In December 2022,
I cook with anyone who finds the expectation of spending time with family difficult. If you also need some company, here come a batch of gnocchi from Claude and my recipe for crêpes.
The recipes below work wonders for one.
When Claude opens the door of the yellow kitchen again, she is struck by the signs of her aloneness she left behind. The smallest Moka pot she owns stands on the hob, a single plate on the drying rack. On the counter, the fruit bowl lingers half-empty, a butternut squash destined for rotting lies against its wooden sides. Alone in her kitchen, Claude cuts the squash in two, massages it with oil, salt and pepper and knits together sprigs of thyme and rosemary to add on top. This last ode to autumn in the form of a vegetable disappears into the oven, the warming wind from the machine gives back colour to Claude’s fingers and nose. She is cooking a dinner for one. Butternut squash gnocchi with a butter and sage sauce. The dough she must work before she can serve dinner; the warming butter for Maman and Mamie, the golden evaporating bubble and ubiquitous smell it creates; sage, her winter mint.
As she waits for the squash to bake, Claude reorganises her kitchen. She brings her favourite cups and the smaller saucepans forward at the front of the shelves. She sorts out her spices: oregano, turmeric, cumin seeds, chilli flakes and black pepper stay near the hob; nutmeg, Tabasco, smoked paprika and ginger ground are put away in the cupboards. She counts her bags of flour and dreams of buying voluminous glass jars so she can store the explosive powders properly. She knows already that she won’t indulge this wish; she seals each bag cautiously with pins instead. Claude keeps the 00 flour out and begins to pass the vegetable’s flesh through a sieve. This is hard work that requires her muscles to pull, her brain to pause as its focus turns to the synergy between her arms and hands, far from the rest, the flesh left behind to dry, the gurgle of draining water last. He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint and sinew in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself in a movement, flying exultantly under the stars and over the face of dead matter that did not move, Maman murmurs. Claude reaches for a bowl next, adds the squash and mixes in flour, one egg and shaved parmesan. The broken shell leaves her fingers sticky. She seasons the dough with salt and pepper. She grins as she remembers she should add nutmeg and returns to the sliding cupboard to seize the spice, a nod to Giulia. She kneads the dough on a floured surface, divides it into four pieces and rolls each one of them into a log, dough residues stick to her hands like limpets on beach rocks. She cuts the gnocchi into two-centimetre pieces and rolls each gnocco against the back of her fork. She turns the radio on halfway through the process. A smile plays across her lips as her thumb rolls against the channel knob, as she allows herself to search for a new station, one of her choice, alone at home. She pursues each gnocco meticulously as her hands work to make something good for herself after today’s journey. She sets one batch of gnocchi aside and puts the leftovers in the freezer. There will be future dinners for one. For now, she boils the balls of pasta in salted water until they float to the surface. The dough holds together, the gnocchi swim back up, and so she lights up the gas on the next hob, the sage crisps and the butter bubbles before she coats each gnocco in the thick sauce. She plates her gnocchi, a top-up of shaved parmesan, and so Claude eats at the wobbly, wooden table.
The yellow walls stand for the full moon.
The extract above is taken from my debut novel, The Yellow Kitchen. For the purpose of food shopping, here is the ingredients list to cook Claude’s butternut squash gnocchi:
1 squash, halved
250g flour, 00 type if possible
1 egg
1 handful of parmesan, shaved
1 tsp nutmeg
1 sprig of thyme
1 sprig of rosemary
salt and pepper to taste
This dough preserves well in the freezer.
Before going into details, a disclaimer: this paragraph reads more authoritative than I intend for it to be. I’m nobody to tell you how to spend your weekend, but these are a few tips I have collected over the years. If possible, go food shopping hungry and on the 23rd (today!) to avoid the crowds as they blur envies with their wary eyes and frustrated tutting. Buy extra, anything you’re craving, especially cupboard ingredients – you can decide what to eat later. You’ll change your mind about what you want to eat. Sweet, savoury, it’s an affair that has no hierarchy or timetable. You could write a letter to yourself and open it next year. Have a little dance, a cheer or a cry, a nap, a read. Books are a great place to hang out (I shared some of my 2022 reads here if you need inspiration). A crêpe pan (extra thin) is a great gift to give yourself and so is making crêpes on a solo Christmas day. I’ll be buying eggs and hunt for spreads today.
Grab a teacup to measure ingredients, one egg, this is a loose recipe for crêpes:
1 egg
¾ cup of flour
¾ water (I find that water gives a thinner batter and accommodates more diverse fillings than milk)
1 tbsp of extra virgin olive oil or rum, depending on the mood
1 pinch of salt
Butter for the pan (salted, merci)
Start with pouring the flour in a serving bowl. Add the salt, crack the egg, beat and start incorporating the water. Mix continuously. Add a tablespoon of olive oil or rum, mix again. Cover the bowl with a kitchen towel and leave the preparation to rest for one hour or two.
When you’ll be ready to cook the crêpes, the secret is to warm-up the pan on a high heat before cooking the first crêpe. You want it to be fuming, then lower the heat . Spread a knob of butter and pour in a ladle of preparation, golden until the dough settles, flip it around, repeat. I like mine on the uncooked side so the process is fast.
It’s likely the first crêpe will turn out awful, but this is good news – something to nibble while cooking. If you are making crêpes for someone else, add an extra egg per person and increase flour and water portions as you go (you are looking for a homogeneous mixture, thin but holding). The most important part is to start with the dry ingredients, the rest is a matter of trusting yourself.
Some of my favourite fillings are: goat cheese, crushed walnuts and balsamic vinegar; parsley, garlic, crème fraîche and chestnut mushrooms; smoked salmon, crème fraîche, dill and the squeeze of a lemon; boiled spinach, tomatoes and feta; lemon and sugar; Nutella.
Otherwise, there is Alice B. Toklas’ tender tart:
Remember that slicing an onion is a good way to have a delicious cry. The Onion Papers will return in January 2023 – thanks so much for reading and subscribing to my rambly newsletter. I love receiving your photos, so please keep sharing what you’re cooking with me.
Take care of yourself, à très vite,
Margaux
PS. The Yellow Kitchen is currently available for 99p as an ebook, a treat for the holidays.
