Winter in Hollowpine

Dear reader,

By four o’clock, the windows in Hollowpine have begun to glow. The snow along the lane is no longer quite white; it has taken on the blue of the afternoon, except where someone has walked through it carrying bread. From the station, the street rises gently past Café Vesper. You could stop there first. Nobody will consider one coffee and a look at the cake an unreasonable delay.

This is the winter village I have imagined for Essy’s Essentials: a little of Vienna’s coffee-house warmth, a pine-covered hillside, and ordinary lives continuing behind cream-coloured walls. There are coats to hang up, trains to catch and evenings that become better for having somebody at the table. The cold is real within the story. So is the relief of coming indoors.

Marta Weiss runs Pension Linden, in the quieter street beyond the main lane. Behind her kitchen is a glass room where plants spend the winter and a radiator does the useful work of keeping everyone warm. There is a table with six places and one troublesome leg. Marta has an idea about what to do with it, although she has probably thought more carefully about the plates than about whether she will remember to sit down.

Otto has no such difficulty. He is a substantial grey cat with a white chest and an established claim on the velvet chair. If you find a bag unexpectedly occupied, the explanation is likely to be asleep inside it.

You will get to know the others gradually. Emil, whose bakery has been awake for hours before most people reach for their coats. Lena, who repairs books in the small courtyard off the main street and can be very good at making room for other people’s work. Felix, the piano tuner, whose departures sometimes require more conversation than he has allowed for. And Ruth, who enjoys a shared supper but sees no reason to apologise for an evening with her own book.

Their winter unfolds in The Winter Table, eight connected stories beginning with a pot of soup and a room that could be used a little more. There will be food worth lingering over: mushrooms and soft polenta, a hazelnut cake with coffee in its crumb, apples rolled into thin pastry. The recipes sit beside the stories, ready to follow you into your own kitchen.

I wanted this village to leave room for the weeks when the decorations have been put away and winter is still very much here. A favourite cup can stay on the table. The lamps still have their work to do. There is pleasure in recognising a footstep outside, and just as much in knowing that the evening ahead is entirely your own.

So take a look at the map, leave your coat somewhere sensible and begin wherever your curiosity settles. If you would like to meet Marta first, she is in the kitchen. Emil has brought bread. Something is about to become an idea.

With warmth,

Esther, Essy's Essentials