Richard Jones: of madeleines and a milk mustache (+ a summer blog break)

~ jama

I’m a longtime fan of Illinois poet, editor and English Professor Richard Jones, having shared several of his poems here over the years, including “Blue Stars,” “The Nomenclature of Color,” and “The Diner.”

Prose-like, lyrical, elegant, and accessible, his poems — often about his day-to-day life, are truly a joy to read. Love how he establishes a natural intimacy with the reader, revealing profound insights in a way that seems effortless.

Recently I’ve been savoring his 2018 collection, Stranger on Earth (Copper Canyon Press). The poems are presented in seven sections — a nod to Marcel Proust’s 1913 seven-volume novel, Remembrance of Things Past (a.k.a. In Search of Lost Time). Jones reads Proust often, finding inspiration in the detailed stream-of-consciousness recollections transformed into a compelling art form.

Here’s a favorite poem from Stranger on Earth, a sweet moment shared by Jones and his daughter that’s perfect for Father’s Day.

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“Marcel Proust” by Nurit Spivak Kovarsky.
MADELEINES
by Richard Jones

I stay up all night reading Proust,
turning pages in the golden glow of a tall lamp,
happy in a little circle of light and dreaming of Paris.
It's like sitting up late with my closest friend
or listening to my own innermost thoughts.
There has awakened in me that anguish which,
later on in life, transfers itself to the passion of love,
and may even become its inseparable companion.

When the sun comes down the lane
with ten thousand French candles, 
I climb the stairs and softly open the door
to find my seven-year-old daughter still sleeping.
I sit on the edge of her bed; she turns
and slowly wakes. After my wife's,
nothing is more beautiful than my daughter's eyes
opening in the morning, her green eyes catching the light.

"Let's have tea and madeleines," I say,
and we set out on a journey to taste in reality
what so charmed Proust's fancy.
Sarah finds the red mixing bowls.
I fill the kettle and tell her about the recluse
who spent his life in a cork-lined room
scented with camphor, happy to lie in bed
and write endless pages about his past,
revealing the essence of every moment.
Sarah breaks eggs; I measure sugar and whisk.
Together we practice French:
sucre, livre, roman, je t'aime.

Sarah pours the lemon-scented batter
into the heavy, scalloped pan.
"Would you write such a book?" she asks,
licking the spatula.
"Would my father go in search of lost time,
remembering the past so?"

I open the oven door and tell her
there is no place I'd rather be than here with her,
though I wonder, will she remember this years hence --
the lemon-scented batter, the morning light --
and, amid the ruins of everything else,
will the immense architecture of memory prove faithful?

The timer chimes.
Sarah arranges the madeleines
on a painted tole tray, sprinkles clouds
of powdered sugar, and carries the tray
to the terrace. Now we are in Paris
at her favorite café. I am
her solicitous white-aproned waiter,
attentive to mademoiselle's every need,
undone and unclosed
by how small and beautiful her hands are.
She tells me that instead of tea like Monsieur Proust,
she would prefer milk. Thin towel over my arm,
I hold the milk bottle, present the label;
she approves and I pour the milk.
"Merci avec bonté," she says,
lifting her glass to the sunlight.

"I'll always remember these madeleines,"
I say. "Will you?" I ask,
toasting her glass with my teacup.
"Certainly. And your books will remind me."
"All things find their way into a poem."
"Like madeleines do," she proclaims, 
drinking down her tumbler of milk
until nothing is left but the line
of a thin mustache, like Proust's.

~ from Stranger on Earth (Copper Canyon Press, 2018).

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“Marcel Proust as a sick man writing with the tea of his aunt Elisabeth” by Alessandro Lonati.

Though this poem may at first seem like a simple narrative about Jones baking with his daughter, it’s so much more. Thanks to Proust, madeleines are now an iconic literary metaphor.

After being up all night reading Proust and dreaming of Paris, Jones enters his daughter’s bedroom at sunrise. Entranced, he watches as Sarah wakes and then suggests they have tea and madeleines, to “taste in reality what so charmed Proust’s fancy.”

As they work together in the kitchen, Jones tells Sarah all about Proust, who “wrote endless pages about his past, revealing the essence of every moment.” When Sarah innocently asks if Jones would write a similar book, he tells her there is no place he’d rather be than right there with her. He does wonder, though, if she’ll remember their conversation in the future: “Will the immense architecture of memory prove faithful?” What an exquisite line!

Marcel Proust Orchid and Bumblee Mug by Nastassia Ach.

They then have their tea and madeleines on the terrace, now a favorite Paris café, father attentively waiting on his little mademoiselle. Just as earlier he was taken with her eyes, he now confesses to be “undone and unclosed/by how small and beautiful her hands are.”

Describing her preference for milk, presenting the label, then pouring her a glass, he reveals the ‘essence of that moment’: just the two of them, transported, imagining dreamy Paris. In all the world, there is no place he’d rather be. He’ll always remember the madeleines they made together, but will she? He needn’t have worried as she says, “your books will remind me. All things find their way into a poem . . . like madeleines do.” He’s awed by what a daughter’s innate wisdom can teach a father.

Marcel Proust Cup of Tea by Nastassia Ach.

Madeleines triggered not only Proust’s memory, but his creative impulses. Reading Proust, in turn, inspired Jones to consciously create a real-life moment with his daughter. I love how tenderly he describes the experience, how he finds beauty in the eyes of his loved ones, the “alive” city he adores, and the author he’s truly internalized.

In a way this poem is his madeleine. With each reading, its sweet and delicate flavor reawakens feelings from that special morning and his unabashed love for Sarah as they are bathed in morning light. In crafting it, he recounted every detail with such care and presence. Beauty begets beauty. And so it goes with poets attuned to the revelations gently folded into the everyday.

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🇫🇷 MARVELOUS MADELEINES ♥️

By now you must be craving madeleines. Why not make some this weekend?

We’ve tried several different madeleine recipes over the years and liked them all; each yielded a tantalizing “lemon-scented batter.” Who knows? Eating them may inspire you to write a new poem or a 4,000 page novel containing 2,000 characters. You may even grow a thin mustache. 😀

Click on each photo to access the printable recipes:

Madeleines from the Official Downton Abbey Cookbook.
Claude Monet’s Madeleines au Citron.
Madeline’s Madeleines (adapted from Sally’s Baking Addiction and Preppy Kitchen).

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Lovely and talented Ruth Bowen Hersey is hosting the Roundup at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town. Zip on over to check out the full menu of poetic goodness being served up around the blogosphere this week. Happy Father’s Day Weekend!

SUMMER BLOG BREAK: We’re putting the soup on the back burner for a couple of months while we tend to a few things: replace my ancient 12-year-old iMac, press on with the gargantuan in-house downsizing initiative, PT for my cranky knees, box more books for donations. Meanwhile, have a great summer doing whatever makes you happiest. Read good books, eat a lot of pie, stay cute. See you soon!!

*Copyright © 2025 Jama Rattigan of Jama’s Alphabet Soup. All rights reserved.

31 thoughts on “Richard Jones: of madeleines and a milk mustache (+ a summer blog break)”

  1. “The true paradises are the paradises we have lost.” It’s been a while since I read Remembrances (decades!), but this beautiful poem brought back memories. I savored every line. And those madeleines… mm. I’ll have to try them. BTW, I made a batch of your blueberry bars – soooo goood. I got one, F got two, and Skip devoured the rest! Ha! Madeleines or that yummy sounding Fruit Tea Bread next?

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Oh, my. I’m already a bit nostalgic this morning and this just tips me over the edge. The circle of lamplight to the waking daughter being almost as beautiful as one’s spouse…and then the made imaginary world of Paris. Be still my heart. What a wonderful, gentle and sweet post. Thank you. I love the french words in blocks at the end, too! I’m off to work with a wide stripe of happy.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. There are several DA cookbooks, both official and unofficial. I’m anxious to try a recipe from the DA Afternoon Tea Cookbook, which I received as a gift recently. Have fun at NCTE with Charles!

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  5. Jama I am so happy to see Richard Jones highlighted here! He is the most marvelous poet that needs to be known more. I LOVE too your photos with the creatures. . . .:)

    Don’t miss Richard’s latest book “Passport” and the one before that “Avalon” and he has a whole book of poems about Paris called… . “Paris.” 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, he is wonderful, wonderful — and I’m anxious to read much more of his work! Swooning at the thought of an entire book about Paris too.

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  6. Jama… what a great offering as you take a break! Thank you for introducing us to Marcel (heard of a million times…never read!) and Richard… new friends to discover this Summer… cheers to relaxing, repairing and recharging 😉👏

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    1. I love that same exquisite line — “will the immense architecture of memory prove faithful?” Thank you for another beautiful post, Jama, and have a lovely summer!

      Liked by 1 person

    2. Proust is daunting; I’ve only dipped into the first volume, Swann’s Way (which has the famous Madeleine reference). Can’t imagine writing a novel containing 2000 characters! Enjoy your summer!

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  8. Thank you Jama for introducing me to Richard Jones, Proust and delicious Madeleine recipes. Have a wonderful summer break. See you in September!

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Another lovely post, Jama. The poem is extraordinary. The madeleines look delicious. I’ll have to give my baking granddaughter the recipe. Thanks for all of this. Enjoy your summer. I hope the PT does the trick for your knees.

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    1. Thanks for the good wishes, Rosi. PT is not my favorite thing to do, but sometimes necessary. The perils of aging! Hope your granddaughter tries one of the Madeleine recipes this summer.

      Liked by 1 person

  10. Thanks Jama, for this mouth savoring poem that lingers on ever so lovingly…Love the line you pulled out, before I saw you pulled it out, “Will the immense architecture of memory prove faithful?” That painting, “Marcel Proust” by Nurit Spivak Kovarsky, so charming, along with your enchanting bear scenes. Wishing you all the best on your full summer agenda… I’ll miss you till you return, xox 🦋🌻 🐝

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It must be fun to paint Proust — some describe his mustache as thin, but in some photos, it’s not that at all. In any case, he put madeleines on the culinary map! Enjoy your summer too.

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  12. Jama, Wow! I love how you weave so much into your writing on Poetry Friday. I’ve long been fascinated with color and read with great interest The Nomenclature of Color poem you shared. So many books this week that I want to read and/or own. I also need to read some Proust. His writing was part of a book I just read (fiction) and between you and that book, I feel compelled to read him. Thanks.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Glad you checked out Jones’s color poem — pretty cool abecedarian. Good luck with Proust — he’s daunting but a good challenge if you stick with it.

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  13. Jama, I have read your blog each day and somehow I fall asleep when I want to write a comment. Let it be known that I do love madelines, have the pan, but usually do not use it. Your post is a fun one and I did go down the rabbit hole with the different recipies that your linked.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for coming back to leave a comment, Carol! Hope you dust off your Madeleine pan and try one of the recipes. 🙂

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  14. Oh, what a marvelous poem! Jones is a master! I love this.

    I haven’t made Madeleines for such a long time. When my daughters had to give up gluten and dairy, that recipe got shuffled to the back of the recipe box. Can I create a gf/df version that satisfies? Hmmm. I’ll have to try now. 🙂

    Have a fabulous summer, Jama! You’ll be missed, as you are every summer. ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hope you are successful with a GF/DF recipe. GF flour usually works well, but I have yet to find a good substitute for real butter . . . maybe Earth Balance?

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      1. Yes, we’ve been pretty happy with the gf flours we use. I agree that df butters don’t always work in quite the same way as the real deal. So much depends on how many other ingredients are at work, and whether or not butter should be the star of the show. 😀

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