Returning to the Kitchen

When I began working with W-S in June, I was forced to make compromises with my own life and passions.  The biggest of them?  The time I got to spend in my kitchen.

There's something tragicoming here... working for yet another company that sold batterie de cuisine and not getting to enjoy the rather exceptional collection I'd already amassed.  In the summer, of course, one is not usually as dedicated to intensive cooking, but sometime around August I generally am hit with a deep longing for fall cooking.  Even though the weather doesn't reflect it, I yearn for soups and roasts worthy of a cool Autumn Sunday party to watch football on TV.

Only, work had other plans for me.  As early November arrived, my boss announced his resignation, which left me, the erstwhile No. 2 in command, as something of a temporary No. 1.  What lay ahead - 55 hour weeks, intense exhaustion, anxiety, depression, and a month-and-a-half long countdown until it was all over - kept me even more out of the kitchen that I'd been previously.  Matt picked up much of the slack, making sure that we were fed, but allowing me to do what I could when I could.

I never understood how troubling this forced absence would be until I was in the midst of it.  During my time with SLT, I was allowed the time to cook, to enjoy my weekly farmer's market, to source my ingredients, and enjoy my craft.  During 2016, I believe I was able to go to the farmer's market twice.  To my knowledge, I never bought a single fresh strawberry in 2016.

As I just stood in my kitchen making pizza dough, it occurred to me that I can't possibly think of the last time I made bread.  That heady scent of flour as it commingles with yeast, salt, sugar, water, and olive oil (for this recipe, at least) is something secure and unmistakably pleasant to me.

This weekend, I plan to make chicken noodle soup, another long-absent friend.  I hope this period between jobs doesn't last too terribly long, but I'm damned determined to make the most of it while I've got the time so to do.

I remember reading Ruth Reichl's last book, My Kitchen Year: 136 Recipes That Saved My Life, a tome written as a reflection on the year after the demise of Gourmet magazine, of which Reichl was the editor.  It inevitably connected with me, both due to our shared love of the kitchen and Ms. Reichl's sumptuous, yet straightforward prose.

In mourning her career and the magazine she was so dedicated to shepherding, she found solace in the kitchen, surrounded by her lifetime's passion and work.  Reichl reconnected with the foods she loved and, in them, found meaning.

Having had the chance to speak with Reichl after her 2015 lecture at the Carnegie Music Hall in Oakland, I asked her who the next Ruth Reichl was going to be, m
eaning what was the next chapter for this woman whose life had so long been dedicated to food writing.  She replied that she didn't know, but was pretty happy with the Ruth she was right then.

I don't know what my next act will be, but I'm going to spend this brief intermission finding joy in the things I love, revisiting some fond favorites, and trying out some new recipes along the way.