Professor Butter Beard and Monet’s “The Road to Giverny in Winter”
“After the sorts of winters we have had to endure recently, the spring does seem miraculous, because it has become gradually harder and harder to believe that it is actually going to happen. Every February since 1940 I have found myself thinking that this time winter is going to be permanent. But Persephone, like the toads, always rises from the dead at about the same moment. Suddenly, towards the end of March, the miracle happens and the decaying slum in which I live is transfigured.” ― George Orwell, “Some Thoughts on the Common Toad”
It's the last day of winter. Tonight, we will celebrate the sabbat of Ostara. The Spring Equinox will bring night and day again equal in length, and gracefully following this, the light will grow deliciously longer than the darkness. Once again we crack the windows open ever so slightly overnight and wake to birdsong and a breeze smelling sweetly of damp earth and chimney smoke. Nellie and I will walk again at daybreak, and both stop on a dime to notice the first snowdrop flowers stretching their stems to bloom above the last of the winter’s snow.
Winter always seems to exit with one last laugh. Last week’s nor’easter rushed in with biting winds and dancing snowflakes that whitened the air and then fell to cover our morning path. It reminded me immediately of Claude Monet’s “The Road to Giverny in Winter.” This painting, among all of his, leaves me with a magical impression. I believe it is the way Monet painted a pink sunrise with warm highlights poking through the winter chill. Leave it Monet to see the beautiful warmth in the coldness of winter.
Monet did about 140 paintings of snow, but they represent just a fraction of his work. “The Road to Giverny in Winter” is from Monet’s mid-career, painted in 1885, before the extreme abstraction of his late style, but with the abundance of radiant color as developed by the early French Impressionists. There are several contrasting rich textures created with varying styles of brushstrokes and the blurriness in the foreground has been interpreted as an icy wind.
He unifies the scene with his masterful understanding of winter blues. There are gray blues, powder blues and green blues. Some of the darkest blues and purples represent tree trunks and limbs, anchoring us to the earth. Overall, his blue is mostly a soft blue, but it is so well modulated with the warmth of the pinks, the greens, the purples, rusty reds and golds.
We are drawn into the center towards the warmth of the gold. We follow Monet’s path into Giverny, the village he lived in from 1878 until his death in 1923. It’s where he created his soul-fed ponds and nurtured the lily pads which gave rise to his most famous paintings. Julie Schauer writes, “He placed this village in the center of the painting and painted its buildings yellow gold, appropriate because Giverny was a place of warmth where he found his center, his life.” The warmth of the village meets its match in the more subtle golds of the sky. There, it takes on radiance, a brightness and brings with it a new dawn.
I prefer Monet’s later paintings of winter. Although, I did include his “The Magpie” in my collection of holidays cards sent this past season. It is a masterpiece of Monet’s early style, actually more Realist than Impressionist. And the brightness of the white almost makes me reach for my sunglasses to look directly into the painting. I favor the warmth. The hope. The internal knowledge that spring will most certainly arrive. Tomorrow.
The end of the winter season gives me one more chance to celebrate the winter fruits. Clementines have been a staple in my kitchen fruit bowl every day since last fall. I eat them for breakfast, in the afternoon with tea and even when I wake in the middle of the coldest snowy nights. They, like Monet’s gold, provide a burst of flavor and a reminder that the sun will warm my face again in just a matter of time. I caramelized them in this week’s upside-down cake and surrounded them with the crunch of freshly toasted hazelnuts. The two cakes float above and below a mound of snowflake cream, white as Monet’s snow.
Take a bit and smile. The sunlight is returning.
Clementine Cream Cake
One 9” two-layer cake
Caramelized Fruit:
6 Tbsp unsalted butter
6 Tbsp dark brown sugar
¼ tsp fine sea salt
3-4 Clementines (depending on the size)
A dozen or so toasted hazelnuts (if desired)
Cake:
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 ½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp fine sea salt
2 tsp Chinese Five-Spice powder
2 cups granulated sugar
14 ounces (3½ sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
¼ cup orange marmalade
1 tsp vanilla paste
8 large eggs
Filling:
½ cup orange marmalade (warm 2 Tbsp to brush on top of cake)
1 cup whipping cream
¼ cup confectioner’s sugar
1) Preheat your oven to 325 degrees and line two buttered 9” cake pans with parchment.
2) In a small saucepan, melt the 6 Tbsp butter and then whisk in the brown sugar and salt just until the mixture begins to bubble. Pour the mixture into the bottom of one of your prepared cake pans.
3) Slice the clementines into ¼” rounds lightly dry them on a paper towel. Lay them in a decorative pattern over the butter/brown sugar and fill the spaces with hazelnuts (if desired).
4) In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt and five-spice. Set aside.
5) In a standing mixture, cream together the butter and sugar for the cake. Mix in the marmalade, the vanilla and then the eggs, one at a time.
6) On low, add in the dry mixture and mix just until the batter is smooth. Divide the batter between the two pans and bake for 30-35 minutes until a wooden skewer comes out clean.
7) After ten minutes, turn the cakes out onto a wire rack to cool completely.
8) In a standing mixer, whisk the heavy cream to soft peaks and add in the confectioner’s sugar to sweeten.
9) Warm 2 Tbsp of the marmalade in the microwave (20 seconds should do). Spread the remaining cool marmalade on the bottom cake later. Spread the whipped cream over the marmalade and top with the clementine layer. Brush the warm marmalade over the top of the cake.
