Brunch ~ Damson Pancakes and Viktor E. Frankl

Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.

~Viktor E. Frankl.

You would be forgiven for raising an eyebrow at this opener. Here you are, reading a recipe published to Vocal's FEAST community, and the opening line is a quote from the founding father of Logotherapy. "Where on earth is this going?" would be a legitimate question.

For those of you who know who Frankl is, you may be up in arms about this start. He was, after all, a Holocaust survivor admonished for advocating what appeared to be Nazi-sympathetic psychology.

Yeah - I can feel every eyebrow rising about now.

I think, for what little my thoughts are worth, that the guy went through absolute hell and learned some stuff. When you strip back the filthy mud of politics, the truth he calls out shines, and today under the cold lights of a Christmas in retail, I feel glimmers of its reach.

Within the fires of our humanity and the disgraceful machinations of our ignorant creation, diamonds of truth are often cut. Though they are stained in blood, is their truth less because of the brutality of their provenance? Does provenance matter? Can we rinse off horror to reach purity? Is there any respectful way to do that?

Perhaps I should have ignored this quote when it popped up on Facebook earlier. I don't know. I think about this as I write. I shall ruminate further on this today and for a long, long while after. I believe there is a purpose in that. As I write these words, I am struck by the irony that logotherapy is all about finding meaning in difficult times.

Anyway, it is Christmas out there. It is the most wonderful time of year for many people - or so the song goes. I run a large food shop, and I am tired. Today, as I looked at my daily Key Performance Indicators, I saw that every one of them is doing well. I am doing well. Thank goodness. I am tough on myself. Come hell or high water, I will ensure that my Community gets everything they want for Christmas. Nobody's child will go without on my retailing watch. My child included. Not only have I stacked the shelves and collected for charity, I have decked the halls, baked pies, decorated a tree, swung a wreath onto the door, started on the card writing, and shopped for Santa to bring in all the festive glory!

I am BRINGING IT!

Then...

Today, I found myself retreating from social media. "Sorry, team", I said to my Vocal Social Society buddies, "Got too much going on - don't want to let anyone down, so I had best leave a while. Can't even write!"

Then...

As I answered my third call of the day and checked my umpteenth message from work (I am day off), I realised... what am I doing? All of this is responding to a stimulus. It is my day off. Choice - I have a choice - in that choice, there is freedom. Choose Caroline, Choose. Sure, my job is important, and my family is everything, but my work team is brilliant, and my family is at school and work. They have got this.

Stop and choose! Come on - you deserve some growth and freedom, too!

So, I chose... and I chose this...

I made pancakes for my brunch.

I do this a lot, to be honest, but only when the waters are calmer. Recently, I have been eating toast (shop-bought bread) or cereal (packet stuff). Life is so fast right now... the speed of it is sanding away those glorious respite moments of "me" time.

I don't want a spa day. I don't want retail therapy (that may send me over the edge, to be honest). I want to eat great food, sit beside my beautiful dog, and type for a while. I don't have the headspace to dig into my novel: that would be too consumptive; I haven't got enough creativity inside me right now. I do miss it. But... I do have the ability to put down my phone, to consider what I would like to eat, to write something, to think about something meaningful, to share something. I can do all of this. I can choose to do this today. Tomorrow may be full of a zillion customers to make happy for Christmas, but today, there is just me, the dog, pancakes and a soupcon of food for thought.

This makes me happy.

In the back of my fridge is a jar of Damson compote. I made it a few weeks ago from a windfall of damsons from my parent's garden. It is winter now. The skeletal trees outside, the mud-churned grass scarring the meadows, and the sea of neighbour's Christmas lights flashing forced heartbeats through the insipid grey drizzle all reinforce the season at hand. My little jar of Damson compote reminds me and returns me to softer times. Its earthy, plumy nostalgia notes are rich in the melancholy of an easy autumn. I spread it on my crepe-style pancakes and drizzle a little honey over the top, smiling to myself as I remember my son's comment, "It's a little flavourful this damson spread, Mummy," as he pushed it away. He was right; it is a little flavourful and not for a child's palate. Those who comment on such topics as flavour probably would likely call it "bold". I enjoy its depth, but still, I indulge my sweet tooth and add a swirl of honey to soften the edges. I think of him as I prepare it.

Then I think... I shall share this moment. I haven't written anything in ages. I take a picture of my pancake quickly, switching on the lights to warm the cold grey of the leach-like wintery day, and I sit at my kitchen table, roll up the pancake, break it into two halves and scoff it in a matter of seconds. It is sublime. Just what I needed. Delicate, smooth, toasty in places where it has caught the pan, crispy at the edge, warm and deeply autumnally flavourful with light floral succulent summery notes gifted by the honey.

I follow with a hot cup of freshly brewed breakfast tea and look forward to writing this. Although... I wonder how I will navigate the Frankl quote that inspired me.

Mmmmmm....

With Love,

CJ. xxx

P.S. The additional irony that the Frankl quote was an inspirational stimulus has not passed me.

***

My Pancake (Crepe) Recipe:

1 1/2 cups strong bread flour sifted

pinch of salt

3 medium eggs

1/2 to 3/4 pint milk.

Method:

Pour flour and salt into a bowl. Add eggs and milk and whisk (you may need to add more milk or a little less - the consistency will be thin, almost milk-like). Rest for an hour unchilled - chill if longer (max 12 hours). Grease a frying pan with butter (traditional) or vegetable oil. Max heat. Once the oil is hot, ladle enough batter to cover the base thinly - approximately 2mm depth. Turn the heat down to half after 30 seconds. Leave until the top is dry. Pry from edges and flip. Fry the other side until lightly golden all over. Serve with whatever topping choice makes you happy!

Makes around 4 - 6.

Damson Compote - Recipe and Method:

Boil Damsons, water and sugar. Amounts vary on the tartness and quantity of your damsons. The way to know how much of each is to keep tasting, but roughly, the water should come halfway up the fruit when it is in the pan. You are not making jam, so no thermometer is needed. Boil until the seeds come out of the fruit. Fishing the stones out is a pain - there is not a generous fruit-to-stone ratio like there is with plums and apricots, so you get a lot of stones for the amount of jam. Consider it therapeutic. Taste and adjust for sweetness as you go. Decant into sterilised jars, and it will last a couple of months in a fridge. It is also great swirled into an apple crumble filling - or with a Lancashire cheese crumbled and toasted. It is versatile.