We're All Big Sloppy Stews At The End Of The Day
the way that—
experience intersects with identity is as nuanced as it is alarming. How we are treated informs how we treat ourselves; what we have seen affects how we see ourselves; the settings of significant moments in our lives become symbols of our belonging; the food that we eat mirrors aspects of our personality that we either love or hate.
I am obsessed with defining my identity. I have taken multiple personality tests (I’m a Type Four in the Enneagram and a Self-Projected Projector in Human Design, in case you were wondering) and I often imagine myself answering the back page of the Evening Standard Magazine series, My London (anyone want to interview me for that?). I frequently write down my ‘signatures’ – from brands I love to wines I drink – in hopes of identifying what kind of person an AlexaChung wearing, Riesling drinking, yoga doing writer actually is. If anyone knows, holler at me.
In Jami Attenberg’s novel, All Grown Up, her protagonist Andrea (a 39 year old single New Yorker) compares her life to the seemingly perfect Indigo, musing:
“Her life is architected, elegant and angular, a beauty to behold, and mine is a stew, a juicy sloppy mess of ingredients, feelings and emotions, too much salt and spice, too much anxiety, always a little dribbling down the front of my shirt. But have you tasted it? Have you tasted it. It’s delicious.”
Simultaneously self-effacing ("too much salt and spice, too much anxiety") and confident ("but have you tasted it?") this sentiment resonated. Particularly the comparison to seeming perfection, which many of us are beholden to.
In all parts of my life, I clumsily strive for perfection. I stumble my way towards it, and in doing so I fall short of the mark. In work, it’s an obsessive need to be valued and to be seen as infallible. In relationships it’s needing to be validated and looked after. In cooking, it’s trying to be constantly creative or nail a recipe so I can feel proud of myself.
In truth, we all think we want to be elegant and angular, a beauty to behold – but most of us are stews. I might be a plate of pasta (what a surprise) – a tangle of emotions laced with too much seasoning.
Would I want to be a Michelin starred plate of perfectly roasted guinea fowl with a red wine reduction or a piece of cured mackerel with an ingeniously engineered foam? Probably not. Sure, it tastes great but you’re not going for a five star dining experience every meal of the day.
A juicy, sloppy mess of ingredients are always eaten ravenously, with a big old grin on your face. Because have you tasted it? Have you tasted it. It’s delicious.
So here’s to the messy bowls in life, and not always striving for perfection.
Cat x
mushroom orecchiette.
Honestly if I were a dish, I’d probably be a bowl of caramelised onion pasta (with a whole tin of anchovies), but I’ve already written that recipe so I’ll go with my second option, which is a glossy orecchiette studded with garlic, wild mushrooms and fresh parsley (and a generous sprinkling of parm), which I always find myself making whenever I arrive in a new place.
For 1-2 people, you’ll need:
1-2 small bowlful of dried orecchiette (the pasta that looks like ears and holds pools of salty olive oil in its depths)
1 handful of wild mushrooms (but your regular chestnuts mushies are great too)
2-3 cloves of garlic, either grated or thinly sliced
2-3 tbsp olive oil (plus some extra v to finish)
A big pan of salted boiling water
½ cup of fresh parsley, roughly chopped
½ cup of good parmesan, grated
Salt, pepper and a pinch of red chilli flakes
Add your pasta to the water and keep on a medium-high heat until it is al dente. In the meantime, fire up a large, shallow pan with 2 tbsp olive oil on a medium heat. Add the mushrooms and a little splash of water. Once softened, add the red chilli flakes and the garlic and the rest of the olive oil. Turn the heat down a little so the garlic doesn’t burn.
Add a big spoonful of the pasta water so the mushrooms turn glossy, and there is a sheen. Keep a few cups of the pasta water to one side and then drain the pasta. Turn down the heat super low, then add the orecchiette, pouring in the pasta water one spoon at a time, making sure it evaporates into the sauce before each pour. Add the parmesan and stir in.
Once it looks glossy and delicious, mix in the fresh parsley, taste and then plate up. Drizzle some extra virgin olive oil and grate some more parm if that’s your vibe. Enjoy with a glass of this amazing vinho verde from Noble Rot that we had at our team lunch the other day. It's gloriously inexpensive and tastes like a lazy summer's afternoon spent winding through the lush forest and desert canyons of southern Portugal as the breeze ripples through your hair (can you tell I miss holidays?).
food stories.
– Community fridges across the city are fighting food insecurity, reducing waste, and uniting neighbors. Here are the secondhand refrigerators feeding New Yorkers, via The Cut
– Ruby Tandoh's piece Empire Of Seed which profiles the late Esiah Levy – a food grower and founder of SeedsShare, a project which gives away free seeds all over the world to encourage all types of people and communities to grow their own – is a tender and beautiful tribute.
– I love how Anthony Bordain writes about food – radically and punkishly – so here's an archive piece he wrote for The New Yorker.
a few leftovers.
– Discovered Francesa Chaney, founder of Brooklyn vegan eatery Sol Sips via For The Culture
– Broad beans and feta for the win
– Also tomatoes and marjoram for the win
– Can't wait to enjoy a glass of wine at Cuvée soon
– Want to see some hand-stretched mozzarella?
– Tomatoes and basil gelato? Yes plz
if you like what I'm putting down?
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