Volume 2, No. 4: Auto-Buy Authors + Chocolate, Tahini Caramel & Halvah Tart

Greetings, book-eaters and treat-lovers! A bunch of you found your way here because of my guest recommendation in What To Read If: welcome! It’s February! My love for February isn’t quite as fierce as my love for January, but it’s still winter, so I’m not complaining. And despite my enduring delight in all things cold, dark, and grey, I do love how bright and sparkling the light is this time of year.

When I say auto-buy, what I really mean is: I will read anything these authors write. I’ve recommended books by Akwaeke Emezi (here and here) and Alexis Hall (here) before, so I even have proof! Both Kai Cheng Thom and Akwaeke Emezi have incredible range, and that’s part of why I’m willing to follow them both anywhere. Fiction, nonfiction, poetry, fantasy, kidlit, YA…no matter what they write, it’s guaranteed to be surprising, challenging, and new. As for Alexis Hall…well, when you find an author whose books consistently make you laugh so hard you start gasping for breath, causing your dog to give you worried looks…you read every book that author writes.

The Books

Backlist: I Hope We Choose Love (Essays, 2019) and Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars (Fiction, 2016) by Kai Cheng Thom

I haven’t recommended any of Thom’s books here before, and it was impossible to choose just one, so I’ve got two short reviews of two incredible books.

I Hope We Choose Love is a wonderful book of essays about the messy, complicated, far-from-perfect realties of queer communities, especially queer and trans communities focused around art and social justice. Thom reflects on the contradictions inherent in living and working in communities made up of messy humans with different needs and opinions. She writes about how community can save people, and also how communities can be sites of violence and harm. There are essays about accountability, abuse, what radical justice can look like, how we talk about suicide, the ways queer justice moments often fail trans people, the role of art in movement building.

It’s a beautiful blend of rigorous analysis and powerful storytelling. Every essay is personal. She pours herself into the book. But she also asks questions about her experiences and what they mean, about how her stories fit into a larger story. All of Thom’s work is like this: vulnerable, but full of seeking. She has a particular talent for articulating complicated experiences she’s had—a breakup, a hard conversation—and spinning them outward into the world.

This book isn’t a map. Thom doesn’t offer easy solutions. But she does offer visions, imaginings of what whole and flexible queer and trans communities could look like. One thing I’ve come to expect and appreciate in Thom’s writing is her directness. She doesn’t sugarcoat anything. This isn’t a book about how glorious it is to be queer or to be an artist, though there is deep joy in both. It’s about the painful, exhausting, in-progress reality of queer and trans lives.

Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars feels similar, in many ways, to Thom’s nonfiction. It has the same energy, the same heartbeat pulsing through it, the same shimmer of anger and hope. It’s a weird, brilliant, exuberant, devastating coming of age story about an Asian Canadian trans girl who runs away from home and finds community in the big city among a group of trans women and femmes. It’s written as a fictional memoir, but not a conventional one. Thom’s writing is poetic. The story never goes where you think it will. There are bits of magic. It sometimes reads almost like a fairy tale. But unlike some fairy-tale-like books, this one is deeply steeped in the realities of this world, and in queer and trans love, family, struggle, pain. Part of its brilliance is that you’re never quite sure where you are — the narrative is constantly surprising.

One of my favorite things about Thom’s writing is her honesty, the way she openly explores all the nuances of transness, of queer family, of making art. She does it in her nonfiction and she does it here, too. There is danger and magic, deep connection and deep hurt, mistakes and tenderness, all intertwined. The audiobook is especially good.

I also adore Thom’s poetry collection, A Place Called No Homeland.

boy, you got to love the girl in the boy in the girl in the boy in you in you in you. delicious heart, refuse to forget. you got to remember that your heart is not a clenched fist your heart is not a bruised face your heart is a mango full to bursting with sunlight oh sticky heart, smooth substance, there is joy in your aching, refuse to surrender the memory of your flavor. you got to forgive yourself for hurting.

(From ‘girlboy, you femme femme fabulous’)

Frontlist: Something Fabulous by Alexis Hall (Historical Romance)

I started laughing on maybe the third page of this and I did not stop. If you’ve read any of Alexis Hall’s romances, you know they are usually silly. This queer Regency-era romp is the silliest of silly. The silliest that ever sillied. How can I explain this so you’ll understand? Imagine if Silly and Absurd and Ridiculous all fell in love and made a baby named Duke Fluffiest That Ever Fluffed and then Duke Fluffiest That Ever Fluffed grew up and fell in love with Sir Overdramatic of the Extremely Campy and Very Loud Overdramatics and they had a baby…that baby might be this novel.

If I’ve lost you, this book is probably not for you. If I haven’t lost you, you’re probably going to want to pick it up immediately. If you need more convincing, I don’t think I can do better than Hall himself, who describes it on Goodreads as a book about “a overly dramatic beautiful rainbow sunshine unicorn + a overly dramatic demisexual grumpy duke, going on a cross-country chase.”

Valentine, the Duke of Malvern, is attempting to carry out his dead father’s wishes to marry his childhood friend Arabella Tarleton. But when he finally proposes, in a decidedly unromantic manner, she is not impressed, and runs away. Her twin brother, Bonny, insists that Valentine find Arabella and make it up to her with an appropriately swoon-worthy do-over proposal. So Bonny and Valentine set out on a road trip across England which consists of more hilarious banter than is probably healthy. Also a lot of feelings. And misadventures with bees. Also some badass sapphic ladies, a lot of yelling, an ill-advised duel, endless curricle trouble, in-depth discussions about Gothic heroes, and SO MANY DRAMATIC SIGHS. There are maybe two straight people? That’s right: a book-obsessed romantic optimist and an extremely grumpy and often befuddled duke spend a week traveling all over 19th century England and encounter only queer people. One of them is named Sir Horley Comewithers. What else do you need to know?

I love romances with a lot of heart and a lot of angst, and this book has both. There are some poignant scenes and some tender, heartfelt moments. It is not exclusively fluff. It’s also about loneliness and finding your people and how scary it is to be seen. Valentine, a rich duke who’s never been happy in his life, learns a lot about power and anger and sexism and the space he takes up in the world and how it affects other people. Valentine and Bonny’s interactions are 90% banter, but the other 10% are hard, revealing, vulnerable conversations. But, all that said—the serious stuff isn’t too serious, because this novel, truly, is the silliest of silly, and knows it, and wants you to know it, too.

Upcoming: Bitter by Akwaeke Emezi (YA Fiction, Knopf, 2/15)

This novel is a prequel to Pet, though you obviously don’t have to read that one first. Pet is my least favorite of all Emezi’s books, and one thing I really appreciate about this book is the way it deepened my experience of that one. Bitter and Pet have a lot in common—they’re both about teenagers fighting injustice, queer community, and monsters. They both read a bit like fables, although Bitter is more grounded in the familiar. Perhaps this is because Pet is about the hidden violences of utopia, whereas Bitter is about a world like ours: cruel, overtly racist, exploitative.

After spending most of her childhood moving between foster families, Bitter has finally found a place that feels like home at Eucalyptus, a boarding school for creative teenagers. And while most of her friends are involved with Assata, the revolutionary group fighting against the unjust and oppressive government of the city of Lucille, Bitter just wants to stay where she feels safe and focus on her art. But then she calls a monstrous angel out of one of her paintings, and she has no choice but to get involved.

This is a simple story about a teenager finding her voice and learning that there are many ways to create change, many ways to start a revolution. I’m not saying there isn’t nuance in this. There is. Bitter has to confront the fact that there are rarely easy solutions to big problems, that nobody is simply one thing or another, that vengeance and rage are often mixed up with healing, kindness, and love. She’s a wonderfully rich character who experiences a lot of growth and change and turmoil over the course of the book, which isn’t long.

It’s just that there is very little here that’s hiding. There’s not a story underneath the story. The story is about the power of community and the limitations of community. It’s about burnout and healing and second chances. It’s about taking the time to find your strength, and then using it. Emezi just lays it all out in plain sight. You don’t have to go looking for the themes. They’re right there, tumbling out of Bitter’s mouth, and the mouths of her friends, and the members of Assata. It’s starkly different from a book like The Death of Vivek Oji, which is blurry and messy and still not obvious to me at all, though I think about it all the time (it’s my favorite Emezi so far).

This is why I’ll read everything Emezi writes. They do so many things so well: beautiful, simple, coming-of-age stories about revolutionary Black girls finding their power. Romances that mess with romance conventions. Memoirs told in letters that feel more like poems. Novels that create new ways of storytelling. Bitter is one of those reads that just flows along, easily and perfectly. It didn’t shake up my brain in the way some of Emezi’s books do, but why should every book shake up my brain?

If you listen to audiobooks, Bahni Turpin narrates this one and she’s a vocal genius. It’s out on February 15th and you can preorder it here.

The Bake

One of the fun consequences of Cookie Extravaganza is that I end up with all sorts of delicious leftover tidbits in my fridge: candied orange peel, spiced eggnog filling, cranberry curd, tahini caramel…all of these delights just sit there waiting for me to do something yummy with them, and, this past weekend, I did. This tart looks complicated but it’s really not. Yes, it has a few components, but none of them are difficult, and they all last a while. If you make them ahead of time, assembling the final product only takes a little while. And it’s wroth it. This is a luscious, luxurious tart.

Chocolate, Tahini Caramel & Halvah Tart

This sort of tart is traditionally made with a sweet shell (aka pate sucrée) but I made my standard savory pie crust instead because it’s the easiest, easiest, easiest. (The formula I use hasn’t changed in years: 2 cups flour, 1 cup fat. I’m forever grateful to my first love for the recipe.)

The tahini caramel recipe is from Sweet by Yotam Ottolengthi and Helen Goh (auto-buy authors!) It’s become my go-to caramel, and I use it in just about everything. See also: Tahini Caramel Cookies.

Ingredients

For the crust:

• 2 sticks (16 Tbs/227 grams) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

• 240 grams (2 cups) all-purpose flour

• pinch of salt

• 2-4 Tbs ice water

For the tahini caramel:

• 200 grams (1 cup) sugar

• 1/2 cup (120 ml) water

• 7 Tbs (100 grams) unsalted butter, at room temperature, cubed

• 1/3 cup (80 ml) cream

• 150 grams (1/2 cup + 1 Tbs) tahini

• 1/4 tsp flaky salt

For the ganache:

• 5 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped

• 5 ounces (2/3 cup) heavy cream

To finish:

• 60 grams halvah, crumbled (No need to measure, really)

• Sesame seeds, for sprinkling

• Flaky sea salt, for sprinkling

Make the crust: Put some cold water in a bowl with ice and set aside. In a mixing bowl, combine the flour, salt, and butter with your fingertips. To keep the dough from getting too warm, dip your fingers in the ice water every now and then. Mix until it resembles coarse sand (some larger chunks of butter are okay). Add the water a little bit at time, mixing with your fingertips between each addition. When the dough mostly holds together, dump it on the counter and knead it a few times to gather into a ball. Flatten into a disk, wrap with plastic wrap, and stick it in the fridge. (You can do the mixing in a food processor.) (You also don’t have to chill it. This dough is so forgiving; I’ve rolled it out hundreds of times without chilling.)

Blind bake the crust: On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough into a 12-14” circle. You want it to be fairly thin, but don't worry about it too much. Drape it over a 10” tart pan and gently mold the dough into shape, making sure to press gently into the creases along the edges. Trim the excess, but leave about 1” of overhang. Prick the bottom all over with a fork.

Butter the shiny side of a piece of aluminum foil and press it over the dough. Line with pie weights, dried beans, or rice. Bake at 400 for 30-35 minutes, until golden. Let cool completely on a wire rack. Trim the excess to create an even top.

Make the caramel: Measure out the butter, cream and tahini and set aside. Place the sugar and water in a small saucepan over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until the sugar dissolves. Increase the heat to medium-high and bring to a steady boil. Let boil for about 10 minutes—you’ll know the caramel is ready when it turns a deep, rich amber color. Remove from the heat and add the butter and cream. It’ll splutter and sizzle, so be careful. Whisk to combine. Once the butter has melted, stir in the tahini and salt. Let cool slightly before using.

Make the ganache: Put the chopped chocolate in a small heatproof bowl. In a small pan, heat the cream over medium heat until warm, but not boiling. When you see small bubbles appear around the edges of the pan, give it a few more minutes, and then pour it over the chocolate. Whisk until the chocolate is melted and the ganache is smooth and shiny.

Assemble: Unmold the tart from the pan (if you want) and place it on a serving plate. Pour the ganache into the cooled shell. Let cool (either in the fridge or at room temp), until mostly firm. Pour the caramel on top and spread evenly. Let cool 10-12 minutes, until mostly firm but not completely set. Scatter the crumbled halvah, sesame seeds, and flaky salt on top. Put the whole tart in the fridge and let set for 2-3 hours before slicing and eating.

The Bowl and The Beat

The Bowl: Lemony Shrimp & Chickpea Stew

I slow cooked a pot of chickpeas during the storm last weekend, and have been slowly transforming them into different kinds of magic. This is one of the most delicious magics. I was inspired by an NYT Cooking recipe (this one if you subscribe), but veered off in a different direction. I can’t get over how perfect it is.

In a small bowl, combine a pound of peeled shrimp (tails removed), the zest of two lemons, a big pinch of Aleppo pepper, a teaspoon paprika (whichever kind you like best), 2-3 pressed garlic cloves, and some salt and pepper. Toss to coat the shrimp. In a medium pot, melt a big hunk of butter (3-5 tablespoons, don’t be shy). Add the shrimp and cook until pink and just starting to curl. With a slotted spoon, transfer the shrimp back to the bowl. Set aside.

Slice an onion and add it to the pot. Dice 2-3 small potatoes and add those. Cook until the onion is soft and glistening, 10-15 minutes. Add ~3 cups cooked chickpeas (I didn’t measure! Two cans is probably the right amount), 2 cups stock (chicken, veg, whatever), and some salt and pepper. Let bubble away over medium-high heat until slightly thickened, another 5-8 minutes. You can add some more water or stock if necessary. Remove ~2 cups of the stew (I ladled some into a pyrex measuring cup) and, using an immersion blender or regular blender, puree until smooth. Return the puree to the pot, along with the cooked shrimp, the juice of two lemons, and a big handful of chopped parsley. Serve with lots of grated Parmesan and some crusty bread.

The Beat: Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao, read by Rong Fu

Ever since the pandemic started I’ve been struggling to read sci-fi and fantasy. I haven’t stopped reading it entirely, because I love it so, so much, but I’ve been reading a lot less of it than normal. I know, it’s weird. Most readers I know have leaned heavily into SFF these past two years. I’ve been leaned heavily into intense contemporary fiction! But I miss SFF a lot, and I’ve even been craving straight-up sci-fi recently, which hasn’t happened since pre-covid times. I’m hoping it means my brain is finally ready to embrace magic and aliens again I started listening to this today, and, shockingly, my brain is bouncing pretty hard off the sudden immersion into a different world. But I’m going to stick with it because I’ve heard great things! I am ready!

The Bookshelf

The Visual

The saga of Constantly Rearranging My Bookshelves continues! I had to make room on my big TBR shelf for my birthday book haul, so I decided to make a separate shelf of all my owned-but-unread books by Indigenous authors. I’m excited to read all of these, but I’m especially looking forward to Eden Robinson’s Trickster Trilogy (Monkey Beach is one of my all-time favorites) and Fresh Banana Leaves by Jessica Hernandez, which just came out.

Around the Internet

On Book Riot I rounded up some queer graphic novels and memoirs I’m looking forward to this year.

The Boost

Look, this is silly and frivolous, but my aunts sent me a puzzle from this puzzle company for my birthday, and it is the most gorgeous and miraculous puzzle I have ever done. I mean. The pieces. What beautiful indulgence.

As always, a little bit of beauty to send you on your way: January is the brightest month. I will miss it.

And that’s it until next week. Catch you then!