Be Excellent To Each Other

I hate to start a return from a brief self-hiatus off with a PSA, but I want to do it anyway: Rebecca’s letter last week was a warning call to us all. We are all, in various stages, returning to a sense of “normalcy” that also varies significantly by personal definition. We are all half-feral, and not all of us recognize it.

Which is to say: It’s already a brutal summer for customer & food service employees. Remember how considerate and generous you were “during the pandemic?” Be twice as much so now. I’ve heard already from several industry friends and the lack of regard is astounding when it comes to general/normal rules. To paraphrase my friend Blair, “Everyone has been set free, and everyone wants what they want and nothing else.”

Nerves are shot. Patience is frayed. And in many, that just means we’ve lost our manners.

Anyway, hello from the new world, of which I am very much a part. Last weekend I went to a basketball game, something that I had missed more than I understood and that I had somehow never thought I’d be comfortable doing again. The arena was still at limited capacity, and what that meant was not a lack of energy, but a certain personal touch for all who attended. Every usher had a minute to chit chat as they showed you to your seats and explained the new rules, every cheer for every basket felt strangely intimate, and when I arranged to meet a couple of new friends at halftime, it was not hard to find each other because there was no crowd. We all watched Sabrina Ionescu hit the game-winning shot, and the arena came alive with cheers, and then my friends and I walked to Fort Greene to get food and drinks afterward.

It all felt unbelievably normal, except for the parts where it wasn’t: The intimacy, the masks, the fact that when we walked into the bar it was now called something vaguely fancy instead of Mullane’s. “I’ve never heard of this place,” I noted while steering my new friends there, and when we arrived I understood why: Nothing is exactly how we left it.

I am finding comfort in developing new routines, and in reminding myself that no matter how easy on myself I’m being right now, it’s probably not enough. My nutritionist told me this weekend that I need more rest than I have accommodated for, and that I need to tell myself that the rest is real, allotted rest, and not just time during which “I’m too tired to do the things I was supposed to do.” She is, of course, a genius, and I got up late this Sunday and reveled in walking around the corner to buy a book and a coffee and coming home to sit in the yard and read for most of the day.

It helped. It helped a lot. Because as much as I want to be out in the world and as much as I’m thrilled to be unlocking new experiences and new wrinkles in my brain again, it’s a lot to process.

In turn, I’m still being easy on myself when it comes to cooking, but I’m rediscovering some of the joy in eating. I came home tonight hungry but not ready to expend effort, still leaning back into the feeling of end-of-day exhaustion. I pulled a container of leftover black pepper pork sausage from the fridge and ate it cold, dipped in honey mustard, standing at the kitchen counter. It was delicious and it was what I needed to propel me forward to the next step of the day, and sometimes that’s all you can ask for.

Here’s a recipe that is low effort, high joy, and features the correct flavors of the season. I made it last night and then ate the leftovers with tuna and greens for a makeshift nicoise lunch salad.

Ingredients

1.5 lbs small purple potatoes, scrubbed and cut into 1-inch pieces

5-6 radishes, thinly sliced

2 Tbsp red onions, finely chopped

1/4 cup dill pickles, chopped

1/4 cup mayonnaise

2 Tbsp olive oil

2 Tsp stone-ground mustard (I added an additional 2 tsp honey mustard, because mustard rules)

1 Tbsp pickle juice

salt and ground pepper

Directions:

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil; add potatoes and cook 5-8 minutes until they’re forkable. Drain and run under cold water.

2. In a small bowl, whisk mayo, olive oil, mustard, and pickle juice until smooth.

3. When cool, add potatoes, scallions, pickles, and radishes to a large bowl. Pour dressing over salad and toss until potatoes are coated. Season with salt & pepper, to taste.

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!