adulthood is imminent

feeling lucky

Today, I did all the dishes I haven't done for about a week.

I thought about finishing college.
Because I am done. I am done with college. Finished.

I've spent a lot of time writing you, trying to summarize and wring some moral or theme that accurately represents what the past four years meant, or are supposed to mean.

Here is what happened that I could not have predicted four years ago:

I grew up.

Child to sort-of-adult.

(four years ago)

Just like that.

I cried a lot, and everyone else cried a lot, and it was good and bad, but mostly it was interesting.
And now this particular thing is mostly over.
Two weekends from now, I walk towards a diploma with a tassel on my head.
And then the real stuff, I am told, begins.

Also, I've wanted to tell you, that I did what I've been so long promising to do: I wrote a cookbook.
It's called Good in the Kitchen: A Memoir about Food, The Media, and the Women Who Changed How America Eats. 

It's about my grandmother and Julia Child and me and cake.
It is also finished.

I am proud, but mostly relieved.
If you want to know more about it, shoot me an email.
I'll tell you more later.

I don't really know what's next.
I'm in a band and I want to write a million songs.
I want to bake some bread.
I want to sit in a garden while holding someone else's baby.
Wake up and go swimming.

All I really want to say, is how lucky I feel.
That there ain't words big enough, that if I'd known how much love there is--
that exists in this world-- for eating well, and eating together--that there is so much joy to be had--
if you'd have told me four years ago, I don't know if I'd have believed it.

I believe it now.

I feel so lucky.

Thank you.


beans (again)

From here until the end of May, I want to spend most of my time outside, and also drink a lot of beer.
I've been spending too much time in front of screens lately.

This is a strange time, like everything is simultaneously in hyperdrive but also limbo. With springtime, everything feels fresh and small and new. Especially when I look out my tiny bathroom window and notice all the still-unfurling leaves.

I keep thinking that I'm excited about everything, though every now and then, as I hear that someone else is moving, or figured something out-- I don't know--there's a lot going on.

Per the usual, I've been too busy to really cook anything. I read on the blog Orangette, her nice piece about doctoring up cans of beans with a little butter and spices. I've been doing this all week with cans of black beans. I add them straight to the pot with a sliver of butter, pinches of cumin and some chopped parsley-- then puree them until they're creamy and thick. I eat them plain and standing over the stove, sometimes with crumbles of feta cheese.

This last year hasn't gone the way I thought it would. Not that I had a clear idea about "how it would be," but all the same, it hasn't been the way I thought it would. And I guess I've been so in the present, that I haven't given much thought at all to what happens after May. When I think about "after May," I think about places. Visiting friends in New York and trying the city on for size again, or somehow going to Tel Aviv, where I'd  sit on the beach, with hands full of olives. I do not know if these are possible things, but they are still good to think about.

Right now, there are still six weeks until I graduate.
Even though I have difficulty listening to Father John Misty, there's a line off his new record, where he sings about the end of a relationship: "at least we'll both go on livinggggg!" Which is funny and sad and real and true/untrue. Which is the thing I keep reminding myself about the end of college-- I'll go on "livingggggg."

I will be so relieved, I think. To be done.

From here until the end of May, I'm going to spend most of my time outside, and also drink a lot of beer. And I'm going to think about the possibilities.

how to love yourself (beans)

I hate the weather. 
I talk about and blame nearly everything on the weather lately— all the moods, bullshit, inclement anything— it’s just the weather. 
In the land of near perpetual sunshine— I’m taking the cold very personally. 

I turned 22 last week, which is simultaneously something and also nothing at all. 
I had a lot of feelings, mostly because I realized and remembered how much everything has changed. 
A friend reminded me today that everything is always changing— but right now, it all feels very potent and more real. 
Mostly because I’m not a child anymore. 
And I was a child when I came to college. 
And suddenly I’m not. 

The other day, I went for a long hike in the rain with my father— we walked for about three hours and looked at the creek, which is full of clear, green water. My dad is full aphorisms and stories.
“This is real.” My dad said of the rain. 

This is real. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of “love yourself.” Which is one of those frustrating and vague things that people who are vexingly successful both at love and work like to say. 
“Love yourself.” 
Bullshit. It means so little. 
Here is all I know: 
On Saturday night, make a pot of beans. 
This is how you love yourself. 
You make the pot of beans with some garlic and onions, and then all week, whenever you are hungry, or don’t want to spend money, or are tired— there are beans to eat— all week long. 
This is the only thing I really know at this point. 
Make some beans.

This is how you love yourself. 

I love you. 

trendy vegetables

I cook at night these days. Mostly when I’m too tired, or so sick of staring at a computer, that washing dishes and making simple pastas and vegetable dishes feels like the only thing to do. 

Brussel sprouts are having a really irritating moment right now, they might even be trendier than kale. Honestly, there are few things more annoying than a really trendy vegetable. The point is, brussel sprouts are really wonderful when you cut them in half, and sauté them until they’re browned, and then add a little wasabi mustard, if you can find it. 
This is the real deal. 
As I made the brussel sprouts I thought about my parents, who STILL refuse to eat them due to retained childhood loathing. It was on their list of things that “Our Family Does Not Eat” which included beets, cabbage, brussel sprouts, margarine, and especially cauliflower, which my father has such a fierce hate of, that the one time I tried to cook it he actually yelled at me, “OUR FAMILY DOES NOT EAT CAULIFLOWER.” 

One of my friends said recently, “the weeks are hurling by.” And I don’t know what it is about that specific adjective that really says it all, but there you go. 

I also made pickled mushrooms tonight. Back when I worked at the restaurant, after the initial dinner rush, I would hover over the deli case, and spear pickled mushrooms with a toothpick when I thought no one was looking. 
That was maybe the best part of that job. 
That and taunting the chefs, who were behind a counter, and so were forced to talk to me, primarily because they were all so sick of each other. 
I used this recipe, but it’s not at all like the ones I would eat at the restaurant. 

The other thing is, I’m trying to get my thesis together right now. I don’t mind writing it nearly as much as I mind the feeling that I should be writing it every single hour of every single day. 
I try not to think about it all too much.
And Valentines Day came and went, I went grocery shopping at 11pm that night, and bought discounted chocolate covered strawberries. 
And I wore my bell bottoms recently and felt cool for about two minutes.
And also, aren’t you glad that tomorrow will be tomorrow instead of today? 

Even though tomorrow is just further proof that the weeks are hurling by? 

Anyways, I love you. 
More real things soon.