I’ve been grieving lately because my friend Stacy died of cancer two weeks ago, leaving behind a husband and son the same age as Young Knight. My husband was their wedding photographer and her husband was our immigration lawyer. He left his law career to go into the military and they endured a year’s separation while he was overseas. Their reunion only preceded her bout with cancer.
I’ve been grieving because of the 9/11 stories that I keep reading, even though we had sublet our Manhattan apartment to do a year’s sabbatical in Africa where we witnessed enough other tragedies to consume our attention and almost make us forget ….
And even though all of our friends that lived in NY survived (some by harrowing escapes), so that for us in this story there was a happy ending ….
I’ve been grieving for Anna at An Inch of Grey, whom I did not know before she lost her son in the DC-area flash flooding. But so many common blog friends brought the matter to my attention that I could not help but become emotionally involved. Her last post was of her two children heading off to school, unaware that on that same day one of them would be taken from her.
It might be because of my past, or I more likely simply have a nature sensitive to other people’s sorrows. Perhaps it is that her life reminds me just a little of mine, and I know so well what a tenuous grasp we have on life and loved ones that her grief easily could have been mine. I know this so well it almost feels like it is.
It has been hard to think of something to post or to leave little comments on other blogs because everything that I think to say seems so trivial. So I decided to address the issue head-on today. And then to make something to keep my hands and mind busy because if Anna and I were friends and lived nearby, I would probably cook for her. And maybe come and do her ironing.
Red Pepper Chocolate Mousse
(the pepper idea based on a recipe my friend lent me, the mousse based on various mousse recipes)
You’ll need 250 grams of dark chocolate. I put 200g of 70% chocolate and 50g of less intense chocolate, about 52%. Make sure it’s the good stuff. 
And you’ll need some cool small bowls or ramekins (that’s an English word, right?). Coffee cups will do just fine if you have some cute ones.
Heat the little squares of chocolate over very low heat with a tablespoon of water. I ended up needing up another tablespoon later on because the melted chocolate was too thick.
Add about 3 Tablespoons of butter too.
While that’s melting, separate 6 eggs. 
If you crack the egg too hard, you should be able to fish the yolk out of the whites pretty easily. You need it to be yolk-free in order for it to beat until stiff.
You also need a pinch of salt.
Keep stirring the melting chocolate with a wooden spoon so it doesn’t stick.
When the whites are stiff,
turn off the heat and add 4 yolks to the melted chocolate, stirring vigorously. I added all 6, which is what you see here, but it is too heavy to be a proper mousse.
Then add a heaping tablespoon of sugar (you won’t need this if your chocolate is under 70%).
Then add a few turns of your red pepper mill.
Mix in half of the stiff egg whites, also stirring vigorously. 
And now pour the chocolatey mixture back into the egg white bowl and turn over the rest of the egg whites into the mixture with a spatula. This time you should not stir it energetically, but scrape the bowl from top to bottom until all the egg whites are mixed in. There should be no white lumps.
This is what it looks like when mixed thoroughly. 
Put the mousse into bowls; I used an ice cream scoop so that it would go in more neatly.
And then top them with more crushed red pepper (as much for artistry as for taste) before putting it into the refrigerator for at least two hours.
I find that this mousse is sweet and creamy, but has a bite.
Not unlike life itself.
Praying for Anna.
Kate from The Big Piece of Cake has a link of bloggers who wrote in support of Anna if you’d like to read more. For those who want to do more, the family wishes that any donations be made to Samaritan’s Purse.
A delicious looking mousse there!
I too, came across the sad news of Anna’s loss. It just broke my heart. Too much sorrow in the world.
You know, you are the real deal . . . and I cherish you. The honesty of this post is pouring out – the concern – the grief – all of it. And then, while looking at the gorgeous pictures of red pepper mousse (who would have thought one can have gorgeous pictures of red pepper mousse), a glimmer of happiness comes out of the heavy heart. Thinking of you, and saying a prayer for all terrible circumstances of which you wrote. Hugs. Thanks for helping us forget for a few moments.
Leanne, you are pure loveliness. Thank you for this comment.
Praying for Anna and for you. Hugs my friend. Sometimes life just seems so unfair…
I’ve been crying, too.
What Anna has to do today, in just a an hour, bury her first child.
I can’t stop crying.
I can’t.
I was glad to know when the funeral was so I could pray extra. Thank you Alexandra.
I have a brand of serious dark chocolate I love and they make a bar with red pepper in it. I adore it. I’m sure your gorgeous mousse tastes the same way.
I am so sorry about your friend.
I did not know Anna, but I too, was so caught up in her awful story and those beautiful pictures of her family on their recent beach vacation, so innocent to the heartbreak awaiting them. It certainly makes you see this tenuous grasp we all have on life. I have been hugging my girls and my husband a little longer in the morning because of it.
Beautiful post.
Red pepper is always a surprisingly good touch in chocolate.
Grief is hard … sorry.
Visiting from SITS 🙂
Welcome Morgan – your comment got sent to spam but I caught it. 😉
Oh no. I had not heard this news and I live in the D.C. area. It is heartbreaking to see her children’s pictures on the blog. One minute they’re going off to school and then he’s. . .gone? I will never understand it.
My condolence on the loss of your friend, Jennie. May memories bring some comfort to you.
I know – I cannot get over it.
This was lovely. Thank you for writing it. And I’m so sorry about your friend…
My mother says that life is “won or lost” in the kitchen. She is the best at comfort food and comfort cooking. I wish I could hang out with you today and watch you work your magic and then help you deliver a meal to Anna. It wouldn’t mend broken hearts, but love always helps.
Me too. Your comment touches me to the core. I wonder if the world wide web is bringing back the tight knit communities that once existed (or still exist in other cultures). Somehow it doesn’t seem so virtual.
Oh Jennie, that was just perfect. Really.
I wish I could just give you a big hug. I know the pain of losing a friend to cancer. One of my closest dearest friends died almost three years ago, yet it seems like just yesterday we were all together, laughing, talking, having fun. The pain fades eventually, but the memories are for a lifetime. The lose of Anna’s child is heartbreaking. My thoughts and prayers are with you all in this difficult time. Thank you for sharing such a heartfelt message. I know it must not have been easy. You are precious.
Thank you Jane.
sigh.
Sending love and hugs across the miles. My thoughts and prayers are with you, with Anna and with Stacy’s family.
Amy, I also thought of you (almost mentioned you) because time eases some but not much.
This is perfect. I, too, am with you, grieving over the loss of Stacy and over Anna’s loss. I could picture you serving Anna because it’s just who you are. Two of the things I admire most about you, your sensitive nature and your nurturing heart.
Big Hugs.
And you were even closer to Stacy than I was. I’m glad you were able to go to the funeral.
Life is so full of tragedy, and I often find myself wondering when it’s my turn. That’s why this post really resonates with me. I’m sorry for your friend’s family, for Anna and her family, for families everywhere who are feeling a loss today.
Stacia, when I think like that, I have to remember that most people, truly most people, live to a ripe old age and watch their grandkids grow. When we read about the tragedies, we are struck by the shock as much as the pain I think. And we’re shocked because it’s out of the normal.
(Then again I have a very somber nature underneath the laughter so it’s a constant fight not to get sucked in).
Jennie –
Your compassion and generosity, your love and kindness – are breathtaking.
Truly.
You have voiced something here that I’ve been feeling since Friday (shortly after I published a very silly post and then learned about Anna).
Instead of facing the grief and sadness I’d been feeling for weeks (the death a friend’s six-year-old niece; the divorce of a couple we cherish; my sister’s hospitalization – she is not gravely ill but still dealing with her health) I disappeared into humor.
And I felt shallow. Responding to funny comments and maintaining my generally light-hearted/irreverent quips in the world of social media rendered me hollow.
Although I was being ME (I am silly and light and optimistic), I was avoiding the heaviness around me. So I pulled away for most of the weekend; retreated into my family and friends. I spent Sunday around a fire pit with my husband and children reading and watching the stars and embracing my loved ones on behalf of those who could not be with theirs.
And now, reading this, I feel full again.
You are a blessing to those who have entered your sphere, in any capacity. And I am so very grateful to have you in my life.
I hope it uplifts you even a little to know that you bring beauty to my world (not that this is in any way about me or should be). Still, you are special.
In all the good ways.
Wishing peace to you and those around you.
Soon.
Julie my heart was very full when I read your comment. Thank you. I’m glad to know you too because just as you can see my humor on top of my soberness, I can see your depth underneath your humor. 🙂
I’m so sorry Jennie. HUGS
Jennie,
You are a rare person. Nothing comforts others more than to know someone is grieving with and for them. You’ve been there, you know. It is a Christlike quality! Hugs and kisses to you. I pray for your friend’s and your peace. Love you my friend!
Love you too!
thank you.
Precious Anna …
I am so sorry about your loss.
I’m so sorry about your friend…cancer seems to be the norm rather than the exception these days. I saw this as my mom is battling breast cancer. It’s so hard to see your loved ones suffer.
Lovely recipe. If anything could perk my mom up right now it would be this wonderful mousse!
Oh Ameena, sending lots of love to you and your mom. (And chocolate pepper mousse).
This is a beautiful post, and so much classier than the Kraft Macaroni and cheese my family I and I grieved with years ago.
Last week was profoundly sad.
This is so silly, but did you notice that one of your chunks of butter looks just like a dove? I’ve never written that sentence before, I’m quite sure.
This has been such a tough year! I am soo very sorry about your friend. I too read about Anna and though I hadn’t followed her blog, found myself grieving for her. Life is so very precious – and often far too short. You are a wonderful woman!
Thank you Annie. I’m very encouraged by your story even if sometimes I feel like I’m biting my nails too waiting for your results.