Orange Sugared Cranberries

One hundred weeks of writing this blog. One hundred weeks of standing at a stove and telling you about it. One hundred weeks that have contained the best and worst of a life — the ordinary Tuesdays and the extraordinary horrors, the fried chicken and the funeral, the mac and cheese and the grief, the birthday cakes and the birthday that will never be celebrated again in a kitchen where the birthday boy can blow out his own candles. One hundred weeks. If I had known, when I started, what these hundred weeks would hold, I do not know if I would have started. But I am glad I did. The writing, like the cooking, is how I survive. The writing is the kitchen on paper. The words are ingredients. The sentences are recipes. And you, baby, you are at my table.

The Christmas decorations went up this weekend. Calvin put the lights on the outside — white, as always. The tree went up Sunday — Fraser fir, from the lot on Bessemer Road. Marcus is not here to carry it. CJ was not here to carry it. Calvin and I carried it together, struggling through the front door with a tree that was heavier than either of us expected, because trees are like grief — they look manageable from the outside and then you try to carry them and they are heavier than you thought and the branches poke you in places you were not expecting and by the time you get them inside you are sweating and laughing and wondering why you do this every year. But you do it. You do it because the tree is the tradition and the tradition is the scaffolding and the scaffolding is what keeps the house standing when the house wants to fall.

The ornaments went on Sunday afternoon. The handmade ones. The school project ones. The ceramic angel with the chipped wing. And Marcus's ornaments — the ones he made in elementary school, the painted pine cone from second grade, the popsicle stick star from fourth grade, the glass ball from his first Christmas in this house. I hung them all. Every one. I held each one and remembered the child who made it and the child who hung it and the child who is not here to see them hanging. And I hung them anyway because the tree needs its ornaments the way the table needs its plates, and some of those ornaments belong to Marcus and Marcus belongs to this tree and this tree will carry him as long as I carry it.

The star. The star is the hardest part. Marcus put the star on top every year because he was the youngest and then because he was the tallest and then because it was tradition and tradition was sacred. This year Calvin stood on the step stool and put the star on top, and he did it carefully, reverently, as if the star were made of something more fragile than glass, which it was. The star is made of memory. And Calvin handled it accordingly. And I stood at the base of the tree and said amen. And the tree was up. And Christmas could begin. And the beginning was hard and beautiful and exactly right.

When the tree was up and the star was on and Calvin had stepped down from that step stool and we had both stood there in the quiet looking at all of it, I did what I always do when the feeling gets too large for the living room: I went to the kitchen. I wanted to make something that looked like Christmas — something jeweled and sparkling, something that could sit in a bowl on the table the way ornaments sit on a tree, holding the light. Orange sugared cranberries are that thing for me. They are bittersweet the way this season is bittersweet, glossed over with something sweet to make the tart bearable, beautiful enough to deserve a place at any table, at any tree, in any year that requires you to carry what is heavy and make it shine anyway.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 20 minutes (includes cooling) | Servings: 12

Ingredients

12 oz fresh cranberries, rinsed and thoroughly dried
1 cup granulated sugar, divided
1 cup water
1/2 cup fresh orange juice (from about 2 oranges)
1 tablespoon orange zest
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Instructions

Make the simple syrup. Combine 1/2 cup of the granulated sugar, the water, orange juice, and orange zest in a small saucepan over medium heat. Stir gently until the sugar fully dissolves, about 3–4 minutes. Do not boil. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract.
Soak the cranberries. Pour the warm syrup into a medium bowl. Add the dried cranberries and stir gently to coat. Let them soak at room temperature for 1 hour, stirring once or twice. They will begin to soften slightly and absorb the orange flavor.
Drain and dry. Line a baking sheet with a wire rack. Using a slotted spoon, lift the cranberries out of the syrup and spread them in a single layer on the rack. Reserve the syrup if you like — it makes a beautiful addition to cocktails or sparkling water. Let the cranberries sit for 15 minutes until tacky but not dripping.
Sugar them. Pour the remaining 1/2 cup of granulated sugar into a shallow bowl. Working in small batches, roll the tacky cranberries through the sugar until fully coated. Return them to the wire rack and let them set for at least 15 minutes. They will dry into something that looks like it was made to hang on a tree.
Serve or store. Arrange in a bowl and serve at room temperature as a snack, a garnish for cakes and cocktails, or simply something beautiful to set on the holiday table. Store uncovered at room temperature for up to 3 days — refrigerating them will cause the sugar to weep.

Nutrition (per serving)

Orange Sugared Cranberries — Like Ornaments, Like Memory