some photos from the last few weeks

 

vegetables for molly

hello my dearest dear, 

I am, as we have discussed, goated at vegetables, and am here to share two recipes that are very good together.

I don't have sexy pictures of these things because honestly, I think they kind of photograph poorly, so you're just going to have to trust me. 

first is the squash, which is basically verbatim a julius roberts recipe, minus this part: get a koginut squash from trader joe's or whole foods or bi-rite, etc. it's half kabocha, half butternut, and I like it better than either classic option. here is the one i have been eating these last two days, on our date at the park, a couple hours before dinner: 

koginut <3

when you get home, pre-heat your oven to 400º. Get your sharpest knife. Split the squash in half vertically and de-stem it, then clean out the inside before cutting it into vertical wedges (go for an inch at the thickest part), starting from the soft side and pushing the knife through the skin inside-out. Once it’s in wedges you can carve off the weird butthole part.Toss this with olive oil and a generous pinch of salt and fresh black pepper and get it into the oven (use the big rectangular Staub) for 35, 40 minutes. If it hasn't begun to brown deliciously, stick it back in the oven.

In the last 4-5 minutes (between the start of browning and irretrievable burning), add a handful of hazelnuts and a handful of stripped thyme. If you don't like thyme, you can do the julius roberts thing and flash fry sage and put it on top, but i think sage without chicken tastes like soap, and that fried sage tastes like oil and soap. Note that if you don't keep your hazelnuts in your fridge they will taste horrible and rancid and ruin this dish.

When the dish is done, let it cool for a bit before removing the squash and the hazelnuts to plate. Tear up a whole burrata or two and scatter it around and on top. 

next is the way to make green beans that aren't absolutely pulverized the way they are in a lot of french cooking. I allege that french green beans are, in fact, brown, lifeless, and gross. I like my green beans bright green and crisp (they should snap when you bite!), but fully cooked, maybe even with a few charred spots. full of flavor, but no burnt garlic. a delicate act! but quite easy once you know how. 

(might you already know how? I wouldn't be surprised.) 

Realistically, you should get this going while the squash is still in the oven, maybe 10 minutes before the timer is set to go off. At home I always have to make two batches because my sister and my mom will eat these like chips and empty the plate before i've finished setting the table. 

Start with a shallot. I run it on the mandolin to get it real thin and rough chop half the pile into 1" strands. It's going to disintegrate. So I don't know why I bother. That goes into a stainless steel pan with olive oil that got hot over low heat. In goes a light pinch of salt. While that gets going, I press a couple cloves of garlic and hold that in reserve, and I go find my lemon and set out my microplane.

Once the shallots are looking a little worse for wear, in go the green beans, and up goes the heat to a true medium or even medium-high. I want these things to start turning bright green. I don't fuss with them much in hopes that one or two of them will develop those delicious little charred spots. after a few minutes, there should be still be no sign of wilting, but you might get the instinctive sense that they're going to start looking less fun pretty soon, and this is when you add the garlic and a generous pinch of salt and start tossing things around a bunch, until everything's pretty mixed together. I like to add lemon zest here if because I like the bitter edge taken off, but you could also add raw zest when you're plating. 

About a minute later, when the garlic is smelling really delicious and caramelizing but not yet burning: I add a couple careful splashes of lukewarm water to deglaze everything. (You might even be able to use something like white wine or vermouth but I never do.) Once all of this has steamed off, I dump the beans onto a plate and douse them in fresh lemon juice. And also more salt. just a tad! or a tad more than that! 

I will be making these two dishes again and again and again, all winter long. They work with salmon, with chicken, and with my favorite winter salad, which i'll add here soon... 

xx, still thinking about this

everything is changing and it's the most beautiful thing in the world

Today was a beautiful day. Spence was staying over and we grabbed breakfast sandwiches at the farmer's market and went on walk through Kalorama and sat with Joe on the Spanish steps.

We dropped him off at the train and said our goodbyes on the platform like old friends have been doing for over a century, leaving him with a baggie of chocolate chip cookies and a letter. 

Monica and Joe and I set off in search of pumpkins. I ended up making the stupidest looking pumpkin I could muster. "Holy teeth," said Joe. 

mine is the idiot on the left

After I finished my carving I was wiping dried pumpkin pits off of my palms when Dani called me, which is weird, because our friendship has always floated along over text. I picked up, and she said "hi," and I said, "what's up?" and there was a silence, and then she whispered, "I'm engaged," and I fell to my knees. Never once have I done that before. I started to laugh and cry at the same time, and so did she, and that went on for a good ten minutes.

I went to the park and sat at the fountain for a while and listened to the songs Dani and Rikki associate with getting engaged: Love Takes Miles, Que Sera Sera. 

On the walk back to my apartment I encountered a sunflower so large and so imposing that I had to investigate. It's at least six feet tall, and its head is bigger than mine. I stood under it for a while trying to figure out how to measure it. 

16" laptop, so like a foot in diameter?

Some time after that I found myself at the store and bought green beans and a lemon, a carton of eggs, an eggplant, and two Lucy Rose apples. I called my dad while improvising dinner for me and Lyd: Crisp sautéed green beans with lemon and garlic and jammy shallot, roasted koginut squash with hazelnuts and burrata, roasted eggplant. For dessert we shared an apple and peanut butter, and Lyd walked home.

After all that, I called my dad back. He put my mom on, and she listened to me for a while. A few years ago I'd never have been able to tell her what I tell her now. I made some more calls: I love to chat on a Sunday evening. I spent some time talking to an old friend, dropped in on Richa on her drive home... 

And now I am ready for bed. I am struck by how much everything has changed, is changing, will change, and how beautiful it all is. Today I am in a place where I just want it all. 

Things from los angeles

Last night I was at All Time once again with Juju, which we’ve decided is our place. We sat there sipping lemonade and whispering about why do you think they sat us at the bar and I think two of the servers are catalog models. 

We talked about other things too. We came up with some diagnostic questions for every relationship: Are you happier or sadder now? What about life has gotten easier or harder? Do you like it better than being single? Are the questions you have about yourself any different from what they were before?

We were perched on these high chairs with our legs crossed, and it’s one of those friendships where the knee you grab when you have something to say isn’t yours, and you don’t need to use the little plates they give to each of you for sharing food. We pulled out a notebook and made diagrams, as usual, this time by candlelight. That restaurant must spend a thousand dollars on wax every week. We asked the bartender to roll our food slowly and sat there for just under three hours, taking our time picking the figs and tarragon out from among the glistening tomatoes and soaking every last bit of goat cheese in vinegar. Everything was delicious and salty. Cold fish and the last of the summer tomatoes, itty bitty figs, goat cheese and roasted corn and charred cabbage in a bed of stewed beans and wet herbs, and what I can only assume were Harry’s Berries in a bowl of loose cream and vanilla bean custard. I wanted a second one, but we were too full. We should have ordered it anyway. 

I think about Juliet whenever I start to hate myself for thinking about love. I love that she does and want to know every thought. It seems good to try to turn that curiosity onto myself. She drove me back to Ethan and Elvira’s with the roof open and the windows down, and the air felt warm and wet the way it often does in October in LA, and seemingly everyone hates except for me. I let it wash over me. 

We turned the corner near the sports club and I started to mourn that there wouldn’t be enough time to get to everything; there never will be, I’m guessing. We parked outside the apartment and held hands, staring out at the road, savoring our last threads and sharing this feeling of anticipatory girlhood that I suspect never quite goes away, at least not until your parents die, and then you’re really a woman. We’re always in puberty, we concluded, and then we said I love you and goodnight and I came into the house. 

I let Ethan and Elvira tuck me into bed on their couch with a burrito for a nightcap. I fell asleep before Elvira finished her crossword… piles of used limes on the table, Ethan at his desk charging my brick before my flight, air thick and heavy from an evening spent detangling his hair. They finished my laundry for me with the lights low.

This morning I went for a walk before anyone else woke up. Elvira washed four apples for me and kept the stickers for her notebook. While I folded my clothes, she sat on the couch, carefully rubbing remnant adhesive from each fruit, and now I’m eating one on the plane to DC. 

Tomorrow I will decorate a cake, and then I will eat pork shoulder braised in fruit with my friends. Monday morning I have flight back to California, but that is Sunday’s problem. 

i fell in a wet ditch on the street

and then I screenshotted these texts from today

 

Update for Grampa

Dear Grampa, 

I’m doing okay, good even, here in DC, where it's 90º and sunny. I miss you every day. I used to think people were exaggerating when they said that kind of thing, you know, after people died, but I get it now. 

Many things have changed. For one, I’m not with that guy anymore. I’m not with anyone, actually. I think I prefer it that way, that this has actually been really good for me, but I wonder when that will change. I cut a lot of my hair off; Dad thinks I’m going to meet someone soon. Those things seem to be related in his head. 

I think a lot about whether you’d be proud of me, whether you’d be happy for me. I’ve made a lot of mistakes this last year — selfish things, silly things. Things that make me want to be little again, want nothing I do to matter. I wonder what mistakes you made at my age, how you dealt with them, or if you let God deal with them for you. 

I wish I could ask you how you felt about yourself and your life when you were 27. Were you sure of anything? 

I wish I could spend one more day with you on the couch, asking you question after question about your life. To this you’d probably ask me why, and I think the real answer is that I hope I could gather some kind of sense of self from stories of who you are and where you’ve been, in the way that heritage seems to leave others with little to think about who they are in the world. But this is also an unfair read of everyone around me, and your story is your story, you might say, and not mine. And you’d encourage me to make my own anyway. It did always seem like you were seeking invention, self-invention or real. 

And so the conversation turns to what I have been doing. What I am building, what I am proud of. What I want to invent. 

I’m building a life, a nice, easy life, here in DC. It is a little weird doing this so far from home, but you did this too, didn’t you? You would have been right around my age, and you and Gramma had Dad. Did it ever make you feel funny? The weird thing is that I don’t feel like it’s that deliberate. I’ve found myself here, and so here I am. I’m making friends, I’m cooking for people. Stuff that’s always been part of our lives. 

I have two jobs, too. At Job #1, I do creative direction and storytelling in science and technology policy, trying to help the government maintain global leadership in science and in AI. That’s why I’m in DC.

Job #2 is a creative studio called Spaghetti Dog that I started with my friend Maddy. We take all kinds of jobs, mostly in LA, and the core of what we do is connect people who have something to say to the people who should hear it, and we make sure that story is as alive as can be. I worked on a wedding last year for my friends, and I produced and edited their love story to be told by fourteen of their closest friends before a live audience of 90 guests. Earlier this year, I was backstage at the Hollywood Bowl to see an artist I was working for briefly, pinching myself and taking ginger shots for my stomach. I creative directed some visuals for her festival performances, and I’m working on an upcoming album release for someone so kind and talented. I’m getting closer and closer to the dream of getting to build worlds around music. I make things with my hands: small crafts, like knitting, and installations for events. I think of you and your dreamy, meticulous sketches and your prototypes all the time, and I make my own. I built a 6’x10’ foamcore display inside the Library of Congress recently after completing a test build the day before in my office. You’d have probably had a better solution than painter’s putty for the thing I had to fix at the last minute, but I think you’d have been proud of how I did it. 

On the side, I’m not building parade floats or having hundreds of people over in my backyard for egg rolls, but I’m nurturing my little corner of the world. In March, I hosted a springtime camp for the creative women in my life, all the way out in rural Washington. I’m having friends over at Mom and Dad’s in September. I just hosted my first album listening party on Wednesday and today I’m getting together with my friend Lydia to plan out the next few months of music. 

I look roughly the same as I always have, though a few things are new. My hair is back to the same length it was when I was three. Instead of two ear piercings, I have five, and there’s a rock in my belly button. I’ve only gotten two more tattoos besides the one of your hands. They say it’s addicting, but I seem to have calmed down for now. 

I have a best friend in San Francisco. She just got married and they have a new cat. I also have dear, dear friends in Boston, New York, LA (do you remember Juliet?), Chicago, and here in DC. Life these days is so distributed. I think of you and Grampa Bob and your matching shoes, a fifteen minute drive away from each other. 

All of this makes me wonder what’s next. Not in an I’m in a rush sort of way, but as in I’m wondering what this will all lead to. But I guess I can cover that in the next update.

P.S. I’ve been thinking about volunteering lately. Anytime someone asks me for cash, I see you and the dollar bills you kept neatly in your wallet. I take out cash at the grocery store so we can give it together. 

potatoes for elvira

hi love, 

these potatoes are for you. I can’t make them for you in person, so this is the next best thing. You do need a day's notice to make these. It's also not hard work, but this is a recipe that moves somewhat slowly. I like to make it while calling friends like you.

Ingredients:

1. 1 Trader Joe's bag of gold potatoes. Alternatively, get like 7-8 big gold potatoes. 
2. Pinch of baking soda
3. Diamond crystal kosher salt
4. A few glugs of olive oil
5. 2 cloves of garlic
6. 1 lemon, preferably unwaxed 
7. 3 tbsp butter
8. Dried oregano
9. Black pepper grinder

Supplies:

1. Pot 
2. Sheet pan 
3. Thin metal spatula 

Instructions:

1. The day before you make the potatoes:
1. Get a half pot of water boiling with a palmful of salt and a tablespoon of baking soda. 
2. Peel and cut the potatoes into 1.5-2 inch chunks. I took this picture to give you a sense of how big I cut them: 
   
   
   
3. Boil them uncovered for 12-15 minutes. A lot of recipes call for these to be parboiled, but I actually just cook them all the way. This is a recipe that benefits from negligence. 
4. When they're soft when stabbed with a fork, fish them out into a bowl, toss in like 3 tbsp olive oil, then shake the bowl until all the potatoes look fuzzy and there's mashed potato forming on the sides of the bowl. 
5. Lay them out on the baking sheet to dry. Once they've stopped steaming, set them in the fridge uncovered overnight. 
2. The next day:
1. Set a rack in the middle of your oven and preheat it to 450º. When the oven is ready, get the potatoes straight in from the fridge. Set a timer for 45 minutes.
2. Grate two garlic cloves and a whole lemon into a bowl using a microplane, then add few tsp of oregano and a few cracks of black pepper. 
3. Melt 3 tbsp butter on low in a small saucepan over the stove, and dump the garlic and lemon and spices in. After 1-2 minutes, when it smells loud but not burnt, take it off and put it in the bottom of a bowl big enough for the potatoes. (It’s important that you actually cook the lemon zest in the butter; if you don’t, it will turn the butter bitter.) 
4. Like 45-55 minutes later, when the potatoes are deeply browned at the edges and on the sides but the bottoms aren't literally black, take the pan out of the oven and let it rest for 5 minutes. (The potatoes will be easier to scrape off if you wait a second.)
5. Scrape the potatoes off and put them in the bowl. 
6. If you're ready to serve them, toss them with the lemon butter and eat them all immediately. If you need time before serving and they get cold, throw them back in at 425º for 7-8 minutes and then toss them with the butter.

Enjoy your chicken, send me pictures. Love you <3