MY YEAR OF PROUST

What most people know of Proust, if they know anything at all, probably has do with his now much-publicized reference to that wonderful rich cake-like cookie called a Madeleine. Proust is Marcel Proust of course, a French literary figure of the early 20th century who is known for writing autobiographical novels about his youth and his observations of the aristocratic life in Belle Epoch France. A key scene in one of the stories is when, as an adult, he is served a Madeleine, the taste of which allows him to remember and vividly portray to his readers the circumstances in which he had enjoyed the delectable cakes in his childhood. He describes how just one taste made him so happy and how he recalled details about visits to his aunt and her house, the room and garden where he last experienced the taste of a Madeleine cake.


I came to Proust a little differently, and with no knowledge or experience with madeleines. I came to him by way of an Adult Education course catalog listing which said “Reading Proust”. The course description included the name of the book that was currently being read, the fact that the reading was aloud, and that there was discussion on the reading. What a luxurious idea! I had never read Proust, but it seemed to me that to read him would be the ultimate in basic and cultural literacy. As an English Literature major I was familiar with the works of Shakespeare, and Chaucer but it had occurred to me that my education was not completely rounded out. That I could do with some other influences. Spanish or French writers for example.So I signed up and showed up, ready to learn at the appointed time and location. The city of Santa Barbara has adult ed. classes in various locations throughout the city. This one was at a beautiful little Spanish style center which had its start as an elementary school but was probably deemed to be too small to be effective for that purpose now. The campus had nice lawns and large stately pepper and olive trees. A gorgeous setting and an auspicious beginning for a new literary adventure, I thought.

Finding my classroom I walked in and saw a collection of interesting and distinctive looking individuals, most over 60 years of age None fit any particular mold or look, particularly if I had a stereotyped image of older people. They all looked comfortable with themselves, and in particular did not appear to be of the“beautiful people” style that many associate with a place like Santa Barbara. The dress style was casual and in some cases carried to sloppiness. But then there were the casual elegant women who wore scarves and shawls and interesting hats. The teacher had all the markings of an ex-hippie from the 6o’s, longish hair, camouflage shirt worn over an emblem t-shirt and Birkenstocks worn over socks on his feet. I later learned that he was, in fact, much older than I thought, but of the type just the same. Amazingly, this particular class had been going for 35 years and quite a few of the people in the class had been there for most of it, coming and going over the various seasons. Apparently the reading was on-going, one book giving way to the next, in the way Proust had written them. I learned that even though there are several separate books, Remembrance of Things Past, In search of Lost Time, Swann’s Way, The Germantes Way, and others, they are essentially like one continuous story.

I came in, gave my name, signed the roll sheet and took a seat, making sure to not be too close to the front, lest I be called upon. After the formalities of the new season and roll-taking, the teacher started right in, assuming, rightly in most cases, that the attendees were up to speed with the current story, and familiar with Proust in general.

It seemed that only I was not. The teacher himself started in reading. The stories had to do with our main character in the book which, I was to learn, was Proust himself in literary disguise.. From time to time the teacher would stop reading to explain or comment on something just read. After a while, he would pass the task of reading to a volunteer, who would also pause to comment from time to time. Proust’s stories, like all good literature, did not exist or stand alone, but reflected the society at the time. History, politics and especially social mores were all revealed in his words.

The class was two hours long, with a short break in-between hours. The time flew.The readers pronounced the French impeccably and in their added commentary frequently gave more detail than was apparent, or even called for. They knew that stuff inside and out. Many recalled their own visits to France over the years and the places mentioned in the book. They drew parallels between the past as depicted in the story, and the present that they themselves had observed. I felt, looking at some of them and their ages, they might well have visited or inhabited Paris in the authors’ time so listening to them was magical transport from the everyday.

Ultimately, I am unsure what was more compelling for me; the stories in the book or the other “students”. The stories were, in my opinion, stilted flights of fancy. I found Proust’s character to be somewhat tiresome but of course greater intellects than mine would energetically disagree. Nonetheless, I came away from there feeling that I had had a very unique experience because of the others in the class and my exposure to their perspective. If the purpose of a school is to educate, I did get an education, just not the expected one.

These days it’s easy to indulge in those tasty little cakes that evoked such poignant memories and so inspired Proust without going all the way to France. They are as close as your local Starbucks or Trader Joe’s, available in tidy cello packages. But for those purists who would have the real thing, this version of the recipe is rumored to be the closest to Proust’s “squat, plump little cakes”. You can make your own and your own memories.


Madeleines
Makes about 20

2 large eggs
2/3 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
½ teaspoon lemon peel
pinch of salt
1 cup all purpose flour
10 tablespoons (1 ¼ sticks) unsalted butter, melted, cooled slightly
powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 375. generously butter and flour pan for large (3 X 1 ¼”). madeleines
(A metal mold with scallop-shaped indentations)
Using electric mixer, beat eggs and 2/3 cup sugar in a large bowl just to blend. Beat in vanilla, lemon peel and salt. Add flour; beat until just blended. Gradually add cooled melted butter in steady stream, beating just until blended.

Spoon 1 tablespoon batter into each indentation in pan. Bake until puffed and brown, about 16 minutes. Cool 5 minutes. Gently remove from pan. Repeat process, buttering and flouring pan before each batch. (Can be made 1 day ahead.)

Dust cookies with powdered sugar