New New New New
May 25, 2013 § Leave a comment
The move has happened, albeit in pieces, as I type this back at my parents’ for the night to retrieve a few left-behind items…like, oh, my cat. The new job has begun, and I haven’t messed anything up royally yet. I do feel that the people I’ll be working with are all very helpful, and we can get along in the midst of the craziness that is cookbook publishing, apparently. I’ve yet to cook or bake anything noteworthy, as the last few days have focused mainly on sustenance derived from my meager pantry at the preordained times of day.
As I packed up a few more things today, I came across a book of food writing and fortuitously turned to Laura Dave’s essay “How to Cook in a New York Apartment.” It rings true for any city, I feel. Her words convey the comfort that we seek in situations that change and morph around us.
“Eleven P.M. The silliest time to eat by yourself.
All the windows in your New York apartment are open. Your stereo is tuned to country music. You are cuddled on the couch in your thick white socks with your soft blue bowl of chicken Parmigiana.
This is when the phone rings. This is the most important part.
You don’t answer it. Even though it may be the blue-eyed person. Even though it may be something about work. Even though it may be flowers or promises ready to be kept or the hope of an easier tomorrow. (It does turn out, in a way you couldn’t have prepared for, that tomorrow will get easier. That there is good news on the other end of that phone. That your dreams, if not coming true, are coming closer.”
But know this. Even if someone tells you it is corny later. Even if someone tells you that it is a coincidence. Good things happen, because right then, when you need to most, you sit still. You sit still in your seat–Willie Nelson and Loretta Lynn dueting in the background; the fast May heat swimming around you. And for you–for nobody else–you take a first, great bite.