So many emotions come into focus around a birthday, gratitude being the major one. After all, every year that goes by without a major hiccup is a great year! And I’ve been lucky all my life. Minor hiccups, yes, a few things I’d rather not have experienced, of course, but mostly the sun has shone with brilliance and I have my health, my children, and the bright bud of a granddaughter.
This year, my birthday was extra-wonderful. My daughter Fiona, well into her adult life at 25, called about two months ago to see if she could spend it with me. That meant traveling from Holland, where she lives and works, bringing her work and her boyfriend with her. I said yes, of course. And we’ve embarked on our week together.
Fiona told me the day before my birthday that she would take care of all meals on the big day. True to her word, I was served pastries and coffee for breakfast, baby quiche, pâté and cheese for lunch and, glory of glories, a perfectly roasted and seasoned chicken from a local farm along with green beans and roasted potatoes and carrots for supper. The apple tart that came to the table studded with candles afterwards she made with apples from trees in the garden, and her own pate brisée, crisp as puff pastry.
Her boyfriend was sous-chef, and together they made sure all was perfect, including a surprise dinner guest, my best friend. And they fit all of this into their full-time work schedules.
How life has evolved. I watch these two young people pursue their jobs without missing a meeting or a beat. They’re experts at the juggle, because they both work mostly from home, showing up at their respective offices two days a week.
Of course, I always worked at home. I loved it. Bored? Do some laundry. Sleepy? Take a quick bike ride. Daydreamy? Think about dinner. Deadlines? All work, no sleep until they were met. Simple, straightforward, time-intense.
There was nothing virtual about it, and paper was vital. I sent off kilos of it in the form of manuscripts, articles, letters. FedEx was my courier, fast and efficient (in terms of yesteryear!). I loved handing off those heavy bundles and getting them back weeks later, covered in comments and edits. It required extreme focus to figure it all out, made so much easier with the advent of the post-it. What an improvement THAT was!
Then the personal computer arrived, and I’ll never forget my first one, which was more of a typewriter with a memory and a giant hard drive that took up half my desk. In those days the computer was just for work. Internet wasn’t yet available (except in France where the Minitel allowed us to do virtual research). To communicate we had the phone, but calls were expensive. And so we had letters, and a postal system in France that guaranteed next day delivery to anywhere in the country, and a quick three days elsewhere. I loved writing letters then and receiving them even more. And I have saved almost every single one that came into my mailbox.
As I prepare to move, however, I must face facts. What do I do with them all?
There are treasured communiqués that I still don’t think I can live without. I have every letter my grandmother, born in 1896, who attended little school but wrote often and always offered excellent observations and advice, all of which still feels timely. I have a stack of letters and notes from Julia Child who was a good friend and, during a part of my life, a neighbor in Maine, and a stop on my way to everywhere, in Cambridge. Her letters are affectionate and filled with nostalgia. Letters and drawings from my children, signs of their love and development, seem worth more than gold, and cards from my parents who never missed an event, each of which reflects the year/decade’s trends.
I have many more, as well, punctuations of a moment, a relationship, a phase. And it is wonderful to re-read them. I am shocked at how vivid the memories they evoke are.
As I sort and read, I think about how many letters throughout the ages have given us valuable, amusing, ironic, observant views of times we don’t know, and how much there is to learn from correspondence. And I am putting much of mine in large recycling bags now. Does it matter? Today, all this paper feels like a burden that no one will ever look at, despite the joy it is giving me. But who knows? Years and years hence, when people aren’t writing but thinking their correspondence, could it be a thrill to open a box of hand-written letters, particularly for someone who doesn’t even know how to hold a pen? Not to mention the thoughts the letters contain, the glimpses of another time and civilization.
And photos. Do any of you have the Atlantic Ocean of photos that I have, each one more precious than the next? My solution, thus far, has been to sort and send them to people who will, I think, smile and laugh the way I have, at the colorful memories? But many, I confess, are going the way of the recycling bin.
Does this matter? Is it important to keep a record of our thoughts and correspondences, our images, if we rarely look at them? Are the hours of joy and satisfaction enough to justify the space they take?
Oh, I know, everything can be digitalized. I don’t have the patience or the time to do that. But good catholic that I am, I worry about the bolt of lightning that may strike me for not taking the time and having the patience, for it feels sinful not to keep physical records.
If sinful, I don’t think there is absolution. But maybe there is comfort, and you can provide it. I’m all ears! I would love to hear what you think, as I winnow, sometimes with a heavy heart. Ever pragmatic, am I simply doing what needs to be done or am I killing a part of civilization? (Written without pretension).
Thank you for reading. And here is the roast chicken Fiona made. It is simple, herb-rich, flavorful and I watched her without watching – she picked up a lot during her life here at home, including the tricks of trussing. I couldn’t be more proud!
ROAST CHICKEN HEN WITH LEMON AND THYME
POULET ROTI AU CITRON ET THYM
Chicken is sumptuous no matter how it is prepared, though roasting is one of my favorite ways to prepare it. I always stuff it with several lemon halves, and usually an orange as well, then use those, once the chicken is roasted to squeeze over all the golden pieces – it is extraordinary!
One 3 to 4 pound (1.5-2kg) farm-raised chicken, whole, giblets removed,
at room temperature
Fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 lemon, cut in quarters, lengthwise
1 fresh bay leaf
1 to 2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
1. Preheat the oven to 450ºF (230ºC).
2. Season the cavity of the chicken with salt and pepper, then stuff it with the lemon, the giblets, and the bay leaf.
3. Loosen the skin from the chicken. In a small bowl, mix the oil with the fresh thyme leaves then, reaching carefully under the skin, rub the mixture on the meat. Truss the chicken.
4. Place the chicken in a roasting pan, pour about ½ cup (125ml) water around the chicken then place it in the center of the oven and roast until the chicken is golden and cooked through, for about 1 hour, turning it every 15 minutes so that it sits on its back, two sides, and breast. To test for doneness, pierce the thigh joint with a sharp knife – the juices should run clear. Check to be sure there is a bit of water in the pan throughout the roasting.
5. Remove the chicken from the oven, transfer it to a cutting board with a trough around the edges, and sprinkle it lightly with salt. Turn it on its breast-side, angled so the feet are above the head end, and let it rest for at least 20 minutes.
6. Meanwhile, add a bit of water to the roasting pan and place it over medium heat. Deglaze any carmelized bits from the bottom of the roasting pan and, as juices run from the chicken, add them to the pan. Cook the juices until they are homogeneous and you have about ¼ cup (60ml).
7. Cut the chicken into serving pieces. Squeeze the lemon over the chicken, pour any deglazed cooking juices over it and serve, with the giblets.
4 to 6 servings
