(a raspberry mocha cake that isn’t) Hard to Love

The book: Hard to Love by Briallen Hopper.

I am currently going through a non-fiction phase, and Hard to Love by Briallen Hopper was the first book I read as part of this phase. Hard to Love is a compilation of essays, each of which tackles the topic of love in its various forms. Hopper writes about friendships, sisterhood, and the ways in which these bonds can form.

Hard to Love is a joy to read because Briallen Hopper is an exceptional writer. She is able to articulate her perspectives so well that, by the end of the book, I almost felt as though I knew her. Because Hopper expresses her points of view so eloquently, it is easy to empathize with her. Even when I didn’t necessarily agree with Hopper, I was able to consider new perspectives with so much more compassion. For example, in the chapter “Hoarding,” Hopper defends the practice of hoarding as a means of remembering others by holding on to their physical possessions. I doubt I’ll ever be pro-hoarding, but after reading this essay I no longer feel much negative judgment toward those who do hoard.

In addition to being beautifully written, Hard to Love is refreshing. Our society places so much value on romantic love that other types of love are often-overlooked, despite being equally (if not more) important. In “Lean On,” Hopper argues that it is okay to be dependent on friendships, explaining how she “learned to practice mutual, broadly distributed leaning: to depend on care that was neither compulsory nor conditional” with her friends. In “Young Adult Cancer Story” and “Coasting,” she writes about being part of a close-knit friend-group that formed over a mutual friend’s cancer diagnosis. In “Dear Octopus” and “On Sisters,” she discusses how familial relationships are complex, yet “sustain [themselves] through things that can end or prevent intimate friendships.”

All Hopper’s essays are thoughtful and gorgeously written, but my personal favorites were “Lean On” and “Tending My Oven,” probably because both instantly resonated with me. I loved “Lean On,” because it perfectly expressed my own love for constructing and maintaining meaningful “friendship shells” and “structures of togetherness” with others. “Tending My Oven,” an exploration of why people bake, at times felt like it was written for me (I know that it wasn’t): in this essay, Hopper explains how baking can both “[allow us] to be warm and sweet in a world that so often isn’t, and provide “a space of authenticity and generosity.” These were the chapters that resonated with me the most, but let me reiterate that all of Hopper’s essays are wonderful – even her ideas that don’t resonate with everyone are very thoughtfully written.

By the way, you can read the essay “Lean On” on Longreads!

The bake: (four-layer) raspberry mocha cake

As I mentioned above, Hopper’s essay “Tending My Oven” – an exploration of the practice of baking – strongly resonated with me. In addition to examining the reasons why some people love to bake, Hopper writes about her own favorite things to bake (which include apple bundt cake, chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter cream cheese frosting, and berry shortcake). Of all the baked goods Hopper mentions in “Tending My Oven,” the one that intrigued me most was “Seven-Layer Insomnia Cake with Bitterness Buttercream Frosting.” So I decided to make my own version of it.

To pay tribute to “insomnia,” I made my cake coffee-flavored (as coffee usually exacerbates my own tendency toward insomnia). I followed this recipe from my name is yeh, leaving out the cardamom. To pay tribute to “bitterness,” I modified the recipe’s frosting to be less sweet, and I added about 1 tbsp cocoa powder since dark chocolate, like coffee, is delightfully bitter.

The final cake: two layers of coffee cake separated by mocha buttercream frosting and raspberry jam, and covered in more mocha buttercream frosting.

The recipe that I followed yields two 9″ round cakes, and I ended up being too afraid to slice the cakes into thinner layers. So I merely sandwiched them with a layer of mocha buttercream frosting and a layer of raspberry jam in between. Then I frosted the whole thing with more mocha buttercream. So my cake has either two, four, or five layers depending on what you consider to be a “layer” in the context of cake. I consider both the frosting and jam in between the two cakes to be their own layers.

Regardless of the number of layers, this cake is great. The coffee flavor is strong, and well balanced by the raspberry jam filling. Also, because the cake is made with canola oil, it doesn’t dry out quickly. The best thing about this cake, however, was that I got to share it with coworkers, allowing me to be “warm and sweet” and to express “authenticity and generosity.”

My Year of Rest and Relaxation (and coffee and kahlua)

The book: My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh.

I recently read My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh. I had seen it on a bunch of lists at the end of 2018, but I wasn’t sure if it would be my cup of tea. I later saw it at my local bookshop, though, and I felt as though I couldn’t not check it out. The premise of the book is straightforward: the narrator, despite her many advantages, is unsatisfied with her life and herself. She decides that if she can sleep for a whole year, her cells will rejuvenate so much that she will essentially become a different person. With the help of a truly terrible psychiatrist and the outrageous drug cocktails she prescribes, our narrator embarks on a strange but oddly compelling journey toward sleep.

My first impression of My Year of Rest and Relaxation was that I wouldn’t be able to get into it, because the main character (whose name is never revealed) is so unlikable. She is highly critical, treats her most loyal friend incredibly coldly, and is kind of vain. Yet I couldn’t put the book down. I was exasperated by the narrator, but also genuinely rooting for her. I was curious to see how her mission to sleep the year away would play out. I wondered if it would work: would her “year of rest and relaxation” allow her to address her underlying issues and change for the better?

Something that surprised me about My Year of Rest and Relaxation were the moments of tenderness. Even though the narrator claims to find everyone annoying, she seeks out human connection during her Infermiterol-induced blackouts, going to parties with people that she formerly convinced herself she hated. She also shows love and warmth to her “best friend” in those drug-induced states – something that she certainly doesn’t do (perhaps is incapable of doing) when she’s conscious and sober. It’s almost as if the sleep-inducing-drugs help the narrator to access her better, kinder self.

I struggled with two things in My Year of Rest and Relaxation. The first was deciding whether or not I found it funny. When I bought this novel, a woman at the bookshop told me that it’s supposed to be very funny…and some of it is. I just can’t figure out how much of it is meant to be funny. I found many of the conversations between the narrator and her psychiatrist amusing, and the sheer absurdity of certain passages had me laughing out loud (“‘Your phone is in a Tupperware container floating in the tub’, Reva yelled from the bathroom. ‘I know’, I lied. ). But then there were really dark components of the story as well: the stereotype of the insane and incompetent spinster, the ice cold treatment the narrator gives her best friend for no real reason, and the narrator’s parental and romantic relationships that clearly stunted her emotional development. These things all add depth to the book, but surely these aren’t supposed to be funny?

My other struggle with this book was finding a take-home message from it. Don’t get me wrong: I loved the book . Once I got sucked into the narrator’s absurd world, I couldn’t stop reading. In fact, I think this is the only novel that I’ve ever finished in less than a day. When I put it down though, I kept trying figure out what to make of the ending, never really finding a conclusive answer. But this isn’t necessarily a bad thing: there is probably something to be said of a book so addictive that you can’t put it down (even though you don’t even like the main character!), and so fascinating and strange that you can’t stop thinking about it once you’ve finished it.

The bake: coffee kahlua cake.

In My Year of Rest and Relaxation, the narrator spends a wild yet somewhat unremarkable year pursuing full-time sleep. Two of the major constants in her life that year are prescription drugs (downers), and the coffees that she routinely buys from the Bodega before taking more downers and going back to sleep. So I decided to bake something that incorporated coffee, as well as my favorite downer (alcohol).

What I ended up baking was (a one-layered version of) this coffee kahlua cake, and a modified (less sweet) version of this espresso frosting recipe. I chose not to make the frosting provided in the coffee kahlua cake recipe because I am not ready to attempt egg-white-based frostings yet. This cake turned out to be one of my favorite recipes: making the cake is straightforward, and it is delicious and indulgent without being excessively rich or sweet. It is truly a delightful treat, one that might even make you feel restful or relaxed after eating a slice.

A slice of the coffee kahlua cake!