By Late January, and the retirement countdown has begun — six months until my last day at the library, six months of the career that has defined me for thirty years, six months of the building that has been my second home and that will, on June 30th, become the building where I used to work. The "used to" is approaching, and the approaching is both melancholy and liberating, the way all endings are both.
James is in his final semester of law school. He will graduate in May. He will pass the bar. He will become an attorney. The future is arriving with the orderly progression that has characterized James's life since he was sixteen and decided that the law was his calling: step by step, grade by grade, the staircase of a career being climbed by a man who does not skip steps because the climbing is the discipline and the discipline is the character.
Naomi announces retirement from the library. The announcement was formal — a letter to the director, a notice to the board, a memo to the staff. The memo was the hardest to write, because the staff are the people I have worked beside for thirty years and who have become, in the working, a family, and the telling of a family that you are leaving is a loss that resembles the losses I have already endured: not death but departure, not ending but changing, the same grief in a different container.
The library hosted a farewell planning committee, which I found both touching and premature, because I have six months left and the planning of the farewell before the working is done is the institutional equivalent of buying the coffin while the patient is still breathing. I said this to no one. I thanked the committee. I returned to my office and worked.
I made collard greens — the January greens, the honest greens, the patience greens, the greens that simmer for two hours and that teach the cook what the cook already knows: you cannot rush the good things. You stand. You stir. You wait.
The collard greens had already said everything I needed to hear that afternoon — stand, stir, wait — but the lesson felt worth repeating, so I went looking for another kitchen project that would not let me hurry it. Candied cherries are exactly that: a long, attentive process of building sweetness layer by slow layer, the fruit transformed not by force but by time. It felt right for a January that is asking me to do the same thing: to let the ending become what it needs to become, without rushing the grief or the gratitude, without skipping the steps.
Candied Cherries (Cherries Glacé)
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 1 hr 30 min (plus overnight resting) | Total Time: 14 hrs | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 lb fresh sweet cherries, pitted and stemmed
- 2 cups granulated sugar, divided
- 1 cup water
- 1/4 cup light corn syrup
- 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 1/4 teaspoon almond extract (optional)
- Pinch of fine sea salt
Instructions
- Prepare the cherries. Rinse pitted cherries and pat thoroughly dry with paper towels. Set aside on a clean kitchen towel while you prepare the syrup — excess moisture is the enemy of a clear glacé.
- Build the first syrup. Combine 1 cup of the sugar, the water, and the corn syrup in a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. Stir gently until the sugar dissolves completely, then stop stirring. Bring to a gentle boil and cook until the syrup reaches 220°F on a candy thermometer, about 8–10 minutes.
- First soak. Remove the pan from heat and carefully lower the cherries into the syrup. Add the salt and vanilla extract. Stir once to coat, then let the cherries rest, uncovered, at room temperature for at least 8 hours or overnight. The fruit will begin absorbing the syrup slowly — do not rush this stage.
- Deepen the syrup. The following day, use a slotted spoon to lift the cherries out of the syrup and set them aside. Return the syrup to medium heat, add the remaining 1 cup of sugar and the almond extract if using, and stir until dissolved. Bring back to 225°F, then remove from heat.
- Second soak. Return the cherries to the thickened syrup, stir once, and again let them rest at room temperature for 4–6 hours, until the syrup has been largely absorbed and the cherries look glossy and jewel-like.
- Dry and set. Line a wire rack with parchment paper. Lift the cherries out with a slotted spoon, letting excess syrup drip back into the pan, and arrange them in a single layer on the rack. Allow to dry at room temperature for 2–3 hours, until the surface is no longer tacky. They should hold their shape and shine.
- Store. Layer the finished cherries between sheets of parchment in an airtight container. They will keep at room temperature for up to 2 weeks, or refrigerated for up to 6 weeks. Use in fruitcakes, holiday cookies, garnishes, or simply eaten one at a time as a small reward for patience.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 185 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 47g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 18mg