Literature is often – always? – about change: changing ideas, feelings, relationships, situations. And often such changes are brought about through a change in location. Commonly characters in novels move from one place to another in the course of the story: for example, Caithleen and Baba in Edna O’Brien’s The Country Girls or Eilis in Colm Toibin’s Brooklyn. In both these examples, the characters’ physical journey from provincial Ireland to big cities (Dublin in The Country Girls, New York in Brooklyn) mirrors a personal journey from naivety to experience.
A similar psychological journey takes place in Jessie Burton’s 2014 novel The Miniaturist. At the centre of Burton’s first book is 18-year-old Nella Oortman who, as the narrative begins, has just arrived in Amsterdam from the Dutch countryside to begin her new life as the wife of wealthy merchant Johannes Brandt. It is 1686, towards the end of what is often referred to as Amsterdam’s Golden Age, when the city was at the centre of world-wide travel and trade. The key point for the transportation (by ship) of goods in Europe, Amsterdam was also the leading financial centre of the world.
Young, unformed Nella enters a new and strange world with her marriage to Johannes. Her new husband is distant from her, not offering Nella the physical intimacy she has been told to expect as a wife (the reasons behind this becoming clear as the novel unfolds). As a wedding present he gives her a cabinet-sized replica of their home, the miniature contents of which arrive mysteriously to the house over time, sent by an unknown craftsperson (the miniaturist of the book’s title).
As well as having to come to terms with this strange marriage, Nella also has to get to know the other occupants of the house: the servants – Otto, Johannes’ black manservant, and the maid Cornelia – but, presenting more of a challenge, Marin, Johannes’ sister.
Marin runs the home, not ceding this role to Nella, and the food the household eats is dictated by her. Presented as puritanical and straitlaced, Marin has very different views of food from Nella. When Nella arrives at her new home after a long journey, Marin shows her to her room and suggests she might want to eat there that evening. Nella agrees and ‘taken by the desire for something sweet’ asks if there is any ‘”marzipan”’, a sweetmeat commonly eaten by wealthy Dutch households at this time, and one that Nella is familiar with from her upbringing: ‘There was always marzipan in the pantry, the only predilection for indulgence in which Mrs Oortman echoed her husband. Mermaids, ships and necklaces of sugared jewels, that almond doughiness melting in their mouths.’ When Marin swiftly disabuses Nella of that notion – ‘”No. Sugar is – not something we make much of. It makes people’s souls grow sick”’ – Nella realises her life has irrevocably changed: ‘I no longer belong to my mother, Nella thinks.’
With marzipan dismissed for its sinful properties, Nella is offered instead ‘berenbrood and Gouda’, namely bread and cheese.
The puritanical theme continues the next morning at breakfast where Nella finds set before her ‘A hardened loaf and a slim fish..’. Her disappointment with the food is compounded by the high expectations she had, as promised in a conversation she had with her brother before moving to Amsterdam: ‘”Think of the things you’ll eat, Nella,” her brother Carel had said. “I heard in Amsterdam they scoff strawberries dipped in gold”. Now how little impressed he’d be.’ Ironically, a move to the big city with its accompanying wealth and glamour, has brought about a deterioration in Nella’s diet.
However, all is not lost. A few days later Nella leaves the house with Cornelia to go shopping. The two women stop outside a confectioners’ shop and Cornelia – who is also obviously suffering from the dietary restrictions of the Brandt household – begs her to go in: ‘Nella smells the baking and cannot resist’. Once inside, her journey of edible delights begins: ‘Nella roams the shop, looking over the waffles, the spiced biscuits, the cinnamon and chocolate syrups, the orange and lemon cakes, the fruit rolls’.
From the confectioners’ delightful-sounding offerings, I’ve chosen to make the spiced biscuits to provide Nella with that return to normality and feeling of home she is currently missing. Spiced biscuits, known as speculaas, are a common treat in Christmas in the Netherlands (and in Germany too). It’s not Christmas when the visit to the confectioners takes place but since it’s late autumn, perhaps the shops are getting ready. And since I’m writing this post on the last day of August with the return to school imminent and the onset of autumn, I don’t feel this recipe is too much out of place.
NELLA’S SPICED BISCUITS
Ingredients (makes 12–16):
200g plain flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons cinammon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1 pinch salt
100g soft brown sugar
125g unsalted butter
1 tablespoon water
Beaten egg and flaked almonds for decoration (optional)
Method:
Either place all the ingredients in a food processor and blitz until they come together, or put them in a bowl and knead until well combined.
Shape the mixture into a ball, cover in cling film and place in the fridge for 30 minutes to firm up.
Preheat the oven to 190C / 170C fan / Gas Mark 5. Line two baking trays with greaseproof paper or baking parchment.
Roll out the dough to a thickness of 5mm. Cut out in any shape you like – I used fluted cutters. If you wish, you can brush the tops of the biscuits with beaten egg and sprinkle some flaked almonds over.
Bake for 15-18 minutes and then cool on a wire rack.
