Orange Tea Cake

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Living with Poetry is an occasional series where we explore how poetry infuses our everyday lives. Catch up with past features here.

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Over the weekend I took some time to straighten things around the house, this time going through old papers and files. I came across a box of CDs I'd kept, most of them from high school. Artists like Lisa Loeb, Tori Amos, Dave Matthews Band, and Save Ferris, that provided a soundtrack to my teenage years. There were also several musical scores, including Guys & Dolls and Rent. (If you didn't know me back then, I grew up performing in musical theatre.)

Rent was a soundtrack that defined my generation. If you were in musical theatre in high school in the late 1990s, its popular song "Living in America" was your mantra. A string of my memories one summer involves sitting on top of a friend's car outside her parents house, blasting the Rent soundtrack and singing along at dusk.

In a fit of nostalgia, I decided to put the Rent CDs in my car for the long commute to work, and listening to it reminded me of this time of my life, in the fond memory kind of way. One of the most popular songs, "Seasons of Love," asks the poignant question, "How do you measure a year?"

Maybe because it's still resolution-season and I'm lowering my feet to the ground after hovering around during the holidays, or because I'm feeling hopeful, or because I nearly forgot the two year anniversary of this blog that occurred in January, but something about me was filled with pure nostalgia for the past, and full of questions for the present. After all, how do you measure a year? If you're abiding by the laws of Rent, it's in laughter, cups of coffee, and sunsets. Another good reminder, then, that there's really no day but today, and to at least live in the present as much as one can. 

As for poetry, music is a version of it, so a few lyrics will suffice for today. Cheers to the 525,600 minutes we have to laugh, love, live, and eat this year.

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BLOOD ORANGE TEA CAKE

Recipe adapted from Rachel Eats 

I look forward to blood oranges every winter. They're my favorite part of citrus season, and this year I've been using them every week. I made granita, salad dressing, and now cake with them. I call this a tea cake because it's the perfect afternoon snack that would do well with a smear of honey or butter (or both!) alongside a warm mug of tea. I love it right out of the oven. While it's still warm, the cake will be tender with a slightly crunchy golden crust.

Rachel's measurements were in milliliters, and since she used a cup that's the equivalent of a 1/2 cup measure U.S., so I've adapted her measurements accordingly.

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
3/4 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 cup olive oil
1/2 cup Greek yogurt
2 large eggs
Zest and juice of 2 blood oranges

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Whisk the flour, sugar, and baking powder, then pour in the oil, yogurt, and crack in the eggs. Whisk until well combined. Add the zest and blood orange juice and whisk again until well incorporated. Pour into a greased baking dish and bake for 50 minutes to 1 hour, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Literary City Guide: London

“London perpetually attracts, stimulates, gives me a play and a story and a poem, without any trouble, save that of moving my legs through the streets… To walk alone through London is the greatest rest.”

— Virginia Woolf

Photo by Elena Bowes. See more on London's Literary City Guide.

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Shortly after Eat This Poem began in 2012, I told you about a trip I took to London. It was a nostalgic trip for me, walking familiar streets (and sitting in the same squares as Virginia Woolf), seeing favorite museums, and stopping by the building where I took most of my classes while studying abroad. One thing was certain: I loved the city just as much as when I left it. 

“Just over a year ago, I visited London again for the first time in eight years. Except for my favorite cafe in Bloomsbury that had closed, the city hadn’t changed. There was still soot on the churches, black cabs darting through narrow streets, a hint of gray light as the sun starts to set. This time, no longer on a student’s budget, we had afternoon tea at the Dorchester. It had all the pomp and circumstance you’d expect like perfectly tender scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. But what I love most about afternoon tea is the state of mind.

There’s something about it, isn’t there? Pausing from work from 3:30 to 4 pm each day, brewing a dark cup of tea, watching cream swirl in the teacup, taking that first, hot sip. It truly helps you relax and ease into things. It’s the perfect time for a mental break, too, when you can let yourself wander, mull over a creative project, or daydream. I wish we took this ritual more seriously in America, that it was part of our culture so that not having tea would seem, well, uncivilized. A girl can dream.”

— from "Simple Scones," January 30, 2012

These images are from my 2008 trip, and when fellow American and long-time London resident Elena Bowes got in touch with me asking if she could put together a London literary guide, I couldn't wait to host one of my favorite cities on Eat This Poem permanently, and revisit some of my favorite memories.

Elena is from San Francisco, but moved to London in the late eighties and has never left. She brings a thoughtful perspective to the guide, from her favorite local coffee shop to the best way visitors can follow in the footsteps of London's famous writers. 

Brew a cup of tea, then take our next tour! 

Spelt Crepes with Lemon Ricotta and Blueberries + Instagram poems

Many people have asked me how I go about developing a post for Eat This Poem, and the answer is usually, it depends. Some poems are so clearly ready to be paired with a recipe that I think of one seconds after reading the last line. Other poems inspire me, but need to sit for a few days or weeks in the file drawers of my mind until I'm ready to visit them again. Sometimes it's the other way around, like today's offering, when I cook something that I love so much I immediately long for a poem to go alongside it.

In true food blogger fashion, I posted a picture of these crepes on Instagram minutes after finishing breakfast with the caption "I need a poem to go with these crepes." Two readers answered the call with splendid little poems that made me smile. 

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The first is a haiku from @thesugarhit. You can visit her blog by the same name.

Crepes soft and custardy
a splodge of jam is perfect
to compliment you.

Second, a little rhyming poem from @katenolan2, who blogs at Pig Pie Pint.

Roses are red
berries are blue
send me those crepes
please and thank you!

I love that both of these poems are short and sprightly. The use of "splodge" in the haiku works well because it's not as refined as a dollop might be, and anyone who has seen a plate smeared with blueberry sauce knows it's a completely delicious mess, as are our relationships on occasion. 

Although I normally shy away from rhyming poetry, Kate's stanza is whimsical, and a fitting response on Instagram, I think. Rather than say "Wish I had some of those crepes right now!" a few poetic lines make the response far more elegant.

Thanks to you both for responding in verse! 

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SPELT CREPES WITH LEMON RICOTTA AND BLUEBERRIES

Makes 6 to 8 crepes; recipe is easily doubled

I've been incorporating spelt flour into my baking with relative frequency lately. It's one of the easier whole grain flours to swap for all-purpose white flour, and I've experimented already with pizza dough and pancakes with great success. Crepes were a logical extension, and a ratio of half and half makes this recipe more wholesome to begin your mornings. The recipe is easily doubled to make more, but I found this to be enough for two people to enjoy on a lazy Saturday morning.

1/4 cup all purpose flour
1/4 cup spelt flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup whole milk
1 tablespoon butter, melted, plus a bit for the pan
1 egg

For serving
1 lemon
1 cup ricotta
1 cup frozen wild blueberries
1 tablespoon maple syrup

Add all the crepe ingredients to a sturdy blender and process until very smooth. Add a small piece of butter to an 8-inch saute pan and warm over medium heat. Once the butter has melted, pour just about 1/4 cup batter into the pan (a little less than 1/4 cup is fine), and quickly tilt it in a circular motion until the batter spreads evenly. Cook until the edges begin to curl up and pull away from the bottom of the pan, about 2 minutes, then flip and cook the other side for just a minute longer.

Stack the crepes on a plate until you've finished making them all. In between making the crepes, 
zest the lemon into the bowl with ricotta, and add 1/2 the lemon juice. Stir well to combine. 

Add the blueberries, maple syrup, and juice of 1/2 the lemon to a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, then simmer for about 5 minutes, or until the berries have warmed through and the sauce has thickened.

To serve, smear a spoonful of ricotta into each crepe and either roll it up or fold it into quarters. Top with a drizzle of the blueberry sauce.