2013 Will Be My Year
The New Year always feel like this heavy thing - a literal, personified object. A giant kettlebell or a decorative paper weight or a bag of rice you just won on Survivor. It’s always demanding reflection, always pregnant with possibility, and always always…completely freaky. I personally want to alleviate its weight, and I think this year I feel comfortable doing so. I borrow wisdom from the wise prophet Stefani Germanotta who says, “and after all, it’s just another day…”
It would appear I don’t have enough gumption (or timeliness) for a full/formal “favorite things I ate or made this year” or well-calculated “In/Out list of 2024” but here are some things that do come to mind, in the spirit of recap:
In 2025 I want to say Thank You and Yes Please to: substack, peanuts on ice cream, the bread hook attachment, a good set of dinner napkins, Ceechyna, Doechii, prescription sunglasses, a constant gratitude practice, jigsaw puzzles, grid posting, no-take-backsies, getting high and eating fruit, David Guetta’s ‘When Love Takes Over’, carrot cake, your mom jokes, and cleaning the hair out of the shower drain after your shower.
In 2025 I want to say No Thank You and Fuck Off to: Poppi, Ollipop, and any “better for you” soda, semiglutide ads everywhere, potlucks with no direction or assignments, alternative milk of any kind, unsalted butter, waist sizes under a mens 34, Trader Joe’s, forgetting, Gracie Abrams, avoidance, judging people who try, and being afraid to be seen trying.
Last winter I brought a dutch oven full of ragu on the G train to Park Slope. Last summer I strapped a 4 quart container of beef fat into the basket of a citi bike and rode it smoothly home. Last Spring I brought a banana into Basement and ate it as a late night snack with a pineapple juice from the bar. Last Fall I went to an SNL afterparty until the sun came up, wherein I went to a diner and a dear friend of mine ordered Spaghetti and Meatballs at 6AM. Each season is marked by food memories, and in 2024 some of my best food memories, in no particular order are below:
Sometime in the spring I bought this beautiful whole red snapper with intentions to grill it/serve it whole for Nick and Chase. It was going to be my first time using the grill at the apartment I had just moved into - I was stoked. As I am prepping a guajillo marinade for the fish, I look out my window, and see my downstairs neighbor removing the grill from our shared yard. What are the chances? Of all the days? I go down and talk to her and she explains the winter destroyed a part that can’t be replaced and she is spearheading getting a new communal grill, but it would be a bit of time. I removed the head from the fish, butterflied it, and used the oven to cook it. It was delicious. And I had a fish head to play with.
Last year, before I started my job in the restaurant, I spent a lot of time teaching at a cooking school for home chefs. My friend and coworker Jenny introduced me to yuenyeung, a Chinese drink that involves steeping your tea in hot coffee. Earl Grey tea steeped in coffee (with sugar and milk), a knife skills class, and a post-work game of pool at the dive bar down the block was a really nice part of my routine during a time where I was re-establishing all routines in my life.
Part of my delicious summer was getting to visit Fire Island for a few days in June, July, August, and September. I have had so many food memories on Fire Island over the past few years, and hauling prepped food on the LIRR to feed a house a ravenous gay men is something I practice a lot. The Pines Pantry overpriced coconut water has revived me of many a hangover. Being in houses with new groups of friends and seeing their eating habits/preferences is always enthralling. One day in June, I just intended to go to The Pines for a day trip (which ended up turning into more than that, as it often does). I was set to arrive on a mid morning ferry, and celebrate a birthday of a dear friend by being the only woman in a sea of gay guys on a pool deck. I packed myself a truly delicious sandwich in anticipation: herby mayo, smoked turkey, sopressata, early summer tomatoes, pickled shallots, mustard, pepperoncini…you get it. I knew the sparse food options on the island would not compare to anything I could pack for myself. I got off the ferry to Ben and Ohi’s loving embrace, went to The Pantry to get chips and a coffee, and set off to steal a moment of solo beach time with my special sandwich. I swam naked in the ocean (as you do there) dried in the sun, and dove into my special sandwich, made just for me.
Sometime in the depth of winter, I found myself having a day alone that I had not spent alone in quite some time (known as Valentine’s Day to many). I remember that I had no fear, anxiety, or sadness because I knew love was both around me in other ways (thank you, Dad, for sending me flowers every single year) and most notably, within myself. I had a delicious, simple day filled with eating and cooking, which is what connects me most to myself. I went to Librae and, because I was solo dining, getting a place to sit was a lot easier. I passed through Chinatown on my way home to get six (6) perfect shrimp from Aquabest to make a risotto. To feed oneself is to love oneself. How lucky was I?
At the end of the summer I got to visit Salmon Creek Farm in Mendocino County in the rural woods of Northern California. My friend James was hosting a residency there, and generously gave me and my sister a tour of the property, a tour of the gardens, a tour of the kitchen, and then let us have at it. We ate only what we picked, and we cooked a meal for all the artists staying on property there. Having my sister there with me, in that other-worldy place, was special beyond a way I can articulate. The artists started to wander into the kitchen around dinner time, and we all got to talking as the cooking wrapped up. They made us a martini and set the table. We all got along so well that we met at the local dive bar the next day, playing SOPHIE on the Jukebox and darts at the back of the bar. Something to say here about picking swaths of chard, cleaning wild snails off the leaves, and braising the greens one day juxtaposed with cash only, ice cold Bud Light the next but maybe it’s just that… it was a delight.
I made a wedding cake for my friend Conner. I made cold soba for Ned. I made fish for Natalie and Macy. I made pasta salad for Teenie’s backyard potluck. I made limeade for Nubia. I made a big batch of strawberry negronis for Bill and Spena’s. I transported 8 pounds of braised pork shoulder upstate to Camp Singers. I made so many family meals at work. I made pizza with Ned and Drew in Connecticut. I catered a wedding by making pho for 50 people. I cooked in office buildings, strangers homes, and commercial kitchens. I ate so. Many. Bean and Cheese. Burritos.
Independent but closely related to all the above, In 2024 I made some of my wildest dreams come true. In 2025 I want to regenerate newer, wilder dreams. I want to keep cooking and keep eating. This is all to say, hey, Happy New Year! I hope you are feeling excited, but then again, after all, it’s just another day…
your no thank you and fuck off list was healing to read
What a wonderful look into the ebb and flow of your 2024! Plus, Jeff getting you V-Day flowers every year made me really happy :)