good cateress, newsletter April 2012

good cateress newsletter, April 2012

Six years ago we moved to Harlem. We had come uptown to view our new home a couple of times, it was winter, the block was quiet. I had told myself that if I couldn’t walk along the block to see the apartment, then I surely could not live there. But all was good. We had looked at a few different places in Harlem, I wanted a garden and light, that was my main criteria, this had all of that.

We moved in April, Spring warmed into Summer and the block changed. The more obvious change was the decibel level. It attacked us from all sides.

Had I been aware that there was a small Church at the back of us? No not really, but that first warm Sunday changed all of that. The Pastor opened the window, which was apparently next to the drummer... As some of you are aware, Num my partner, is a drummer, percussionist and has won Grammy’s with Burning Spear and Common. I say this, because the Church drummer played off, the drums were poorly tuned and he was loud. We heard him all day Sunday, 3 nights a week. He also played the same, music is not the right word, some weeks were more annoying than others.

The noise in the front of the house was entirely different. A couple of doors down lived a young woman who managed Hip Hop bands. In the warm evenings she would sit on her stoop, and her various performers would stop by to visit in their SUV’s speakers blaring out their Rap or Rant. No good Rap, just a cacophony of sounds with a myriad of expletives mixed in.

With the height of summer all the people that lived across the street moved outside. Barbecues, tables, chairs were set up and stayed there for the summer months. Day time was quiet, it was too hot, but as evening began to fall, out they would all come. Drinking, smoking, playing cards and Dominoes all night, loud talking, arguing as they got drunker.

But nothing had prepared me for 4th of July. I had come home mid afternoon, some of the neighbors were in their backyards grilling with family and friends. Otis was singing “Sitting on the dock of the bay”, followed by Marvin crooning “Heard it through the Grapevine”, it was all beautiful. Later we heard the distant rumble of the Macy’s firework display. Later still, the fireworks started going off all around us, a lot of them. Some were so loud they felt like they were in the house with us. It was around this time I began to differentiate between the sound of gunfire and fireworks.

Despite the noise, this was the friendliest block I had lived on in New York. All our neighbors greeted us with a cheery “Good Morning” or “Hello”. After living on the Upper West Side for 11 years, where we saw the same people all the time on the block and in our building, and no one responded to a smile or a greeting.

The block was also full of characters. The old man across the street, who in nice weather was on his stoop, bad weather in his weather, smiling and waving at everyone.
In the same building was a man who had Mississippi plates on his red van, who wore shorts and wellies. Van did not have a working engine, so a group pushed it from one side of the road to the other for the alternate side parking rules. No one came to help one day, so I offered, he was so surprised. I explained he was a neighbor etc; so we started pushing and others came to assist.

Miss Lucy an old grizzled woman, addicted to Crack, the stories varied as to who she was, my favorite was that she had been a Head Mistress of a school, who never acknowledged the people on the block. She retired and hit the pipe!!??!! I could only ever smile as I walked down the block and would see her with an old sheet over her head; the tell tale glow of the lighter hitting the pipe, she would be lit up in profile under the sheet. Each winter the family would come and take Miss Lucy off to Rehab; but the first sign of nice weather and there she was back on the abandoned building stoop, selling flowers picked from our front gardens. One winter a memorial suddenly appeared on her stoop, word was she was dead, her corner friends and fellow junkies would miss her. Then one day, a few months later she was back. I have not seen her in eighteen months and there were no further memorials.

The Leader of all things negative was “Booster”, stealing and Heroin were her stocks in trade. The day we moved in she told Num “ The hand is faster than the eye on this block”, to which He responded “The arse better be faster than my boot” and she quickly slunk away. She would start the day looking clean and presentable, then would pee on herself and have to change numerous times. Arrested numerous times for drug activity we have not seen her in a couple of years.

Should I be up early enough and look out the window, I would see some of my neighbors going down the block in their robes/dressing gowns to get their coffee from the corner store. Some carried their own mugs from home to be filled..

We learnt not to park our car too close to the corner. The Dealers hid their baggies on top of the cars wheels. I soon learnt that these same dealers kept the Block safe. Each Spring with the new ‘arrivals’ there would be various meetings trying to form a “new” Block Association all anxious to be rid of the “corner”. One year the Police did clear the corner for a brief moment and we almost immediately had two muggings.

The Block has changed enormously, as has this part of Harlem. As one of my neighbors said to me last year, he knew Harlem had changed when he came out of the subway on 125th street, as Oprah got out of her Limo to go to Red Rooster.

I miss old Harlem, and I am happy to have lived to be a part of it. Yes, it is cleaner. It is no longer necessary to leave here to buy everything we need. But the friendliness has gone, most people leave for work, come home late. The old guys on the corner are slowly disappearing and being replaced by wary young bloods, it is not as safe.


"The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day.
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You're one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
a cloud come over the sunlit arch,
And wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you're two months back in the middle of March."
-  Robert Frost, Two Tramps in Mud Time, 1926
Pear Franzipane tart

Shortcrust Pastry
1 cup plain flour, 1 tablespoon organic sugar, 1 stick of butter, cold water.
Combine first three ingredients in food processor, pulse for about a minute,
add cold water a little at a time to combine.
For the frangipane
2 sticks butter, softened, cup of sugar, 2 eggs, cup ground almonds, 1 tbsp plain flour
For the poached pears
2 cup of sugar, plus 2 tsp extra, 4 good-sized pears, 1 cinnamon stick, broken in half, 3 cloves, ½ lemon, 2-3 strips thickly pared orange zest

Make the frangipane filling. Cream the butter and sugar together in a large bowl until light and fluffy. Gradually beat in the eggs, one at a time, then fold in the ground almonds and flour. Mix well and chill until needed.
Make the poached pears. Put the sugar in a saucepan, pour in 500ml water and place over a medium heat. Stir until the sugar has dissolved. Peel the pears and add to the pan, along with the cinnamon and cloves. Squeeze the juice from the lemon into the pan and add the squeezed lemon and orange zest..
Simmer for 20 minutes, then remove the pears to a plate with a slotted spoon and discard the liquor and solids. Set aside for 15 minutes, or until cool enough to handle. Don't overcook the pears - a knife should just pierce them easily.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the pastry to a circle large enough to line the tart tin. Trim off any excess pastry and spread the frangipane evenly on top.
Cut the pears in half lengthways and, using a teaspoon, scoop out and discard the core from the centre. Cut each pear half in slices, widthways, then lift onto your knife and push down on the pears slightly to fan them out. Lift into the pastry case and arrange in a circle. Fill in the gaps between each pear half with a few more slices and arrange some in the centre. Bake for 55 minutes to 1 hour, until the pastry is golden and the filling is set. Serve warm or at room temperature with a dollop of crème fraîche.