Sometimes a meal is the focus of a get-together. There are dishes that take time and effort and they demand appreciation because they are difficult or elaborate or because they have exotic or novel flavors. Usually, though, we end up eating similar foods in our day-to-day lives and fail to recognize, as we ingest, how wonderful they really are.
Croissants definitely do not qualify as a frequent item in
my home. I barely drink coffee (although this project might change that) and
I’d never baked croissants before in my life. I’d eaten my fair share (including the mouth-watering dark chocolate filled variety), but
had this idea that they were very complicated to make and required a level of
culinary skill I have never aspired to. I was wrong. They aren’t difficult to
make, but they do require some attention to detail, willingness to work at it a
little bit at a time, and patience to wait the required time between dough
folding bouts.
I had to follow a recipe (there’s a link to the one I used
at the end of the post), but I’m pretty sure both Olivier and Gabri could make
these with their eyes closed. In fact, croissants and café au lait are such an integral part of Three Pines and the
characters’ quotidian that we, as readers, tend to smell coffee and croissants
just thinking about the idyllic village.
There is magic in the kind of meal that is enjoyed regularly
to the point that it is almost taken for granted. In this first introduction to
the food in Three Pines, we are drawn to a setting and a sensory experience
that is so common to the characters that they seem to barely notice it. There
is magic in the comfort of familiarity.
“Clara sat at the table by the window and waited. Patience was not her long suit. The mixture of café au lait and impatience was producing an exquisite vibration.”
The scene opens with Clara waiting at the Bistro, an
extension of home for most of the Three Pines characters, croissant crumbs
scattered on her person, and a mug of café
au lait in her hands. She’s there at Jane’s request and, when this friend
arrives we discover that, not only are they close friends (despite an obvious
age gap), but also that Jane has chosen Clara to confide in. She is going
through a life-altering moment and has made a momentous decision. She needs a
friend. A kindred spirit. I think she chose Clara not only because of their
friendship, but also because Clara, as an artist, was in a unique position to
understand and empathize.
“No one was to see Jane’s art.Until now, apparently. But now the artist was overcome with an emotion so strong she sat in the Bistro and wept. Clara was both horrified and terrified. She looked furtively around, partly in hopes no one was watching, and partly desperately hoping someone was, and would know what to do. Then she asked herself the simple question that she carried with her and consulted like a rosary. What would Jane do? And she had her answer. Jane would let her cry, would let her wail. Would let her throw the crockery, if she needed to. And Jane would not run away. When the maelstrom passed, Jane would be there. And then she would put her arms around Clara, and comfort her, and let her know she was not alone. Never alone. And so Clara sat and watched and waited. And knew the agony of doing nothing. Slowly the crying subsided.”
Rarely do people accomplish great things – or anything,
really – if they are completely alone. Most of us need the stimulation of minds
that we can bounce ideas off of, we need the encouragement that comes from
having someone believe in us and respect us, even if they don’t fully agree. We
need the comfort and familiarity that comes from not just our version of café au lait
and croissants and our comfy chair at home, but also from the embrace and the
acknowledgement of a friend who hears what is unsaid and listens to our souls.
In A TRICK OF THE LIGHT, Clara realizes that Myrna is also such a friend: “[Clara] looked at her friend. The one who’d whispered into the silence. Clara got up. Arisen, she thought. Arisen. And she hugged Myrna.”
As I made my first batch of croissants (they turned out
delicious even if they didn’t look as nice as the pictures in all the online
recipes I looked at), I reflected on how blessed I am to have such friends in
my life. I was, like Jane, “surprised by joy” and feeling very grateful because
I am surrounded by people – online and off – I can share ideas and dreams with.
I spent much of the week making mental lists of friends – and whispering prayers of thanksgiving – and
remembering the cafes, bakeries, and little bistros in my own city that hold
more meaning because of the conversations that have taken place there. Most
encounters aren’t set up with a specific agenda and rarely are they as emotionally
charged as Jane’s conversation was.
Sometimes the setup is my own living room and, not infrequently, it’s
through the convenience of online conversation.
Actually, this project wouldn’t exist if it hadn’t been for
a friend who listened to the daydream and prodded me into believing it could be
enjoyably done.
There is magic in friendship. And in croissants.
I didn’t forget about the coffee. But the coffee deserves a
post that is all its own.
All Quotes are from
Louise Penny – Still Life, except the last, which is from A Trick of the Light.
I checked out a few
recipes – most similar – and this one is basically what I made: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/croissants/
