Ciao Ragazzi, Ciao

Oh boy. We’re really up to our necks in it, aren’t we?

We are, if I have the count right, banning books, banning saying “gay,” outlawing abortion, watching a European war unfold, declaring Covid endemic, and calling child protective services on the parents of trans kids? 

I’m not sure what to say. 

Which is true for a lot of us, some of whom shouldn’t say anything at all but are anyway. I promise I’m trying hard to avoid that lane, because I, like you, am neither a foreign policy expert, nor an expert on Eastern European cultural politics. (But you know who is?: Julia Ioffe — and her work is as essential and thorough as it is absolutely brutal. Her newsletter is called Tomorrow Will Be Worse, and I believe her.)

It’s hard to remember that sometimes you should shut the fuck up, because we’ve been conditioned over the last two decades to feel as though not having an opinion about something means you’re not paying attention to it. But if you feel compelled to say something either aloud or on the internet about the war in Ukraine that is sweet, pithy, hilarious, subversive, hopeful, about electoral politics in America in any way, or really about anything other than your human empathy for the loss of life, culture, and security the region is currently experiencing, I want to remind you that you should, indeed, shut the fuck up.

I had the fun and good fortune this week to have a chat with Bob Keary and Harrison Fish, who host Wake Up In Provincetown — before the show started, while they were running through the particularly heavy list of current events they wanted to discuss on the show, Bob wondered aloud, echoing the sentiments of a lot folks I’ve heard from recently, “Was it like this during the Cold War, too? Has everything always felt this imminently terrible?”

In ways, of course. In ways, so much worse. Even my parents, who were lucky in just about every circumstance of their youth, were taught to hide under their desks during air raid drills in school. Everything has always been scary, bad people with power have been perpetrating horrors all over this globe, but we didn’t always have instant, 24-hour access to information. If you are not actively involved in solving military conflict or directing humanitarian aid (which, with all due respect, I don’t think any of you are), I think it’s okay to turn your eyes off for a little while and collect your own thoughts. I also keep returning to the fact that this is far from the first round of war crimes we’ve watched unfold on the internet and television — it’s worth examining how our responses vary based on the geographical location of these conflicts, and the people who are involved. 

This moment feels intangible. Indescribable. Liminal. Feeling any of those feelings is of course a tremendous privilege, because it means rockets are not being launched into your city, and your life is not being upended entirely at the whim of an autocrat while you run for your life. We have all been through so much over the last decade, I suspect a lot of us have forgotten some of it out of self-preservation. 

I’ve been very self-deprecating about the swirling nihilism I’ve been experiencing for — well — years, but the world keeps finding ways to reinforce the fact that I’m not wrong. And I’m here today to tell you that I think you should say “fuck it,” and do something you want. I think you should have a second cocktail, I think you should use a piece of cheese as a cracker for another piece of cheese, I think if you only want to eat pasta this week, you should do it, I think if you want to stir chopped lettuce into soup, you should do it. I think you should be tender with yourself and other people, even the ones who could have been more thoughtful. I think you should listen to music that makes you feel good, even if that music is sad. 

I didn’t really know what it was I wanted to say to you all this week. I didn’t know if there was a point to writing any of this. But I knew I made you a playlist, and I wanted to suggest a soup, and that we were all probably feeling fucked up in a similar way, and I suppose that’s all the point we really need. 

Yours in despair and also soup, Rebecca

Listen to This Shit: I Made You A Playlist

“Ciao Ragazzi Ciao” on Apple Music

HEY GUYS WE’RE NOT DOING SPOTIFY PLAYLISTS ANYMORE, YA KNOW??

This recipe is adapted from Tamar Adler’s “An Everlasting Meal,” a book which I have given as a gift so many times, I have occasionally tried to give it to someone twice. She describes this dish as “truly pacifying,” which is exactly what we need right now. In her words: “I passed this recipe along to a friend who reported that it was ‘butter’s highest and best use, because the lettuce becomes an expression of butter… sweet, crunchy, innocent butter.’”

Rice and Lettuce Soup

2 small onions, diced2 Tbsp. unsalted butter⅓ c. parsley leaves, roughly chopped½ c. arborio rice2 quarts chicken or vegetable stock (homemade kicks ass, but it doesn’t need to be)1 very big head Romaine lettuce, cut into fine ribbonsgood olive oil for servingsalt and black pepper to taste

Cook the onions in the butter in a large pot over medium heat, salting them once you’ve added them to the pot. When they’re softened and getting translucent, add the parsley and cook for another minute or two. Add the rice and liquid, and let simmer for about half an hour, until the rice is completely cooked through, and then for another 20 minutes, until it goes jagged around the edges. Turn off the heat. Taste for salt and pepper. 

When you’re ready to eat, warm the soup up, add the lettuce to the soup, and mix it through. Serve each bowl with rice mounded in the middle and more liquid poured over. Drizzle with good olive oil, and crack fresh pepper over it.

You’re reading “Soup and Despair,” a (sometimes) weekly newsletter by Sarah Flynn and Rebecca Orchant. It’s about food, feelings, and surviving the dark times. If someone forwarded you this email, it’s because they love you and they want you to eat. You can subscribe to it too!