Just under two years ago I wrote a post about Elizabeth Jane Howard’s novel The Light Years, the first novel in a series of five – The Cazalet Chronicles – a family saga spanning three generations and unfolding between 1937 and 1950. The Light Years covers the build-up to the Second World War and – in culinary terms – is a masterclass in the writer’s use of food to locate a story in a particular moment in time.
I’m currently reading the second novel in the series, Marking Time, which was published in 1941. The novel opens in September 1939, with the start of the Second World War, and ends in winter 1941.
As the title of the novel suggests, the book approaches the topic of war from the perspective of those who are waiting for something to happen: in the opening section the characters are waiting for the inevitable declaration of war; then once the war has begun they are waiting for a resolution and for it all to be over.
This sense of waiting is highlighted by Howard’s narrative style. The majority of the novel is narrated from the perspectives of the youngest generation, the teenage daughters of the three sons of William Cazalet (known as the Brig), the head of the family. Polly (daughter of Hugh), Louise (daughter of Edward) and Clary (daughter of Rupert) all find themselves in limbo as a result of the war. Time may be passing, but for them it feels as though it is on hold. Polly is aware that her mother is unwell, but no-one is talking about it; Louise is struggling to begin a career as an actor and is caught up in the beginnings of a relationship with an artist who is away on military service at sea; Clary is in a permanent state of uncertainty about the whereabouts of her father who has gone missing in action. All three girls are in a permanent state of unresolved stasis. As Clary writes in her diary: ‘Is it the war that makes everything so deeply grey? What on earth will change it?‘
The novel opens on 3rd September 1939, the day on which Neville Chamberlain, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, declared war on Germany and communicated that decision to the British public via a radio broadcast. The Cazalet family have gathered together in one room to hear the broadcast, and the novel begins:
Someone had turned off the wireless and, in spite of the room being full of people, there was a complete silence – in which Polly could feel, and almost hear, her own heart thudding. As long as nobody spoke, and no one moved, it was still the very end of peace.
The narrative then shifts back to the day before .. Saturday 2nd September. Howard effectively creates the build up to the announcement with a tension between the characters’ awareness of its inevitability and their desire to defer – or even avoid – it.
And that desire for deferral or avoidance is seen in the focus on food, both its preparation and consumption, which for the characters becomes a way to distract themselves from what is to come. Edward takes his mistress, Diana, to dinner at the Berkeley hotel in London: they drink champagne cocktails and eat caviar and grouse, whilst knowing that this might be the last such meal they enjoy for some time. When Edward arrives back at the family house in Sussex, Home Place, there is more food: ‘roast veal, with Mrs Cripps’ delicious forcemeat balls and paper thin slices of lemon, mashed potatoes and french beans’. The dessert at that evening meal – which is attended by all the adults in the family – is plum tart. Earlier on Saturday Zoe, Rupert’s young wife, had been ‘given the task of picking the quantities of ripe Victoria plums of which there was a glut’, a task which distracts her not only from the inevitable declaration but also from having to both sew with the maiden aunts and to write to her mother with whom she has a problematic relationship. The focus on food is a welcome relief for so many reasons.
I had some plums in my organic box – which is probably why the plum tart jumped out at me. However, having made cherry pie for my last post, and two fruit tarts for previous posts about The Duchess of Malfi and The Woman in White, I thought I would do a variation on a theme and make a plum and marzipan crumble tart. Plums and almonds are a match made in heaven, and the additional work involved in making both a pastry case and a crumble topping seems to me an ideal distraction from either worrying news or unwelcome tasks!
DISTRACTING PLUM CRUMBLE TART
Ingredients (serves 6-8):
250g sweet shortcrust pastry (recipe here)
200g marzipan (shop-bought or recipe here)
5-600g plums, halved and stoned
100ml water
Caster sugar to taste (for the plums)
75g plain flour
25g ground almonds
50g butter
2 tablespoons caster sugar
Method:
Preheat the oven to 200C / 180C fan / Gas mark 6.
Roll out the pastry to line a large greased tart tin (10″ / 26cm). Line the pastry case with a piece of baking parchment (slightly larger than the tin), fill with baking beans (or dried beans, pasta etc) and bake blind for 10-15 minutes. Then remove the parchment and beans and place the tin back in the oven for a further 5 minutes.
In the meantime put the plums in a large saucepan with the water and place over a medium heat. Cook until the plums are softened but still hold their shape (probably about 15-20 minutes). Add sugar to taste.
Remove the pastry shell from the oven. Place the plum halves on it and trickle over about 3 or 4 tablespoons of the plum juice. Chop the marzipan into small chunks and sprinkle it amongst the plums.
Make the crumble by rubbing the sugar into the flour until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Add the ground almonds and caster sugar and mix through. Sprinkle the crumble topping over the plums and place the tart back in the oven for 20-25 minutes until the top is golden and the fruit mixture is bubbling away. Serve warm with cream or vanilla ice cream.
