The Red Cardinal

Another school break, another week without posting, writing, or note-taking of any kind.Some mothers out there manage to do it all, I know that for a fact.

Sadly, I am not one of them, as may be evident from the somewhat random publishing schedule on this site.

As soon as the children are home for a prolonged period, I am out of commission as a human, it would seem.    

I have been thinking about that a lot lately, maybe because we haven’t had a proper, undisturbed family vacation in what seems like months.

At least when we have fun somewhere I can justify not being at my desk at all for a few days or weeks. But when we find ourselves cooped up because of snowstorms, or college applications, or high school competitions, or all of the above, I just seem to get stuck into a goo of sorts, where it’s impossible to think and exist outside of the rhythms of the house.  

Take last week for example. We did manage to go away for a few days and ski in Vermont. In many aspects, it was a much more civilized version of the same trip we took last year. It was a bit warmer, which is not hard to achieve in Vermont. The resort did not shut down two days in a row because of high winds and sub-zero temperatures. We rented an Airbnb instead of staying in a hotel and the teenagers did not need to argue over who was going to sleep in the old creaky pull-out couch with a mattress from 1954. Mainly, we did not need to add college visits to our trip and go on a tour of a future early-decision choice that was not meant to be.           

So, aside the fact that I seem to be getting worse at skiing with every passing year, and that my husband now whizzes by me on every blue slope we find ourselves on, leaving me in an embarrassing state of frustration and rage, we did have four full days of family fun on the slopes. My seven-year-old, who always seemed to hate skiing, or at least to hate ski school, even had a good time. He’s still not skiing parallel after all these years, but at least he can be dropped off in the morning without tears. Small victories.

What am I complaining about, then, might you ask? Well, four days in the snow was nice, but I really could use two weeks in the sun right now. Without any interference from my high school senior’s academic obligations. Between his college tours last year and college applications this year, we thought we were done. But there still was the debates competition in Boston to be accounted for. Otherwise, you would have found me last week on a beach somewhere with a tequila in hand rather than on the icy slopes of Vermont.

I am oh so DONE with this whole college thing. As a European-born mother I truly do not understand it.           

And when you add to these shortened or non-existent breaks a punishing winter and a series of unexpected snow days, you end up with a cranky (hysterical?) mom who wonders why she had so many children in the first place and did not dedicate herself to a life of monastic study within the reassuring confines of university walls, as was the plan when she was eighteen.

The snow day announced this weekend really did me in.

I was already kicking myself for the foolish decision not to enroll my boys in camp upon our return from Vermont. By Friday night I was ready to send the kids to school the next day and have them camp out in empty classrooms without supervision over the weekend.

And then came the fatal text from my high school senior, on Saturday morning.

He was coming home that same night, instead of Sunday evening. The Sunday train was cancelled because of the blizzard that was about to hit New England.

This could only mean one thing: schools would be closed on Monday in the city of New York.

It felt like a bad sequel to a movie we all thought was over for the season. Heck, the week before I had shed my woolen hat and put my ugly puffer jacket back in the darkest corners of my closet, where it belongs. Then it had been over 30 degrees in Stowe, Vermont for two days in a row! How could we be betrayed in this way?

I was frustrated and angry, not to mention out of sorts at the prospect of cancelling all the plans we had on Sunday to celebrate our ten-year-old’s birthday.

Suddenly the weekend looked like a long, shapeless, almost menacing slog and not at all the kind of lazy, warm bubble I enjoyed over Christmas when it was fun to hang out in PJ’s and do crosswords with a mug of warm coffee at ten in the morning.

As you may have guessed, I wasn’t fun to be around, and my reserves of motherly, loving patience were in short supply, just as they were more needed than ever.  

So, there you go. A mother worn-out by winter, and the American college madness, and too many long days spent inside with too many children.

Spring cannot come soon enough. 

And it will. 

Yesterday as I was on my way to pick up my youngest son, crushed on the M86 bus between the door and a pack of kids coming home from their elite Upper East Side private schools, I looked outside – I had no choice, given that my face was crushed against the window - , and there on the highest branch of a tree, was a tiny red bird. It may have been a cardinal; it may have not. In fact, it looked a bit small for a cardinal. But I’m no bird watcher and could not tell you what it was.

All I know is that it suddenly restored my joy, and my hope, the same way a robin did after New Year’s, when we were able to escape for a night in between the last college applications.

This pop of color was all I needed at that moment.  

That, and the kind teenage boy who told me to get on the bus even when it was packed and I had given up on trying to squeeze in. He offered his spot, apparently thinking that I deserved it more. I told him that there might be space for both of us, and there was. We both ended up with our faces splayed against the door, as I mentioned. But we were there. I thanked him and he shrugged, muttering “Sure, you’re good” while staring at his phone. My faith in humanity was restored.

Then I stepped off the bus and walked past our former building. The old porter was still there, clearing the snow.  He remembered me, and all my kids’ names, if not ages. He apologized for the way the doormen had lost a few packages when we moved to France four years ago. A detail that probably infuriated me at the time, but which I had completely forgotten.

Faith in humanity, indeed.

The difference a bird, a kind offer, a smile, someone who remembers, can make.

We need this so much, these days.    

Red birds, and chocolate lava cakes. The kind you make for Valentine’s Day but really should make every weekend if that helps you make it through.

I can’t say I was thrilled to have to cook every night in Vermont after a day of skiing.

But my children licked every last drop of those cakes, and the high school senior declared them the best thing he had ever eaten.          

Again, small victories. Small birds, small cakes. I can’t think of anything more ambitious to do with life right now.       

Chocolate Lava Cakes

By John Kannel, Preppy Kitchen https://preppykitchen.com/molten-chocolate-cake/

Ingredients

• ½ cup unsalted butter (113g)

• 6 ounces bittersweet chocolate chopped (168g)

• 2 large eggs

• 2 large egg yolks

• ¼ cup granulated sugar (50g)

• ⅛ teaspoon salt

• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

Instructions

1.              Preheat the oven to 450F. Butter and lightly flour 6 small ramekins and place them on a baking sheet. Note: Since we were in a rental home when I baked these, I had to make do with the cupcake paper liners I found at the local supermarket. It was messy and not pretty and I do not recommend it, but in a pinch, it works and will not affect the taste of your cakes.

2.              Combine the butter and chocolate in a double boiler and melt over low heat, stirring until smooth. Or (which is easy and quick and what I usually do) place the butter and chocolate in a microwave-safe bowl and microwave on high, stirring every 30-seconds until melted. Whisk together until smooth.

3.              In a large mixing bowl, combine the eggs, egg yolks, sugar, and salt. Beat on medium speed until thick (no mixer at the rental house, a whisk was just fine but took a bit of time and muscle) and pale yellow. Fold the chocolate mixture and flour into the egg mixture until well combined. Divide the batter among the prepared ramekins.

4.              Bake for 6 to 8 minutes or until the sides of the cakes are firm set but the center is jiggly. Do NOT overbake! This is crucial. Let the cakes cool in the ramekins for 1 minute.

5.              Place a small dessert plate over the top of each ramekin and carefully turn it over, inverting the cake onto the plate. Let stand for about 10 seconds, then remove the ramekin to unmold the cakes. Sift powdered sugar on top and garnish with berries, if desired. Serve immediately. I skipped this whole part as cakes were not going to be neatly unmolded from their paper liners. Again, not pretty and not for fancy guests, but absolutely fine for family and real friends.