Volume 1, No. 42: Give Me Joy + My Grandma's Pepperkaker
Volume 1, No. 42: Give Me Joy + My Grandma's Pepperkaker
Greetings, bookish friends! Today’s newsletter is the last regular edition of 2021. Since I launched Books & Bakes in March, I’ve reviewed 114 books and shared 38 recipes! That’s a lot of books and bakes! If you joined me sometime in the last few months, you can always find old newsletters in the archives. If you enjoy this newsletter and want to be support me by subscribing, you can do that here.
A big thank you to everyone who’s filled out my reader survey so far (and it’s not too late)! I’ve loved hearing what you enjoy about the newsletter and what you’d like to see more of. Knowing how much so many of you appreciate my reviews is inspiring—so thank you for coming along on this queer bookish journey with me! I’m already exited about 2022.
I think at one point I said something about how I wasn’t going to recommend more than one book by the same author. Well, I’ve decided that was a very silly thing to say. I’ve written about the work of two of these authors before, and why not? They’re brilliant. Beyond that, I don’t have much to say about this week’s theme. I wanted to close out the year with books that feel like celebrations. Books that are loud with joy. Books about people and characters who reach out and grab joy with insistent, eager hands.
But first, of course: cookies!
The Books
Backlist: Blood, Marriage, Wine & Glitter by S. Bear Bergman (Essays)
Partway through this gorgeous book of essays about queer family, parenting, intimacy, and much, much more, Bear inserts a short, two-page passage addressed directly to the reader. Or, rather, addressed directly to one kind of reader. I read this book years ago, and I remember exactly where I was when I read this passage. I remember where I was sitting (in the shade under the mimosa tree at my old house), and what kind of day it was (sunny and hot). I remember the jolt that passed through me when I realized he was talking directly to me. “Hi,” he starts. And then he says:
Right now I’m talking to the person who is reading this thinking, “I want that, or some parts of that, and it feels like there’s no way I can ever, ever have it.” I want to validate that feeling. But I also need to tell you: you can have it.
He goes on to give some warm, comforting practical advice about reaching out even when it’s hard, about finding your people, about remembering you are worth it even when it doesn’t feel that way. And then he says:
Okay. There’s more to come about parents and friends and hot times and hard times and my kid, too….Take a break if you need to. But come back. Please.
I didn’t take a break from the book, even though I wanted to, because it was sometimes so hard to read about something that felt so familiar to me and yet so far away. I read the whole thing and felt seen by it. And I felt so alone, reading it. All Bear’s beautiful words about queer love and queer intimacy, about messy queer families made of friends and lovers and aunties and children, all his fierce insistence on queer and trans joy—all those marvelous, miraculous words crept inside me and took hold, slipped into my bloodstream, my muscles, my throat. I sat with it.
And here I am, years later, writing this sort-of-review, thinking about the places and people and joys I have now that I did not have then. Thinking about the connections I’ve nurtured and the loves I’ve found and the queer family I’ve built, slowly, the hard way. I am still in progress—we are all in progress—but the life I’m creating now is full and hilarious and tender and whole. It’s the kind of life I yearned for back when I first read this book, when I was certain, despite Bear’s gentle insistence (“bravery is feeling your fear and doing the hard thing alway”), that I would never find the courage to grab my joy.
“I too was in your spot once,” Bear writes. “I can draw a direct line from that barren place to this fecund one, and so can you. You can.”
I drew that line. I’m still drawing it. This book is part of it. For me, it’s a sacred text about queer family and queer joy. It’s an absolutely beautiful read no matter who you are, but I’m most grateful that it’s out in the world for everyone who, like me, badly needed it at some point in their life.
Frontlist: The Witch King by H.E. Edgmon (YA Fantasy)
This is a book that gave me a lot of joy. It’s a fun, queer, witchy romp, full of found family, with a fast-moving plot and a lot of snarky humor. But it’s also about a character who’s determined to find his own joy, no matter what.
Wyatt is a trans witch who fled the fae kingdom of Asalin where he grew up after losing control of his magic and causing a terrible fire. Asalin is ruled by the fae, and witches have always been considered less-than. Wyatt was engaged to his best friend, the fae prince Emyr. Their marriage was supposed to be a political union that would bring some peace to the whole kingdom. But the fire changed all that, and Wyatt fled.
He’s made a good life for himself in the human world. He has an adoptive family who loves him. He’s come out as trans. He has a best friend in his sister, Briar. He doesn’t miss the fae kingdom or Emyr, and he’s certainly not planning on revisiting the traumas of his past. That is, until Emyr shows up looking for him. Apparently things are still a mess back in Asalin, and Emyr wants Wyatt to come back and renew their betrothal. Wyatt agrees, reluctantly. Back in Asalin, he’s forced to confront his past and his feelings for Emyr, and he’s soon caught up in the rebellion brewing among the witches of the kingdom.
I could say a lot about this novel. It’s full of complicated politics. Characters argue about the best way to start a revolution, and to make change. They don’t always agree. They make different decisions with different consequences; there’s a lot of moral ambiguity. In the midst of all this, Wyatt is trying to figure out his place in a world that rejected him. He’s trying to determine if he wants to forgive Emyr—if he even wants to live in the fae world again (probably not). It’s a messy, painful process. On top of all that, there are lots of magical adventures and a satisfying second-chance romance.
But what I love most about this novel is Wyatt. He’s so angry. Of course he’s angry! He grew up in a world that despised witches, with a family that didn’t see him for who he was. He’s angry, and he’s also proud. He loves his transness and his queerness and he wants to shout about it to anyone who will listen, and while he’s at it, he wants to tell you all about the violence of cissexim and racism and what you can do about it! I love characters like this in YA, teenagers who get to be all the contradictory things, who sound whiny sometimes, because sometimes teenagers are pretty whiny. Wyatt is all the things—he’s angry and passionate, selfish and hurting. He cares deeply about his friends. He’s protective, loud, and cynical. I loved getting to spend time with him, and watch him slowly become even more himself.
I also really enjoyed Charlie Jane Anders’s review of this book.
Upcoming: You Made a Food Out of Death With Your Beauty by Akwaeke Emezi (Romance, Atria, 5/24/2022)
While I was reading the first few chapters of this book I kept thinking, “really?” Everything about it felt off. The pacing. The romance. It all felt strangely lackluster. It did not feel like I was reading an Akwaeke Emezi novel. It felt trite and easy and predictable, like a romance with the life cut out of it. But I kept going, because Emezi usually surprises me. I was counting on them to do it again, and they sure did.
A few chapters in, the main character, Feyi, takes a trip to a small island nation, and everything changes. I don’t want to tell you anything about the plot, and I’d actually suggest avoiding the marketing copy, as well. It’s not that there are any spoilers in it. It’s just that Emezi does something really interesting with the structure of the book that only works if you don’t know where the book is going. The writing mirrors the plot. When the plot comes alive, the writing comes alive. When Feyi comes alive, the writing comes alive. The book is a messy journey, and Emezi writes that journey into the structure. It moves from lackluster to burning, from dull to wildly alive, from quiet to blazingly loud.
I will tell you that it’s a book about grief, and finding connection in aloneness. Feyi is an artist living in Brooklyn who is just starting to date again five years after the car accident that killed her husband. It’s a book about going forward, especially when you don't want to go forward, and grabbing joy, even when that joy is surrounded by thorny complications. It’s extremely queer, in this very quiet, lovely way. I love M/F romance novels with two queer leads, and this is one. It’s also full of queer side characters. There isn’t a single white character in the book, either. There is basically no racism in it, and very little homophobia, and yet for all that, it doesn’t feel like a fantasy. There is a lot of painful reckoning. But it’s also a book full of raucous joy. It’s unabashedly celebratory—of Blackness, queerness, sex, food.
The pacing is perfect. Even those chapters at the beginning that I didn’t like turned out to be part of the pacing magic. One the book took off, I couldn’t stop reading. Emezi is an extraordinary writer with incredible range, and they’ve proven it once again with this novel. It feels like a romance only Emezi could have written. I can’t wait to see what genre they decide to mess with next.
It’s not out till May, but you can preorder it here.
The Bake
On Friday you’ll be getting a special newsletter full of cookie ideas, but today, for my last recipe of the year, I wanted to share something that brings me a lot of joy: my grandma’s recipe for these simple and delicious spice cookies. I don’t think they’re actually traditional pepperkaker. The recipe I have from my grandma is called ‘Swedish Almond Cookies’. My uncle, who used to make them every year at Christmas, always called them pepperkaker. The internet tells me pepperkaker is a Norwegian shortbread cookie. Most of the recipes I can find for it are similar to the one I make, except mine has almonds. Whatever they are, these cookies are delicious, and pulling out the photocopy of my grandma’s handwritten recipe (you can see the stains on it!) always makes me happy.
My Grandma’s (Maybe) Pepperkaker
I use golden syrup in these instead of the dark corn syrup my grandma used, but other that that, this recipe comes directly from her. I have no idea where she got it. (She also didn't include any weights; I added those in.)
Ingredients:
336 grams (3 1/2 cups) all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking soda
3 tsp ground ginger
2 tsp cinnamon
2 tsp cloves (Have you ever seen a recipe that calls for 2 teaspoons of cloves? These days it’s always 1/4 or 1/2 or 1/8! I love how intense and spicy these cookies are!)
2 sticks (226 grams) unsalted butter, at room temperature
200 grams (1 cup) sugar
1/2 cup golden sryrup
90 grams (1 cup) sliced or slivered almonds
Preheat the oven to 350. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. In a small bowl, mix the dry ingredients.
In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar until well mixed, about 3 minutes. Add the syrup and almonds and mix on low speed. Dump in the flour and mix on low speed until no streaks remain. (“Knead, or anyway mix well” is what my grandma says.) Turn the dough out onto the counter and knead a few times until it holds together. Divide in half and shape each half into a log. Wrap in plastic wrap (wax paper, says my grandma!) and chill for at least an hour. You can also freeze the logs.
Slice into rounds and bake for 8-10 minutes. These get softer as they age, but they last a long time.
The Bowl & The Beat
The Bowl: Kale Caesar
Caesar salad is actually something I really enjoy, but for some reason it’s never occurred to me to make it at home. I’m not sure why, because it’s so easy! A few weeks ago a friend made it for lunch, and I was inspired to give it a try. Now it’s part of my regular lunch rotation. For some reason it feels very fancy. But really it’s just kale, a dressing, croutons, and some cheese.
Crack an egg and separate it. Put the yolk into your salad bowl. Add a few anchovies, some lemon juice (a tablespoon or so), a few good glugs of olive oil, one or two pressed garlic cloves, and some salt and pepper. Mix it all up with a fork until the anchovies are pulverized and the dressing is mostly smooth. Add a pile of chopped kale leaves and toss to coat. Cut a few slices of bread into cubes, drizzle with a bit more olive oil, and broil them for a minute or so. Add them to the bowl. Grate a ton of Parmesan over the top and toss everything again. Yum!
The Beat: Beowulf by Unknown, translated by Maria Dahvana Headley, read by JD Jackson
This is the last in my series of audiobooks I didn’t get around to mentioning while I was listening to them. I cannot express how much I love this book, both the translation and the audiobook. It begins with “Bro!” and just gets wilder and more magical from there. Headley’s translation feels like a living thing. She uses modern language, language that feels familiar, fresh, vivid, and yet also unpredictable and timeless. The audio is only four hours and I found it hard to stop listening. JD Jackson’s narration is unparalleled. His voice is so expressive. It’s full of masculine bravado one moment, fierce anger the next, and tenderness a few minutes later. I read Seamus Heaney’s translation of Beowulf years ago and liked it, but this translation absolutely gutted me. I think about it all the time still. If you think this ancient poem isn’t for you, give this translation a try. It might surprise you.
The Bookshelf
The Visual
One of the first things I did when I unpacked my books in the new house was make this shelf of all-time favorites. These are the books that live in my heart. They are not all joyful books. But this shelf brings me so much joy.
Around the Internet
On Book Riot, I wrote about how December is for comfort reading. And I wrote a little bit about Cookie Extravaganza and my favorite cookbooks (a much more in-depth version of this is coming to you on Friday).
The Boost
2021 is almost over, which means it’s time to start thinking about 2022 calendars! This week’s newsletter is all about joy, and beautiful wall calendars bring me so much joy.
I bought this postcard calendar this year and I can’t wait to hang it/use it!
I cannot express how much joy this animal swimsuit calendar brought me last year.
I love Just Seeds and this calendar looks rad.
As always, a little bit of beauty to send you on your way: December is the season of light. So I’ve been filling my house with light.
That’s it for now! I’ll be back on Friday with the last newsletter of the year—a special edition all about Cookie Extravaganza.