Lady Lazarus and Lemon Sponge Custard

It's no secret that in addition to being a brilliant poet and writer, Sylvia Plath was also an accomplished cook and baker. At work in her kitchen, Sylvia sought solace and inspiration from her cookbooks and comfort from her culinary creations. The Joy of Cooking was one of her most cherished books. Having read it religiously, she was more than familiar with its contents. Although I am ashamed to admit that given my continually growing collection of vintage cookbooks, I still do not own a copy of The Joy of Cooking. This truly shames me. In my somewhat weak defense, however, I often borrow a copy from my local public library.

I, too, am finding a certain peace in my kitchen. Like Sylvia, I know about loss and appreciation for things left behind. I know about being lost and found, while living long and coping with existential frustration. And I know there is sacred and therapeutic consolation to be found in cooking. This evening, drinking strong coffee while devouring Sylvia's prophetic words, I resolved to bake her beloved, Tomato Soup Cake, having read that she found much comfort in this recipe. But after inspecting the ingredients required, I discovered that I was without a can of condensed tomato soup. I cannot say this pained me, for although I've always been an admirer of her, this cake containing tomato soup, did not seem terribly appealing to me. I did not, however, declare absolute rejection of this recipe, because I found it to be curiously intriguing. Therefore, I can write with confidence, that someday (perhaps sooner, rather than later) I will end up eating a cake filled with tomato soup.