Subtle As a Battering Ram

The last time I sat down to write, it was for this newsletter, and I wanted to focus on the small joys that kept me afloat over the last year that I expected to buoy me through what I knew was going to be a rough 2025 for myself, my friends, the country, and probably the planet. What has happened since has been hard for even the doomiest parts of me (the most natural parts, by the way) to fathom with respect to their quickness; I knew to expect their cruelty.

But also: We are working through a year that refuses any and all subtlety. In the relatively early hours of 2025, my friend Chris died. As is always the way, our last texts to each other had been in mid-December; we were talking about meeting up for coffee in January. He sent me pictures of his new puppy. He was, as he always was, excited about his work and his family. 

The night after I found out about his passing, I cancelled plans for my friend Anna's birthday. Two days after that, Anna's dad died. (A week after that, I was sitting in a hospital waiting room while Blair's husband underwent emergency brain surgery, rendering my most-used phrase - "this isn't brain surgery" - completely useless.) 

The throughline of the last several weeks, for me, has been this pervasive drumbeat of what if I'd shown up more / better / at all for the people I love? It's a hard thing to think about, and an even harder thing to say out loud: Am I doing so much to be gentle to myself and to protect my energy that I'm simply incapable of showing up in the ways that I need to for other people?

And then I remember exactly how hard it is to get through every day in the world as a person who reads the news, and I try to give myself grace again, and I go back to remembering that no matter what thing you are trying to do - be a better friend, take political action, simply survive - you aren't going to be able to do it if you aren't taking care of yourself.

As always, the main ways I take care of myself are through long walks with my gigantic dog and through cooking. The kitchen is the place that keeps me most grounded through everything, and it's where I've returned again and again in moments of uncertainty as this year has freight-trained its way into being. I've made a habit of Saturday afternoon focaccia baking, of keeping some garlic confit around to spread on toast, of picking up lemon curd at the farmer's market to fold into yogurt and berries to make the cold weather feel a little brighter. I have a jar of preserved lemons at the ready for when I want to make fancy citrus cocktails. And I've been quietly pushing myself into developing tiny health habits like sprinkling my scrambled eggs with turmeric, tucking spinach into everything, and drinking ginger shots in the mornings before I leave for the office. 

And every weekend, without fail, there will be some kind of soup in the Dutch oven to fortify me for the next week. I never forget that soup is a kind of spell, and no matter what horrors lie ahead, they are always easier to bear when you have a belly full of vegetables. 

I've been taking inspiration, too, from everyone around me. The group chat has - all separately - been embarking on our own little health journeys; we've all become middle aged women who work out now and who talk about protein and strength training. Reading Casey write about her apple trees reminded me that one of my favorite things to do when I don't have a soup on is to set a simmer pot on the stove full of apples, oranges and cloves so the apartment smells like comfort. Rebecca is, as always, cooking more interesting things than me. Chad, forbidden from sending me anything that resembles a joke about politics, has resorted to an endless stream of dog videos and occasional musical inspiration. Tomesena, who walks Mozzarella every day while I'm at work, left a loaf of truly incredible banana bread for me one morning when I was coming home from a redeye. Anna, Kara and I have a group chat about beans. 

If this all sounds a little early-pandemic-era adjacent, that's not an accident. We remain in community, and as long as we're able to remain in community, we will work to fortify ourselves through what comes next.

In lieu of a recipe-recipe, here are some of the things I've been cooking lately:

• Winter Vegetable Soup

• Potato, Sage, & Lemon Zest Focaccia

• Cottage Cheese Egg Bake (I told you I'm a protein girlie now!) 

• Preserved Lemons

• Garlic Confit

Next time, let's discuss my secret shame: the inability to quit the NY Times cooking app, and what our media diets say about how we look at survival.