Some thoughts on life and food right now, and five simple, comforting recipes.
THE OTHER NIGHT ON OUR NEIGHBORHOOD WALK, Marion said two things she was missing most right now were us getting in the car and going to see one of our daughters—both live driving distance away—and the two of us going to some little place for cocktails and dinner. A place like Martin’s Corner.
Martin’s Corner is one of our neighborhood spots, an unassuming cash-only bar with reliable cocktails and a good kitchen that turns out delicious meatloaf, pork chops and other hearty American fare, all made fresh. We can walk there and often do on a midweek night when neither of us feels like cooking. Martin’s is dark and silent now, as are most bars and restaurants across our city—and in towns and cities across the country.
Besides missing evenings there and at Skylark and the Barrel and Bob’s Pizza, we worry for them. The businesses and their staffs. We hope everyone is okay and will be okay, but we are not hopeful.
We are doing okay now, better than many are, we know. We can both work from home—and are being busy, in fact. We both cook and have laid in plenty of supplies. We’re fortunate to live in a big city with access to many kinds of deliveries—and that there are people doing these vital jobs. We connect with our kids and Marion’s sister on almost a daily basis, via texts and FaceTime. Sunday dinners via Zoom are becoming part of our family routine.
But like everyone, we are worried and angry about the COVID-19 situation—how so little was done for so long, how little is still being done and how little many with the power to do something seem to care. And what the new normal will look like and how long until we actually get there.
On a more personal, perhaps petty note, we are also antsy. As I write this, it has been more than four weeks since either of us has been inside any building that isn’t our house. Our one saving grace is our new ritual, neighborhood walks. We try to walk every day, usually at night, when our work day is done and there are fewer people out. Yes, we social distance from others, crossing the street if necessary. And yes, we are now wearing masks, colorful ones Marion has made from leftover quilting fabric.
But we are walking, wandering in random directions every night, basking in the varied visual richness of our neighborhood. Spotting architectural details and anomalies, admiring and critiquing design choices both old and new. And indulging in a guilty pleasure of ours, residential voyeurism. Everybody’s home! Lights are on! Checking out wall colors, art on the walls (or lack thereof), light fixtures, the size of televisions—and what’s being watched on them. And we talk. Or not. But we always return home feeling so glad we walked.
As I said, we both cook. These days, we’re often cooking from what’s on hand and about to go bad, or at least not still frozen; we cook from muscle memory, turning those random things into “something kind of like…” And we cook for maximum comfort with possible leftovers. Next week, we may be back with a new recipe. In the meantime, here are some of our go-tos, for making use of pantry and fridge staples, for being simple to make, or for the simple comfort they deliver.
Spaghetti a Cacio e Pepe. It doesn’t get any simpler than this. A pot of boiling water and four basic ingredients—salt, pepper, spaghetti and Romano (or Parmesan)—create a satisfying, beloved Roman classic. You’ll find the recipe here.
Instant Pot Mexican Black Beans. Did you recently stockpile dried beans like most of us? You’re in luck. With Marion’s recipe, you don’t even have to soak them. Or sauté anything. Just put all of your ingredients, including lard, various aromatics and a couple of other things in your Instant Pot. In less than an hour, you’ll be eating luxuriously creamy, savory black beans, either as a meal on its own or as a show-stealing side.
Egg Drop Soup. As much as we like to cook, we genuinely miss eating restaurant food these days. Even—or sometimes especially—humble, but soul-satisfying fare like Chinese egg drop soup. The exact opposite of homemade tasting, this simple six-ingredient recipe is restaurant authentic.
Midnight Spaghetti. Okay, this takes a few more ingredients than Cacio e Pepe—canned anchovies, capers, red pepper flakes—but as its name suggests, it is easy and quick enough to make late at night, even if you’ve been, shall we say, overindulging. This dish, another Roman favorite, could single-handedly make drunk cooking a thing.
Marion’s Chili. It was 81 in Chicago yesterday. Thursday, the high will be in the 40s. But we don’t need cold temperatures as an excuse to make chili—especially this robust, delicious version. It’s made mostly with pantry staples, including three kinds of canned beans. Eat it the first night plain, then dress up leftovers as chili mac or chili dogs.
Be safe, everyone. Cook and eat and take care of yourselves. And each other.
I love Marion’s chili; I made a batch recently, and half is frozen away for the future. I may be making croissants soon. I’ve wanted to make them since I took French in high school, but never got around to doing so.
I hope you and your loved ones continue to be in good health. Take care!
Croissants, Eeka! I feel brave if I bake a banana bread. But studying French really does hook you into that wonderful culture, doesn’t it? Good luck with those—and good health to you and your loved ones.
This is one of your best pieces and the recipes look great!
Thank you so much, Susie. We are all just trying to get through this as whole as possible.
The one upside to everyone staying at home is the more frequent texting and emailing. My granddaughter has just made her first sourdough starter and I love that she texted to tell me.
My family has been fortunate both with health and wfh ~ one even got a raise.
Happy to hear that you are all well. Continue to take care.
You guys are lucky to be able to go for long walks. We have to stay within a 1-kilometer radius of our home, and can only walk alone (or with a dog, which we don’t have), so there’s no going out for a stroll for the two of us into this glorious springtime with the poppies covering the roadsides and the orchards blooming and the wild orchids and chamomile coloring the hillsides. So we’re turning our attention to gardening; this may be the best garden we’ve ever had here, because……..what else is there to do? We’re deep into local lore about borage and hyssop and black radish and wild mint (seeding all of those as well as gathering them on our solo forays to forage) and rose hips. Tinctures and elixirs are in our future. And nettles – oh, the glories of nettles! And we have so many!
We’ve learned to make a lot of breads, too, something that scared us off in the past. Some of those no-knead recipes are fabulous for novices like us. And our dumpling skills are coming along.
We have been having weekly “drop-off” meals with our Canadian neighbors down the lane. One couple makes a main dish, and the other does side dishes and dessert. Someone offers a bottle of wine – maybe, hopefully, we both do. We package our goodies in a market basket and meet at the end of our driveway and exchange baskets, being bemusedly careful to stay 2 meters away from each other. Last week Steve grilled a leg of lamb to perfection with a rub of herbs from our garden and olive oil and lemon and I think some harissa, and the Canadians offered a composed salad (with all the parts in individual containers – they are far more fussy than we are), roasted potatoes with grainy mustard, and strawberry shortcake with one of those whipped cream bombs for dessert.
This coming weekend, the Canadians are roasting a pork tenderloin with fresh herbs, mainly sage, and we are providing the accompaniments. I will make my favorite spring soup, a moronically simple blend of romaine lettuce, a couple of handsful of peas, and a huge bunch of fresh spearmint all simmered in chicken or vegetable stock until tender, then whirred together with some crème fraîche and served cold, warm, or hot, sprinkled with dill if we have it. We’ll also roast new potatoes with lemon and dill, and for dessert I’ve managed to find something to do with the can of mango pulp we got free with an order from an Asian market: a simple mango ice cream made with the pulp, sweet concentrated milk, whipped cream, and saffron. Served with crushed pistachios. The Canadians, I hope, will supply the wine because, well, their tastebuds are more refined than ours when it comes to imbibing.
This is how we are passing the hours on our hillside here. It’s different, but it’s not awful yet. We really, really miss the café moments and the outdoor markets and truly worry about all the small producers and businesses around here, but all things considered we are pleased with the way the French are handling this horrible crisis. And we are healthy and engaged, and very mindful of how lucky we are.
Stay safe and healthy, everyone!
Dani and Mellen, thank you for your thoughtful comments. It is heartening to see how people are adapting, working to create life and routines and simple, comforting pleasures in this unprecedented time. And I’ll mirror your wishes for everyone to stay safe and healthy.