I’m leaving Cambridge soon.
I’ve written before about how hard it is to pack up and leave somewhere that has become so dear to you; about the way your heart aches when you realise that your life will never, ever be the same again.
Simple routines – like Saturday walks, Tuesday night Bible studies, Sunday afternoons in the park – suddenly become like gold dust. Seen with new eyes, each moment is cherished and savoured as if you’ll never taste anything like it again.
In days like these, I find myself returning to treasured memories of time in Madrid and Paris. I’ve been watching Youtube videos to spot familiar streets, remembering ‘that time when…’. and picturing myself there, two years ago.
I’ve been thinking back to little things I loved then. The grocery shop below my flat, the evenings spent walking around the city, picnics by the Seine; moments around a table in Toledo, or in bustling bakeries after work.
There’s probably a proper psychological term for this tendency: how, when faced with moments of great change, we cling to what is familiar and comfortable. And we airbrush it in our minds. It’s easy for me to forget how, though I loved my time abroad, it was hard, too.
As Nick Carraway warned in The Great Gatsby, “You can’t repeat the past.” I’m not so naïve to cry, like Gatsby, “Why, of course you can!”. But we can still look back on it with joy and thankfulness. Reflecting on God’s faithfulness to me then is what assures me of His great love and faithfulness as I take my next steps.
Still, that doesn’t stop me from remembering, in edible form, those days on the Year Abroad.
I recently had a craving for flan. Cold, quivering, vanilla-scented cream. Like a custard tart, but without the pastry.
They love it in Spain. And in France, you’ll find it studded with sharp fruit. (I’m speaking from personal experience, rather than accurate knowledge of culinary history.) My personal rule is that flan must, must be served fridge-cold. No lukewarm eggs here, please.
My flatmate kindly bought a big tray of cherries last week, and I knew exactly what I wanted to make. It’s a simple summer dessert that can be adapted according the fruit you have; I think raspberries or apricots would work brilliantly, as would blackcurrants.
I used this recipe from Insomnie Cherry, which I’ve translated below. It’s pretty simple; just make sure you don’t let the milk boil over, like I did. And, if you’re pitting fresh cherries, put down some newspaper, or you’ll look like you’re auditioning for the role of Lady Macbeth.
Cherry Flan
- 400g cherries
- 1 litre semi-skimmed milk
- 3 eggs
- 100g cornflour
- 80g light brown sugar
- 2 tsp vanilla extract(or more, to taste)
- Beat the eggs with the sugar. Pit the cherries
- Add the cornflour and vanilla, and 250ml milk. Mix well.
- Boil the rest of the milk (750ml) in a saucepan.
- Take it off the heat, and pour in the egg-cornflour mixture. Whisk vigorously (if the milk is too hot, you’ll get scrambled egg).
- Put it back on a low heat and warm again, whisking continuously, until the mixture thickens.
- Pour it into a greased tart tin and push the cherries into the mixture.
- Bake at 180 degrees fan for around 40 minutes, until the top starts to brown and the custard has set with a slight wobble. Eat it lukewarm or fridge-cold.
Rutter Ramblings 