Yesterday snow, so fears that my fading head torch wouldn’t get us all the way to the river were moot; the glow from the snow-bound fields turned the pre-dawn sky peach, and even on the bank it was bright enough without torches to have read a book. But my goodness, the water is colder than my body can remember.

And nearly Yule, and the days will lengthen again. Joys!

Quelle année, hein? Between my current obsessions of existentialism v nihilism, the bread recipe I’ve recently started using, the programmes on cults and scammers my algorithms keep feeding me, and the historical cycles that suggest we’re in for a rough ride shortly (but boy oh boy will some things be a lot better afterwards), I have some 2022 delights to share.

BOOKS

January brought two gorgeous graphic novels into my life: Alison Bechdel’s The Secret to Superhuman Strength, which was just what was needed in a Run Every Day January that ended up with me having a post-Covid relapse (fool); and Tom Humberstone’s Suzanne (full disclosure: Tom is a pal and I was sent the book to write the blurb). It made me cheer with delight at its skill and wit, celebrating the sheer guts of a woman carving her way through a man’s sport.

Children’s books were all re-reads: Rumer Godden’s The Doll’s House (terrible suspense clothed in sweet white lace), Louis Sachar’s Holes (racism and the prison-industrial complex dressed as a kid’s adventure romp); and the original Hunger Games trilogy, reread to discuss with a housemate (which mostly descends to me sobbing as we attempt to talk about certain characters). I’m almost sorry the series was so popular, because popularity always begets countless knockoffs that end up damaging the reputation of the original, but Collins’ books really are very good. Katniss is a brilliantly unreliable narrator, and the world built around oppression, division, figureheads, purges, the 1% and the violence they’ll use to keep inequality in place, is something we may all become re-familiar with soon enough.

I’ve covered most of the non-fiction here before, but a quick recap. Blurb Your Enthusiasm, funny and niche and brilliant, buy it for everyone you know who loves books; Four Seasons in Rome, particularly if you go to Rome; and Raising Demons, whether you are, in fact, raising your own demons, or just want a peek behind the curtain at the home life of the Shirley Jackson, Horror genius. Two I’ve recommended repeatedly in person, if not pressed copies into hands: Recovery: The Lost Art of Convalescence, a comfortingly slim work by a GP, telling us everything we know but never pay attention to: that illness should be followed by recovery, recuperation, and convalescence, that medication isn’t everything, that we are healed not just by pills or operations, but by fresh air, natural light, trees, small, good meals, and time. An almost impossible prescription, but a truth we’ve forgotten about over the last 100 years. Finally, Foolproof, out in February, which I read for work a few months ago and have not stopped talking about. How do we combat the hysterical tone of conspiracies and cults online? How do we save ourselves and our loved ones from internet misinformation? What hope is there? Loads, if Sander van der Linden has his way, which is how I like it.

Fiction, I shall try to be quick because there are so many, but all of these had impeccable writing, tight, sharp and bright, and reminded me why I love reading (and especially why I love reading for my job, which leads me across genres). Young Mungo, beautiful and devastating; Piranesi, dreamy, like an adult Diana Wynne Jones novel; They, dystopian and wonderfully creepy; The Housekeepers, which I would have given my eyeteeth to write the screenplay for, a visually luscious Victorian Ocean’s 11; Lord of the Flies, a reminder to reread those masterpieces we think we remember; The Marriage Portrait, razor-sharp writing and a rarely seen autistic girl in literature; The Birds & Other Stories, because you can’t ever go wrong with Daphne du Maurier and her subtle undermining of the patriarchy; The Weather in the Streets, funny, brutal and dry as a bone on not knowing what you want from life and messing up attempts to get it; The Vet’s Daughter — why are we not reading Barbara Comyns every day?; Foster, tiny and jewel-like; Really Good, Actually, and I beg you not to look at the author quotes and just read it, because it deserves to be loved — a High Fidelity for 2023, if that appeals, and a bleak but hilarious look at the myth of self-care if that appeals more; My Turn to Make the Tea, funny and insightful, and I love a book without a real plot; finally The Colony, which may have recency bias as the last full book I read, but the writing is flawless, even if it made me think again about the responsibility creators have to the lives they give their characters.

FILMS

Family films, if you want something lighter over the sofa season: Bill & Ted Face the Music was watched when I was extremely hormonal and I wept with joy throughout — who knows what the quality is on another day, but I loved it right then. The Man in the White Suit is a remarkable (and funny) commentary on invention and capitalism; Charade has both Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn, so really what more do you need; My Cousin Vinny has a comical Joe Pesci and Marisa Tomei, and is great for a Sunday afternoon. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is gorgeous and, as they say, iconic (’Hey! They said you were stupid’); Good Morning is gentle, stunningly shot, and makes me wish I had someone making me delicious rice every day. We had a weekend of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, which started with mostly heckling but ended in my usual copious weeping. January will see me reread the marvellous books, and I’m sorry that I always used to (wrongly) agree with Paul Merton’s comments on the first book here. Animated with fresh artistry away from the bland Pixar mould, The Mitchells vs. the Machines deserved its rewatch (DEREGULATE TAPIOCA); wonderful Raiders of the Lost Ark suddenly awoke me to the fact that watching it weekly as a child meant my wedding dress was a straight mash-up of Marian’s two frocks; Little Women is perfect and I don’t regret my three cinema trips to watch it (or the many subsequent small screen viewings this year).

Four documentaries to watch: Some Kind of Heaven, which, like Mad Men, is both a celebration and a searing condemnation of the American Way. Speaking of which, Boys State: watch it, take some time to cool off, then google what they’re all up to now. The Princess is an excellent look at the building and destruction of a public icon, made up only of contemporary clips; Crip Camp is a loudhailer calling us to recognise the work and joys of disability campaigners, and to remember those human rights battles still truly needing to be fought.

I got into horror this year! Fresh and Men and Nope and The Black Phone! They’re good! They actually made me feel better about the world! 

Two cinema highlights: Jackass Forever, dumb and joyful, and Don’t Worry Darling, smarter, hotter, and more interesting than the coverage would have you believe. Pugh is a marvel and Styles does exactly what he’s meant to.

TV

Looking at them now, I understand why these five were my top picks and I gave up watching more gloomy TV after an episode or two. Slow Horses and Severance and Mythic Quest on Apple, The Witchfinder on iPlayer, and The Bear on Disney+, all wildly different genres but all containing, essentially, an existential view on humanity and the value of connection. Plus spies etc! Don't read anything about them, but if you have access, just watch a couple of episodes and see what you think. They have inspired and hooked me through the year.

FOOD

Speaking of The Bear, there is a recipe which has become an almost weekly treat here and is a direct lift from the programme, but I’ll only share it with you once you’ve watched all episodes. My god it’s good. This is the bread I’ve started making (the third one in the video), and reliably (to crib the great Jeffrey Steingarten) ‘the bread is more than good enough to eat, and some days it is so good that we eat nothing else’. Pre-Rome, I also discovered this focaccia recipe which is embarrassingly simple and tasty.

I don’t want to abandon my sourdough starter, though, so I use the dough for pizza bases, rolled out into long ovals (approx 100g per person) and topped with olive oil, fresh corn (sliced from the cob, briefly fried), mozzarella and jalapeños and cooked, then topped again with sour cream, crumbled feta, coriander and lime juice. White pizza heaven. 

This French Onion Pasta is a great filling evening meal in the cold months, as is this amazing chicken and pumpkin tray bake from Diana Henry. We occasionally leave out the chicken for vegetarian or budgetary purposes, and it’s still delicious; if you don’t make the sage butter (or forget it in the fridge), this is really good with a side bowl of 50/50 mayo and sriracha.

Gwyneth P’s Polenta & Roasted Tomatoes is unbelievably quick, and feels like a hearty but not heavy meal whenever it’s dark outside — in summer I actually managed to grow the tomatoes myself, for the first time ever (banana skin juice appears to be the secret).

Scones have seen us year-round: wild garlic scones in late spring, bramble scones in late summer, cheese scones after autumn walks — what is the winter equivalent? Fig and mature cheddar? I may experiment. Otherwise, Benjamina Ebuehi’s Pecan & Burnt Honey Cake has become an enormous favourite for dessert. Perfect on the day, and even better after a night in the fridge, it’s worth buying her (excellent) book for alone. Nigel Slater’s rice pudding gets a fair few outings too, although I still think his numbers are way off (I times everything by 1.5, except the rice which I take from 80g to 200g).

I wish you and your loved ones a great Christmas and a safe, healthy and happy 2023. x