Margaret A & oranges

A is for Atwood. (She's currently traveling the world promoting her latest marvel, Year of the Flood.)

Things have been absurdly full-on lately. 

If we were to describe life as a theatre and us as players, well... suffice to say that just about everyone I know is having a challenging time of it right now. It feels as though we're being repeatedly asked to strip ourselves bare, to question our value systems, inspect old adages and safety nets. At times like this, human impulse can lead us to run for the dressing-up box or the attic room. Or perhaps to dig for answers in the garden. (I've done a bit of each lately.) While this description is in no way adequate for what's happening for people on both an intimate and grand scale right now, it's a tiny indication as to where my head and heart have been lately. (And might explain why my blog posting's been a bit thin on the ground...) 

Last night I stayed up later than I should have, re-re-re-reading Eating Fire. (This is one of several volumes of poetry that live beside my bed. I pull 'Margaret' into bed with me often. She inspires me both to want to write more and to stop writing altogether. Both effects are catalyzing.) 

On a prosaic note, last weekend I made Caramelized Oranges for a birthday banquet (recipe follows at end of post) and mid-mouthful, remembered Margaret's poem Against Still Life. Here it is for your pleasure -

Against Still Life

Orange in the middle of a table:

It isn't enough

to walk around it

at a distance, saying

it's an orange:

nothing to do

with us, nothing

else: leave it alone

I want to pick it up

in my hand

I want to peel the

skin off; I want

more to be said to me

than just Orange:

want to be told

everything it has to say

And you, sitting across

the table, at a distance, with

your smile contained, and like the orange

in the sun: silent:

Your silence

isn't enough for me

now, no matter with what

contentment you fold

your hands together; I want

anything you can say

in the sunlight:

stories of your various

childhoods, aimless journeyings,

your loves; your articulate

skeleton; your posturings; your lies.

These orange silences

(sunlight and hidden smile)

make me want to

wrench you into saying;

now I'd crack your skull

like a walnut, split it like a pumpkin

to make you talk, or get

a look inside

But quietly:

if I take the orange

with care enough and hold it

gently

I may find

an egg

a sun

an orange moon

perhaps a skull; center

of all energy 

resting in my hand

can change it to

whatever I desire

it to be

and you, man, orange afternoon

lover, wherever

you sit across from me

(tables, trains, buses)

if I watch 

quietly enough

and long enough

at last, you will say

(maybe without speaking)

(there are mountains

inside your skull

garden and chaos, ocean

and hurricane; certain 

corners of rooms, portraits

of great-grandmothers, curtains

of a particular shade;

your deserts; your private

dinosaurs; the first

woman)

all I need to know:

tell me

everything

just as it was

from the beginning.

From Selected Poems I: Poems Selected and New 1965-1975 by Margaret Atwood. Copyright © 1987 by Margaret Atwood. Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved. 

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What can one possibly add to that - except, perhaps, a bowlful of bright, syrupy circles...

Here then is the recipe... these last for days in the fridge and are best accompanied by loved ones, jazz and thick Greek yoghurt.

Caramelized Oranges 

8 medium juicy oranges

225gm castor sugar

2 Tblspns Cointreau (or whisky or brandy - alcohol optional) 

* Thinly pare the rind from half the oranges and cut into very thin julienne strips.  

* Place in a small saucepan and cover with water. 

* Cook till tender (5 mins or so). Drain and rinse under cold water.

*  Cut away pith from the oranges, slice into thin rounds and arrange in a serving dish (reserve any juice). 

 

* Place sugar and 300ml water in a heavy-based saucepan. Heat gently till the sugar has dissolved. Bring to the boil and boil till caramel-coloured. (Watch it carefully at this stage as the syrup can change from caramelized to burnt very quickly)

* Remove the pan from the heat, add 3 Tblspns water (there will be much joyous  sputtering). 

* Scatter rind over the oranges and drizzle the caramel syrup into the dish. 

* Chill overnight, or at least for a few hours. 

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For those wondering why I've not been corresponding at my usual rate or via my usual media... All is well; I'll be back in that particular saddle soon.