My phone buzzes with a message from my mom—she’s sending me an article by Leandra Cohen in her Substack newsletter. It was sent to her by a friend (hi Zoe!), who is the sort of person whom you’d want on a hiking trip with you for hours of conversation: funny and thoughtful and curious about everything. Leandra’s piece is written as a letter to her daughters. In it she writes: “I had been thinking that here, on the occasion of your first birthday, I had this chance to sensationalize how profound and electrifying and intense it had been to be your mom. And it was all those things! It is. But it has also been remarkably tedious and frustrating and boring and at times, even soul-crushing. This has shown me something significant.”
Read moreQUINOA WITH MUSHROOMS AND PEAS
None of my sisters were particularly picky eaters as children, nor was I. My oldest sister would get a stomachache when she ate any airy desserts—whipped cream, mousse, and so on—but that was pretty much the extent of our “will not eat” list. None of us had allergies, and instead of memories of what we wouldn’t eat, I remember most keenly what each of us liked best. Two of us loved the creamed onions at Thanksgiving, the tiny pearl orbs coated in a buttery sauce. One of us like to eat slices of untoasted white bread slathered with bright yellow mustard for breakfast on the way to school. We all liked calzones, homemade graham crackers, and broccoli in almost any form.
Read moreCREAMY VEGAN pasta
Guys, it is beautiful outside today. Beautiful! This time of year is marked by the most stunning sunrises—the sky streaked and splashed with colors that call to mind words like apricot and persimmon. In contrast, the sunsets are muted and calm, the tops of the trees bathed in straw-colored light as the surface of the water just beyond our street reflects the sky above: all soft cotton candy pinks and delicate lilacs.
Read moreMAPLE PARSNIP SCONES
Much of what makes life life—something about which people want to write songs and pen novels; something full of joy and shivers of unexpected (and expected) pleasure—lies in watching how easily you can transform ordinary things into more.
Taking disparate elements and making them more than the sum of their parts happens all over the place. Take, for example, poetry. How many times have you said or used the words “vacuum cleaner” or “UPS driver” or “house” or “thief” — but then someone (in this case the poet Ron Carlson) puts them next to each other in this very specific order and suddenly they mean something bigger and so sweeping that you read them again and again, saving them in your notes to remember to write about right here, to all of you:
Read moreGINGERED BIRYANI-STYLE TOFU
Much like all of you, my mind is swirling with a lot lately. As I sit here, in my bright little house on this quiet little street perched on the edge of a bay that gives way to the wide expanse of ocean beyond, it occurs to me once again what a strange juxtaposition this year (and this era) has been—more than ever, we’re all cocooned in, and anchored to, our own tiny individual orbits. And yet we’re so connected—digitally—to the world at large that it almost feels like we’re all sitting in a room together, shoulder to shoulder, watching each news story unfold live and in person right in front of us, turning to each other to commentate and opine and speculate.
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