A Dispatch From The “Provincetown Cluster”

The last few weeks in Provincetown have been — well, terrifying, honestly. As you may have read in the New York Times, or seen on MSNBC, or been texted frantically about by folks you were supposed to share a house here with this month, a cluster of Delta Variant infections, largely “breakthrough infections” affecting fully vaccinated people have exploded in our little village, after Governor Charlie Baker lifted all Covid-19 restrictions on May 29, and ended the state of emergency on June 15. This means that bars, restaurants, music venues, movie theaters, museums, dance clubs, retail shops, and beyond have had no capacity restrictions, no masking requirements, and have been licensed to behave as though there is no more danger lurking in the next customer’s nasal passages. 

The CDC, of course, recommended that fully vaccinated folks resume “some of their pre-pandemic activities without masks,” and we listened. In Provincetown during the first two weeks of July, those “activities” usually involve drinking, dancing, and fucking — which is obviously why we all love it here so much — and as it turns out, that’s a really great way to spread Covid, especially a variant of it that is apparently as contagious as the chicken pox. As a result, there have been over 800 Covid cases tied to the “Provincetown Cluster” over the last three weeks, including both residents, visitors, the un-vaccinated, and the fully vaccinated. 

The ramifications and implications of this cluster will have a long tail. For now, I can tell you that among the vaccinated folks I am close to who have caught the virus, they have been uncomfortable, in some cases felt terribly sick, but they are okay. So far, none of them have had to be hospitalized, and most of them got 10 days of mandated rest during a time in our lives when we’re usually pushing ourselves to the absolute limit. I’m grateful that they are all making a swift recovery, and that none of them have even had to take me up on my offer for a care package. 

The strain that this puts on the places that these folks work, or the businesses that they own cannot be understated. Provincetown has faced the same labor shortages as the rest of the nation this year, in addition to being mired in the worst year of a housing crisis that has existed since long before I lived here, and being without the significant number of visa workers and international students that usually pour into town every summer. This means that everyone was already running on a skeleton crew, during one of the busiest summers Cape Cod has seen in any of our businesses’ lifetimes. 

One of our staff members tested positive two weeks ago. We shut the shop down for 24 hours so everyone could go get tested (extreme gratitude here to our State Senator Julian Cyr and our Town Manager Alex Morse, who helped get us free, walk-up PCR testing every day of the week in a community where it has been incredibly hard to get tested throughout the pandemic). Once everyone else tested negative, we re-grouped, and figured out what it would require of us to do two weeks of work without one of our five staff members (in a normal year we have around 15). Massachusetts offers emergency Covid sick pay, which means that we can pay our ill staff member and get reimbursed for it (they’ve since made a full recovery, I’m very, very happy to say). But what of the four other workers who were out a shift’s pay? Is there a plan to help them? We paid them for their missed day of work (because they deserve it and we’re not monsters), but most employers are neither equipped nor willing to do that too many times. Most people in P-town work two or three jobs a summer. What if this happens to them at every job? What if it happens multiple times? If Sean or I get sick, we both have to quarantine for 10 days, which shuts Pop+Dutch down the whole time. What happens then? Is our staff out 10 days of income in August? 

I’ve spoken to multiple people this week — business owners, reporters, government employees, fellow nervous people — everyone’s response seems to be, “Oh, I have no idea.” 

I have to admit that I agree. On one news report, Provincetown was actually referred to as the “canary in a coal mine.” You all remember what happens to that canary, right?

The thing we all lived through last year was unprecedented in our lifetimes. It required that we band together, that we be unusually empathetic, that we implement systems and social safety nets for members of our community that are vulnerable and at-risk. We created new blueprints for disaster relief, for unemployment benefits — we helped people in a way that our big, hulking, capitalist experiment has rarely endeavored to. And here we are, 18-or-so-months-later, staring down the barrel of the same problems with absolutely no plan. Where is our Governor? Where is our Restaurant Revitalization Fund? Was there actually no contingency plan for variants shutting down businesses again? Did we watch how new waves of infection spread throughout the globe and actually expect that it wouldn’t happen to us? Is our leadership actually that short-sighted? That myopic? 

Don’t answer that. Let’s make soup instead.

Listen to This Shit: I Made You a Playlist”Canary In A Coal Mine” on Apple Music”Canary In A Coal Mine” on Spotify

Gingered Carrot Soup with Avocadoadapted from Orangette

Listen, it’s too hot to turn on the oven, too frustrating to watch the stove, and too scary out there to not eat something delicious. All you need for this is a blender and ten minutes. It will be a bright spot in your day if you need one, and I imagine that you do.

If you are the kind of a person who owns a juicer (I happen to not be), making your own carrot juice for this will make it even better. If you’re not, get some from the refrigerated section of your grocery store. It will be delicious either way.

2  ripe Hass avocados3-4 cups carrot juice1 tsp salt1 tsp good-tasting curry powder6 tsp fresh lime juice2 tsp finely grated peeled fresh ginger1 Tbsp olive oil

In a blender, purée 1½  of the avocado with the carrot juice, salt, 5 tsp of the lime juice, curry powder, ginger, and olive oil until very smooth.

Cut the remaining ½ avocado into small dice, and gently toss with the remaining teaspoon of lime juice, and another pinch of sea salt and curry powder.

Let the soup chill until you’re ready to serve it — it can hang out in the fridge for up to a day. Serve the soup with a spoonful of the seasoned avocado dice.

(Makes about 6 appetizer-sized servings.)

You’re reading “Soup and Despair,” a 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!