I walk to the cemetery on Saturdays now. Pappa in the older section, then Lars beside him, then Paul a few rows over, now Mamma in the spot she chose herself in 2019 ("next to your father, I have already been beside him for sixty years, why should the cemetery be different"). I stand at each headstone and I report. I report on the kids. On the great-grandchildren. On the soup at Damiano. On the lake. The reporting is the visit. The visit is the love.
Anna drove up Saturday with the kids. They cleaned my kitchen without asking. They folded my laundry. Anna said: "Mom, we're going to do this every other weekend until it stops feeling necessary." I let her. I did not protest. The protest had been used up on Mamma's death. I do not have any protest left. I let my children take care of me. It is a strange thing. It is also, I think, the right thing for this season.
Peter is calling more. The crisis has shaken him. He hears the math: Pappa, then Mamma, then me, eventually. He calls daily now. He sounds steady — not great, not happy, but steady. The grief made him show up. The grief unlocked the part of him that had gone silent. I do not say this to him. I just take the calls. I will take any number of calls. I have been waiting for these calls for years.
Anna brought me a puppy. A golden retriever from the same Two Harbors breeder where Paul and I got the first Sven. I told her I did not want another dog. I held the puppy within thirty seconds. His name is Sven. Sven the Second. The puppy is enormous in his enthusiasm and tiny in his actual size. He is exactly what the kitchen needs right now.
I cooked Pancakes with lingonberry this week. Thin Swedish pancakes — egg, milk, flour, butter, salt — cooked in a hot skillet, rolled with lingonberry preserves and powdered sugar. Saturday breakfast. The kind of breakfast that makes a long week worth ending.
Thursday: soup. Always soup. Gerald said, "You are the most reliable woman in Duluth." I said, "I am the most reliable woman in this kitchen." He said, "Same thing." I do not think that is the same thing. I think that is a kindness Gerald gives me because Gerald is kind. I take the kindness. I do not argue.
I lit a candle in the kitchen for no particular reason. Maybe for Mamma. Maybe for Pappa. Maybe for Lars. Maybe for Paul. Maybe for all of them. The candle is a tall white tapered one, set in a brass holder Mamma had on her dining room table for forty years. I let it burn down. The dripping wax made a small white pool on the brass. I cleaned it off. I lit another one the next night.
It is enough. Paul is not here. Mamma is not here. Pappa is not here. Erik is not here. They are all here in the kitchen, in the smell, in the taste, in the wooden spoon and the bread pans and the marble slab. The dead are not where the body went. The dead are in the kitchen. It is enough.
Anna cleaned my kitchen and folded my laundry and I did not protest, and I thought the least I could do was put something beautiful on the table before she drove back south with the children. Pancakes are for Saturday mornings alone, for the reporting and the remembering. A tart is for company—for the ones who show up. I made this one with whatever berries I had, the custard still warm when I poured it into the shell, and I set it on Mamma’s blue cloth and we ate it at the kitchen table with Sven the Second begging at our feet, and it was, for one hour, enough.
Fresh Fruit Tart
Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 3 hr (includes chilling) | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- Tart Shell
- 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
- 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 cup (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
- 1 large egg yolk
- 2–3 tablespoons ice water
- Pastry Cream
- 2 cups whole milk
- 1/2 cup granulated sugar, divided
- 4 large egg yolks
- 3 tablespoons cornstarch
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
- Fruit Topping
- 1 cup fresh strawberries, hulled and halved
- 1/2 cup fresh blueberries
- 1/2 cup fresh raspberries
- 1/2 cup fresh lingonberries or sliced kiwi
- 3 tablespoons apricot jam or red currant jelly, warmed, for glaze
Instructions
- Make the tart shell. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, and salt. Work in the cold butter with your fingertips until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with pea-sized pieces remaining. Stir in the egg yolk, then add ice water one tablespoon at a time until the dough just comes together. Press into a flat disc, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
- Blind-bake the shell. Preheat oven to 375°F. On a lightly floured surface, roll the chilled dough to fit a 9-inch tart pan with a removable bottom. Press gently into the pan, trim the edges, and prick the bottom all over with a fork. Line with parchment and fill with pie weights or dried beans. Bake 15 minutes, remove weights and parchment, then bake another 8–10 minutes until the shell is golden and dry. Cool completely on a wire rack.
- Make the pastry cream. In a medium saucepan, heat milk and half the sugar over medium heat until just steaming. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, remaining sugar, and cornstarch until smooth and pale. Slowly pour the hot milk into the egg mixture, whisking constantly to temper. Return everything to the saucepan and cook over medium heat, whisking continuously, until the cream thickens and begins to bubble, about 3–4 minutes. Remove from heat, stir in vanilla and butter until smooth. Transfer to a clean bowl, press plastic wrap directly onto the surface, and refrigerate until fully cold, at least 1 hour.
- Fill the shell. Spread the cold pastry cream evenly into the cooled tart shell using an offset spatula or the back of a spoon, smoothing it to a level layer.
- Arrange the fruit. Arrange the berries over the pastry cream in whatever pattern feels right—concentric rings, loose clusters, or simply scattered. Press each piece gently so it sits in the cream.
- Glaze and serve. Brush the fruit lightly with the warmed jam or jelly for shine. Refrigerate the finished tart for at least 20 minutes before serving. Remove the pan sides, transfer to a serving board, and slice at the table.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 39g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 105mg
About the cook who shared this
Linda Johansson
Week 471 of Linda’s 30-year story
· Duluth, Minnesota
Linda is a sixty-three-year-old retired nurse from Duluth, Minnesota, living alone in the house where she raised her children and said goodbye to her husband. She lost Paul to ALS in 2020 after two years of watching the kindest man she'd ever known lose everything but his dignity. She cooks Scandinavian comfort food and Minnesota hotdish and the pot roast Paul loved, and she sets two places at the table out of habit because it makes her feel less alone. Every recipe she writes is a person she's loved.