Cakes
MakingaVictoriaSpongecakeisfairlysimple,untilyougettotheend.Makingasponge cakerequiresnothingmorethanflour,bakingpowder,salt,butter,milk,eggsandsugaranda buttercreamfrostingisevenmoresimple ItbecameasummertimefavoriteinmyhouseonceIcould reachthedialstoworktheovenandliftthestandmixerbymyself.Mymomwouldputon WimbledonandmakePimmsforherEnglishfriendsthatshe’dinviteover,cravingthatlittlesliceof home.Myeldestsister,Haley,wouldsneaksipsofthePimmsandultimatelyhaveherownglass onceshewasoldenough,mymiddlesister,Grace,andIfollowingsuitintime.I’dtiemyfavorite apronaroundmywaist,usuallyoverasundress,andbringoutallofmymaterialsfrommy well-stockedandorganizedbakingshelf(completewithalistofquantitiesandrestockneedsof each) Thesunalwaysseemedwarmerinouroldhouse Itcascadedintothekitchenandprickedthe metalappliances,washedoverthemarblecountersandstruckthefamilialblueeyes makingthe laughterbehindHaley’seyessparklejustalittlebrighter.Thefaintwhackofthetennisballonthe TVscreenandthecheersfromthecrowdcouldbeheardinthebackgroundalongwiththechatter frommyfamilyandwhateverfriendswehadover.MaybeDanelle.MaybeSonoma.MaybeDoris.
We’dorderlunchin,usually,sandwichesfromMendocinoFarmsorpastafromPortaVia Mymom’sfriendswouldusuallybringsomethingtosupplementitlikeasaladordrinks.Maybea bottleofwinetotrytoimpressmydad Everyoneknewnottobringdessertthough Itwaswell knownthatIbaked.AnditwasknownthatmybestbakeswereinthesummerwhenIventured throughmymother’streasuredEnglishrecipeslikeEtonMess,Battenbergcake,CherryBakewellsor theinfamousVictoriaSponge
ThemakingofaVictoriaSpongebecomesdifficultwhenitcomestimetoselectthejamto gointhemiddle.Withadividebetweenthosewholikestrawberryjamandraspberryjam,itbecame
animpossibledebatewheneverI’dask(notwantingtomakethedecisionformyselflestIbecome theobjectofireasaresultofmychoice).Haleywouldclaimthesideofraspberrybecauseithasa tang.Gracewouldsaystrawberriesbecauseit’ssweeterandshedoesn’tlikecake,sothefrostingand jamiswhatreallymatterstoher Myfatherwouldthrowblackraspberriesintothemixandbe promptlyignoredaseventhoughthegirlsandIwereonlyhalfBritishinourblood,hehadnothing, sohisopinionwasnullandvoid IwouldlaughatthelivelydebateastheLosAngelessunbounced alongthecountertopofourkitchen;thedoorwasalwaysopenandwouldletinthebreeze.
“Mixergoingon!”I’dyellasthemixerthatmyparentshadhadsincetheymarriedinthe90s whirredveryloudly almosttooloudlytohearthetelevision.I’dturnitonbeforeIcouldhearthe chorusof“okay”’s I’dslowlyaddintheeggs,flour,andsugar I’dletthegirlsfightoutthejam battlethemselves Ihadmuchmoreimportantthingstodo Whileitallcombinedinthemixer,I’d butterandcutoutparchmentcirclesforthe8inchpans(every VictoriaSpongerecipehas8-inpans, always)andprepthemforthebatter CheckingtheoventemperaturetogaugehowmuchtimeIhad beforeitwasready,myattentionturnsbacktothemixer.Delightfully,thesimplecakebatterwould allcombineseamlessly,soI’ddetachthepaddleattachmentandpourthebatterintothepans,stick themintheovenandsetatimeronmyphone I’dwashthebowlinthesink,listeningtomysisters bickeringinthebackground,andprepareitformakingthebuttercreamthatwouldgointhemiddle.
Softeningthebutterinthemicrowave,I’dshooGraceawayfromstandinginfrontofit,andthenI’d combineitwiththesugarinthestandmixer.
“Doyouguyswantvanillainthebuttercream?Iknowyoulikeitlikethatsometimes,”I’d askthegirls,causingthembothtolookatme.
“You’resowrong,thestraw ”Gracewouldalwayscutherselfoffwhenshelookedatme, whetherornotshewasstilltalkingaboutthejam.“Whateveryouwant,Lil.”
“Yeahwetrustyou,”Haleywouldaffirmwithasmile
I’dsmilebackatbothofthemasIweighedaddinginvanillaornot.I’dusuallydecide againstit.I’dwhipthebuttercreamuntilitwassilkyandthenwaitforthecakestofinishrisinginthe oven “Haveyoutwomadeadecisionaboutthejamyet?”
“Raspberry,”they’dusuallysay.BecauseevenifGracelovedstrawberrywithherVictoria Sponge,shelovedraspberryjustenoughthatshe’dletHaleywin I’dnodlikeasoldierreceiving ordersandpulltheraspberryjamfromthefridge.
Oncethecakeshavecooledenough,Iwouldleveloneofthemtocreateanevensandwich andspreadtheraspberryjamoveritandthenthebuttercream(theCornishway,youcouldsay)and sandwichtheotherlayerontop
“Cake’sready!”I’dyellintothegroupofpeoplethathadsatdowntofinishwatchingthe tennismatchbythatpoint I’dcutslices,carefullyliftthemontoplatesandpassittothepersonthat approachedmeatthecounter.SometimeseveryonewouldlineuporsometimesGraceorHaley wouldbringcaketoeveryone.I’dsavethelastplateformyselfandsitdownnexttomymom,my eyesdartingbetweenthescreenandthereactionstothefirstbitesofcake Achorusof“thankyou” and“thankyou,Lily”’ssproutafterthesecondorthirdbites.We’dallturnourattentiontowardsthe screen I’dsneakasipofmymom’sPimms
Mydad’sinterlude(akatheBritishInvasion)
WheneverI’dgoouttolunchorrunerrandswithmydad,he’dalwaysquizmeonwhatsong wasplayinginthecar.ItwasusuallytheBeatles.AnotherAmericanvictimoftheBritishInvasionof music,filmandculture,theBeatleswereatthetopofeverylist Weconstantlydebatedwhothebest bandmemberwas(he’swrong,it’snotJohnLennon,it’sPaulMcCartneyandeventhat’swrong,in theend,allroadsleadbacktoRingoStarr)andwhattheirbestalbumwas(The White Album was fantastic,there’snodenyingit,but Abbey Road isiconicandstandsthetestoftime.Andbesides, while Rubber Soul wasn’tthebest,“InMyLife”isamasterpiece).Beingtwomostopinionated peopleinthefamily,thedebateswerelongandsometimesendedintears However,thefactthatI couldnamequiteafewsongswithinthefirstfewsecondslandedmethepassengerseatspotmany times
Inacreativeexerciseinoneofmyclasseslastyear,Ihadtolistwhatcertainthingsfelt, smelled,soundedlikeamongstothersensations Iwasaskedwhatlovefeltlike,Isaid“itfeelslike holdinghandswhiledriving”.Withoutfail,myfatheralwaysreachesoverandgrabsmyhand, especiallyafterIcannameaBeatlelyricbeforeit’ssungoraRollingStonessongfromthefirstfew notes Withoutfail,he’lltapthebackofmyhandtothebeatofthesong
AndsotheBeatlesandtheStonesandtheKinksandalloftheotherBritishBoyBandsofthe 60sreigned,untilOneDirectioncameonthescene.IntheirownBritishInvasion,theyquicklyshot tothetopofthechartsandtotheheartsofteenagegirlsworldwide.JohnLennonwasswappedfor LouisTomlinsonandPaulMcCartneyforHarryStyles “PennyLane”madewayfor“Midnight Memories”andthesamedelegitimizationofboybandsthatwerebroughttofamebyyounggirls (and because theywerebroughttofamebyyounggirls)thattaintedtheBeatlesin their risefollowed suit(despitebothbandsnowbeingtaughtaboutinuniversitycourses).
“Lily,thisisn’trealmusic,”myfatherwouldalwayshuffwhenIputiton.
“Butyou’lllistentoitbecauseyouloveme,”I’dinsist,“andbesides,itisrealmusic.It’sjust notmadeforyou”He’dalwaysrollhiseyesandsqueezemyhand,buthe’dlistenanyway
“Olivia”wouldrollinto“RockMe”whichwouldrollinto“BestSongEver”andI’dinterrupt itsometimeswitha“HeyJude”togivemydadalittlegrace.Soonenough,histhumbwastapping alongtoNiallHoranandZaynMalikaswellasGeorgeHarrisonandRingoStarr.
ItcouldbearguedthattheBritishhadafourthinvasioninbetweentheBeatlesandOne Directionwhenmydadmarriedmymomin1995 hewasaCaliforniaboy,bornandraised,andshe wasaLondonerinforeignlands WhileheknewabouttheBeatlesandtheStones,sheintroduced himtoclottedcream,sconesandScottishtabletwhenhewentovertomeetherfamily.Sheshowed himtheculturalrelevanceoftheWestEndandRickStein’sdownsouth Soonenough,hehad favoriterestaurants,favoritehotelsandfavoritestores.HeknewwhattogetherauntforChristmas andheknewexactlyhowtocalmhermotherdownwhenshewentintoatizzy.Hedazzledher cousinsandheruncleswithtalesofhislifeinCalifornia,butwouldalwaysswingtheconversation backaroundtohislovefortheBeatles.Afterall,whilehemayhavemarchedtothebeatoftheSanta MonicaMountains,thiswasthelandwherelegendswereborn
Eventually,mysistersandIwereborninourownmini-Britishinvasion;however,wewere taughtourBritishnessfromthesummerswespentinLondonandthebitsandpiecesofitwecould findinLosAngeles.AnIrishpub,perhaps,oraspecialtystorethatsoldWineGumsandFruit Pastilles WeweretaughtitinthecarwhenwesangalongwiththeKinksortheWho Wewere taughtitwhenwecouldtellmydadwhetheritwasPaulorJohnsinging.
“Theirbestsongis‘InMyLife’,”Isaidonedayinthecar backwhenwelivedintheold houseandwehadtogoupthewindinghilltogetthere.That’showthesunreacheditsomagically,I suppose
Mydadscoffedandlaughed.“Andwhydoyouthinkthat?”
“Thethemes,thelyrics,themelody,thevibe,”Ilistedwitharesistanteyebrowraise “Welltheirbestsongis‘LetitBe’,”mydadshotbackdefiantly.
Ifurrowedmyeyebrows.“‘LetitBe’waswrittenbyMcCartney.”
“And‘InMyLife’waswrittenbyLennon”
Awondroussilencehungbetweenusaswethoughtaboutit.IwasontheMcCartneysideof thePaulvsJohndebateandhewasfirmlyontheLennonside,yetourfavoritesongsbetrayedthat
“Whydoyoulike‘LetitBe’somuch?”
“Thesoul.Ilovethemessageofit.”Iknowthathewentonforlongerthanthatabouthow muchhelovedthesong Myfatheralwaysdoes hehasalottosayandthegumptiontosayit all butIdon’trememberwhathesaidafter.Itwouldhavebeensomethingtodowithhischildhood andgrowingupinAmericainthe50sand60sandthechanginglandscapeofKennedy,rocketships, theColdWarandtheAmericanDream Allofthat,somehow,capturedbyabandofBritishboys
“Well,I’mtheBritishonebetweenthetwoofus,soI’mright,”Isaiddefinitely,confidentin thebloodthatI’dlearned
Heonlylaughedandsqueezedmyhand.“Sayingthingslikethatwillgetyouintrouble.”
“Andwhy’sthat?”
“Becauseit’snotarealargument”Hesmiledinthathalfloving,halfcondescendingwaythat I’msureallfatherswhohavelawdegreesdowhenlookingattheirmettlesomechildren.
“Well,that’saproblemformeinthefuture”Heonlyshookhisheadandtappedhisfingers onmyhandalongtothebeatof“PennyLane”.
DerryGirls
InthedaysafterDonaldTrumpwaselectedin2016,myschoolwentintomourning.Beinga liberalallgirl’sschool,weunderstoodwhatDonaldTrumpbeingelectedmeantforthedirectionof thecountryandthefreedomsofwomenwithinit Girlswalkedaroundwith“FreeHugs”signstaped ontothem,thenewswasoninclassrooms,teacherscanceledclassesandtheyunderstoodif homeworkassignmentswereturnedinlate Everyclassbecameabouthowtheirsubjectrelatedto whattheworldwasgoingtolooklike.Ourteachersscrambledtoprepareusfortheworldahead withoutknowingwhatitwouldlooklikethemselves.Thepagesofhistorybooksanddystopian novelswereflippedthrough,butnosolidanswercouldbefound IstillwenttoHebrewschoolafter though.IhadaBatMitzvahinacoupleofmonthsandlearningaTorahportioninanotherlanguage, especiallyonewithdifferentcharactersthanEnglish,meantintenseandlengthystudy BatMitzvahs wereimportantinLosAngelesastheywerenotonlythemarkerofadulthood,butalsolargesocial events.Icouldn’tmessup.IhummedthelittlemelodythatIhadcomeupwithtotrytoremember thewordsinthehallwaysasItriedtofocusinclass
InthedaysaftertheParklandHighSchoolshooting,westillheldColorWars.Itwasour school’sannualcompetitionbetweenthe6-12gradeswhereweweredividedbycolorandsetoutto completetasksforpoints.Securityhadtightenedintheschoolandtherewasanervousenergy.We hadreceivedbombthreatsbefore Wecouldeasilybenext Thenewswasonineveryclassroomand teachersunderstoodifhomeworkassignmentswereturnedinlate.However,thestudentcouncil madesurethatColorWarshappenedthatFriday,somygradedressedupinblue(forthefirsttime,in alongstretchofthemthatwouldbringustotheiconicthemeofSharksforour2022graduating year)andwewerethefirstmiddleschoolgradetowinColorWarsever,whichwouldleadustobe thefirstmiddleschoolgradetowintheSpiritCup ever (forthosenotintheknow,theSpiritCupwas ayearlongcompetitionbetweentheentireschooltoseewhichgradecouldgetthemostpointsat
variouseventsthroughouttheyear;theprizewasbraggingrightsand oh theywereexercised) Istill havethebluebeadsthatIgot,wearily,fromPartyCitythatThursdaywithmysister.
InthedaysafterJanuary6th,myclasseswerecanceledandoureyesweregluedtothe screen.Theworstthatcouldhavehappenedalmostdid.Iwasoldenoughtofullyunderstandwhat washappeningnow Inastrokeofirony,welearnedaboutUShistoryinjunioryearatmyhigh school,sothatclassbecamemorepertinentthanever.Ms.Nileschangedourlastfewweeksof curriculumtoincorporatethehistoricalevent.Wewerestillonline,sonotalotcouldbedone together No“FreeHugs”signswereonchests NoColorWarscouldbeheld My17thbirthdaywas afewdayslaterandwestilltriedtoholdtheparty.Originally,asmallgroupofmygirlfriendswere supposedtocomeover,butwithbadspiritsintheairandCOVIDgoingaround,itwasmovedonto Zoom Iblewoutmybirthdaycandlesbymyselfinmybedroomwithmyfriendsclappingonmy computerscreen.17wassupposedtobetheyearof Mamma Mia,liketheABBAlyricsaid:“young andsweet,onlyseventeen” Ifeltfarfromit Mychildhoodwasstartingtoslipawayfasterthanit hadformysisterswiththereminderoftheturmoilthatwasjustoutsideourfrontdoor.Thatthere werefriendsthatInolongerspoketobecauseofopposingsocialviewsthatwehad.Iwent downstairsaftermyZoomandhuggedmymom Haleyturnedon Mamma Mia Mydadcutmycake andserveditonplates.Momentarily,thenewsontheTVwasshutoffandIcouldbeseventeenfora fewseconds,sickoflivingthroughunprecedentedevents Theyseemedtohappeneveryweekand likeeatingtoomuchbirthdaycake,theymademystomachache,buttherewasmorewhereitcame from.
Inthefinalimageofthefirstseasonof Derry Girls,thegirlsandJamesaredancingwithOrla duringtheschooltalentshowwhiletheirparentswatchthetelevisionathome,wherethenewsison andit’stellingofabombattackthathappenedduringtheTroubles. Derry Girls hasbecome
somethingofacomfortshowformysisters,mymomandme Wealllovethehumorduetomy mother’sBritishrootsandinfluence.Mymomlikestocommentonhowwellitbalancesthetragedy oftheTroubleswiththejoyofgirlhoodandgrowingup.Forme,there’ssomethingtoofamiliarabout it Thestorylinesoftheshowfeeleerieandghost-like Thebadpoetryaboutgrowingupin tumultuoustimes,theworryingaboutgradessoyoudon’thavetoworryabouttheworldaroundyou, theurgetovote ItfeelslikeI’mstaringintoaclown’smirror Iseeelementsofmyselfinit,but there’ssomethingwarped.Idon’tknowifmysistersfeelthesame.I’veneverasked.Idon’tlivein theTroublesandIhaven’thadtoworryaboutanythingmajor,butthebingocardofbombthreats, religiousdiscrimination,politicalupheaval,andevenanallgirl’sschoolwasalittleonthenose
InthedaysafterIheardthatoneofmybestchildhoodfriend’sschoolswasgettingshotup acrossthecountryfromme,Icriedinthehallwayafterhedidn’trespondforseveralhours My teacherswereunderstandingifIneededtostepout,myfriendsgavemefreehugs,theblueshark sweatshirtthatIworeasIwasaseniorclungtomybody Heeventuallydidrespond Heisnowokay Iwenthomeandtriedtodowork,butendedupthrowingmylaptopdownandforgettingtofocus.I trudgeddownstairsandturnedontheTV.
“Mom!”Icalledouttoherasshewassitting,working,intheotherroom “Ican’tfocus today.Doyouwanttowatch Derry Girls?”
Shegasped “Yes!Ithoughtyou’dneverask Holdon,I’lltextyoursister”
Haleywenttocollegeanhouraway,soshe’dalwaysvisitfortheweekend.Footstepscame downthestairsasshekissedthetopofmyheadandploppeddownonthecouchnexttome,my momjoinedussoonafter
“Thisissuchagoodidea,Lil,”Haleysaidwithasmileasshesqueezedoneofmycheeks.I smiledandflippedtoarandomepisode ThevoiceofSisterMichaelrangoutandIsettledin The showwasalwaysaneasywatchforus,buttheghostlyfeelinginmygut,likealways,remained.