In my last post I wrote about the value Clare Chambers grants suburban life in her 2020 novel Small Pleasures. Her protagonist, Jean Swinney, unmarried, in her early 40s and living in the suburbs of South East London with her widowed mother, leads a life of routine and duty, punctuated by ‘[s]mall pleasures – the first cigarette of the day; a glass of sherry before Sunday lunch; a bar of chocolate parcelled out to last a week; a newly published library book still pristine and untouched by other hands; the first hyacinths of spring; a neatly folded pile of ironing..’
Whilst Jean is a journalist – a job that might be associated with glamour and excitement – she works on a local paper, the North Kent Echo, primarily writing up recent weddings as well as a regular Household Hints column (dispersed through the novel are many such hints: e.g. To keep your fingers white and soft, dig your nails into the pith of an old lemon skin after completing any dirty jobs at the kitchen sink). Like her life, the job is mundane and routine.
But into this monotony comes a spark of excitement, generated by a short news item in the paper which reports on the findings of a study into parthenogenesis (a natural form of asexual reproduction) which concludes that, as well as happening in certain animal species, it might also be possible in humans. Taking a sensationalist approach, the paper’s sub-editors give the story the headline ‘Men No Longer Needed for Reproduction‘. Unsurprisingly – since the novel is set in 1957 – ‘[t]he result was an unusually large postbag of mostly indignant letters, not just from men.’
In stark contrast to the letters of indignation though, comes one from a Mrs Gretchen Tilbury, from Sidcup (another suburb of South East London) who claims that her own daughter, now aged ten, was conceived and born ‘without the involvement of any man‘.
At the editorial meeting of the paper at which the letter is discussed, Jean, as the only woman present, is considered the best person to investigate the story. The ensuing investigation obviously adds some much needed drama to Jean’s working life. But from the outset it is always about more than that. At their first meeting, Gretchen provides Jean with some key information that makes her story difficult to discredit: ‘Her claim had suddenly become much harder to dismiss, and to Jean’s surprise, she was glad. For reasons that were not just to do with journalist hunger for a good story, she wanted it to be true.’ Jean’s hunger for this seemingly impossible event to have happened suggests a desire for some miracle to enter her life.
And aside from Gretchen’s story – which I obviously don’t want to spoil for you – her incursion into Jean’s life does act as a form of miracle. Through meeting Gretchen and her family – her 10-year-old daughter, Margaret, and her husband, Howard (who didn’t meet Gretchen until after Margaret was born) – Jean’s life is turned upside down. She is given the chance of happiness, friendship and even the possibility of love, things that she believed were no longer her right in a life that has become characterised by duty and habit.
And it is the little details – the small pleasures – involved in getting to know Gretchen and her family that provoke so much delight in Jean: the intimacy inferred by the use of Christian names; Howard offering Jean some of his home-grown rhubarb; an invitation to play badminton with Margaret and her schoolfriend Lizzie. As the Tilburys welcome Jean into their life, so she opens up and expresses a part of her that has lain dormant for years. When Margaret expresses her wish for a comic, Jean immediately buys her one although ‘Spontaneous generosity was a new experience for [her]’. When Margaret responds instinctively, telling Jean ‘You’re nice’, ‘Jean, unpractised at receiving compliments, felt herself blushing with pleasure and surprise’. For Jean ‘It was impossible not to be charmed and flattered by their interest, to blossom and expand in their company and become the interesting woman they thought her.’
The miracle that takes place within Jean is also partly encouraged by food, as Gretchen turns out to be a rather fine baker. Being of Swiss-German origins, Gretchen’s baking has a touch of glamour for Jean whose cooking, as we saw in the last post, comprises hearty basic post-war meals: ‘liver and onions… and a pudding of tinned pears with evaporated milk’; ‘roast heart and mashed swede’; ‘reheated cauliflower cheese’ and ‘mince and potatoes’.
And where baking is concerned, Jean has ‘no time or talent’, whereas Gretchen has both. When Jean is invited to the Tilburys for tea – to coincide with a dress-fitting (Gretchen is also a gifted seamstress) – Gretchen makes ‘little meringues filled with coffee cream and crushed hazelnuts’ and sachertorte – ‘closer and denser than a sponge, more grainy than a cake, with a delicious nutty sweetness and the bitterness of dark chocolate’, Jean’s verdict being ‘I’ve never tasted anything so delicious’. On another occasion Gretchen rustles up a picnic for a trip to visit Howard’s Aunt Edie, providing enough food for ‘ten hungry men. Veal and ham pie, chicken, chopped-egg sandwiches, the infamous spitzbuben, split scones, Aunt Edie’s favourite zopf bread – a Swiss plaited loaf – and tomatoes and plums from the garden’.
The spitzbuben are described as ‘infamous’ because Margaret has already told Jean about them, describing them as ‘jammy biscuits’. Spitzbuben are Swiss / German biscuits commonly eaten over the Christmas period (though in Small Pleasures they’re eaten in late summer). They are simply two crumbly shortbread biscuits sandwiched together with jam, with a shape or hole being cut into the top biscuit so the jam shows through (so not dissimilar to our jammie dodgers). Traditionally ground almonds or hazelnuts are included in the dough, though many recipes I found didn’t include them. Whilst raspberry jam is the traditional filling feel free to experiment: I tried a couple with lemon curd (which I can vouch for) but you could also try other jams or maybe even chocolate spread.
MIRACULOUS SPITZBUBEN
Ingredients (makes 10-12)
150g butter
75g caster sugar
1 egg yolk
140g plain flour
90g ground almonds
Pinch salt
½ jar raspberry jam (passed through a sieve to remove the seeds)
Method:
Begin by melting the butter and sugar in a saucepan over a medium heat. Pour the melted butter into a mixing bowl and allow to cool slightly. Mix in the egg yolk and then the dry ingredients (flour, almonds and salt). Knead the mixture for a couple of minutes to make a smooth dough, then cover and place in the fridge for at least 30 but no more than 60 minutes.
Remove the dough from the fridge and preheat the oven to 180C / 160C fan / Gas mark 4.
Lightly flour a work surface and roll out the dough to a thickness of about 4mm. If you find the dough a little crumbly, just squeeze it together and then roll out again. Using a 6cm cutter cut out approximately 20 rounds. Using a very small cutter, the wide end of an icing nozzle or something else that you have to hand, cut out a circle in the middle of half the dough circles.
Place the biscuits on a lined baking sheet (you may need two) and bake in the oven for 10 minutes.
Remove from the oven, allow to cool and then sandwich together the two biscuit halves using your chosen filling.
Dust the biscuits with sieved icing sugar, bite into one and wait for the miracle to happen.
Those look lovely! And sounds like a great read too.