Can Creativity Exist in Tumultuous Times?

An existential question for you.

Dear 9’ x 12’ Subscribers and Readers,

I took this photograph one month ago as storm clouds (both physical and metaphorical) were rolling in as the sun was coming up over the Pacific Ocean. It was the perfect illustration of beauty in turbulent times and grounding in the knowledge that the sun will come up again tomorrow. It was the ideal visual illustrating the old adage, 'Keep calm and carry on.' I posted these thoughts on Instagram.

It was then coincidentally, as it is right now, absolutely pouring with rain as I write this, and the only thing I can think of is making another large pot of warming soup, broccolini with leeks, I think, and perhaps an apple and blueberry crumble to have with a cup of tea later on. It's that kind of day. The sky is reflecting my mood and general angst.

Last month, I announced my new project, From Provence to The Pacific (Part 3 of the 9’ x 12’ Adventure), a new food and travel memoir, a personal story that will meander across thousands of miles, a century of familial history, delve into diverse kitchens and cuisines, explore the villages, towns, cities, and landscapes, that have shaped my culinary journey. I wrote that together; we will savor a rich tapestry of food, art, and history, from the serene beauty of the French Alps, the coastal charms of the Mediterranean, the fragrant landscapes of Provence's hinterland, the gastronomic center of France's traditional cuisine from Lyon to Paris, the multicultural food scene in London, trans-Atlantic oceanic adventures, New England's seafaring ports, California's wine countries, the intrigue and vastness of Tinseltown and the serenity of the American Riviera, complete with anecdotal stories from my slightly food obsessed family. Well, that was (and I hope, still is) the plan.

I have been wanting to share this story with you for many, many years, and scheduled the release of the first chapter to coincide with the arrival of Spring and, not coincidently, the five-year anniversary of the COVID-19 pandemic, which oddly, launched the 9' x 12' Substack you are now reading.

So, what am I anxious about? I'll be honest when I tell you that I have been second-guessing the wisdom of writing and releasing this memoir now, given the catastrophic developments in Washington over the past seven weeks. The political maelstrom and transatlantic diplomatic upheavals have left most of us reeling and trying to catch our collective breaths. It is 2025, and I live in the wealthiest country on earth. Yet we are faced with the haunting-history-repeating-itself-possibility of a fascist-oligarchic coup, complete with the shredding of hard-fought rights and the literal gutting of civil institutions. Given this upheaval how can I write about the joy of discovery, of creativity, of food and the power of communion?

Just as I was typing up these thoughts I came across several articles and another excellent post from Elissa Altman on this very subject. I am not the only person having moments of self-doubt, about whether this is the time to publish creative content that is not focused on the current dramas across the country and abroad. She writes:

It's very difficult at this particular moment to continue to make art — to write, draw, make music, whatever it is you do — because it feels frivolous. It's incredibly hard to concentrate. Where will art get us? Why bother? ….. But there is a point, a moment of overload, when the heart and head need beauty like a dying plant needs water and light. They need art. They need words. They need music, ritual, and community. Humans, bombarded daily, relentlessly, with outrageous lies and the physical and psychological damage associated with chronic violence and the covenant of doom, need to create as a vital part of the promise of resilience, of groundedness, and humanity. Otherwise, it all just becomes scrollable madness.

I have discussed my concerns with friends and family. All of them have said essentially the same thing: experiencing the creative output of those around us, be it music, poetry, literature, art, or food, is a moral booster, and they need it. Do you agree?

I'm hanging my hat on that need and hope that the stories, and food, in this upcoming memoir will provide nourishment, both metaphysically and literally.

I value your opinion and I look forward to reading your thoughts.
With gratitude for your ongoing support.

Pascale

p.s. In case you too are in need of a pick-me-up, here’s the recipe for the apple and blueberry crumble.

Apple and Berry Crumble

There are few things more satisfying than a delicious fruity crumble, a good cup of tea and a pause the afternoon. This is a variation of the apple crumble my mum taught me to make when I was little. It is a family favorite whatever the season and can be made with almost any fruit.

Serves 4-6 people

For the fruit:
1 lb apples – peeled and chopped into cubes
1/2 lb blueberries
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
2 teaspoons sugar

For the crumble:
6 oz all-purpose flour
5 oz butter – cut into little pieces
¼ cup (2 ounces) sugar

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

2. Combine all the fruit ingredients in a medium sized bowl and toss together well. Spoon the mixture into a 9- to 10-inch-wide oven proof dish.

3. To make the crumble: place the flour in a large bowl. Add the butter and mix it with the flour, using the tips of your fingers, until it resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Don’t worry if you have lumps of butter left – it should look like that! Add the sugar and mix to combine. Cover the berries with the crumble mixture. Sprinkle a little extra sugar over the crumble.

4. Bake in the center of the oven for 35-40 minutes or until golden brown. This is delicious served with vanilla ice cream or a dollop of crème fraiche, or both!

Note: You can make a delicious variation of this crumble by adding a cup of chopped nuts—pecans, almonds, macadamia, almonds—and scattering them over the top of the crumble halfway through the bake. It will give an added crunchy layer to the dish.