A Late Spring Dinner at Roman’s

RECS #37: A weird mystery novel, playoff basketball, and the pleasures of warm weather.

Dear friends,

I started this newsletter in early 2023 with the goal of introducing a regular writing practice back into my life. I was a couple years into my career and post-grad life, and I’d found that, without externally imposed deadlines (however arbitrary they may be), I struggled to motivate myself to simply sit down and write. This space helped. Over the past two years, I’ve used it to try and learn to write viscerally about food and eating. It’s been an accidental log of most of the books I’ve read, shows I’ve watched, and restaurants I’ve dined at. I’ve logged my travels, near and far, and wrote sappily about being in love—romantically and platonically. The last few months have been clogged with various tasks to the point that, in my limited free time, I’m once again struggling to find the motivation, and the time, to write.

These weekly dispatches have become every-other-week in the past few months and, for now, that cadence feels more reasonable. I hope that I’ll return to sending missives every Monday at some point in the near future—maybe once I figure achieve the ever-elusive goal of “having it all.” Anyways, here’s what we’ve missed.

Reading: I finished “Leaving” a few weeks ago and found the second half more disappointing than the first. By the time it was finished, I found most of the characters to be exhausting in their own self-absorption, but I do still think reading it felt a lot like how watching a Nancy Meyers’ movie feels. It made me want to rewatch “It’s Complicated” for the zillionth time. Now, I’m reading Olga Tokarczuk’s Nobel Prize-winning novel “Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead.” It’s weird and vivid, and it’s deeply philosophical. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by how much I’m enjoying it. I’ve also enjoyed this piece about the ubiquity of pickles, and how maybe we don’t need to pickle-ify everything. The Cultured CULT 100 list has also been so fun to pick through. And, as it’s been said, this list is so much cooler and more on the pulse than Forbes 30 under 30. I also really enjoyed this sweet newsletter about how to make work days better. I spend so much time at the office now, and I particularly appreciate rule no. 11: move. As it gets warmer, it’s a good reminder to just step away and get some sunshine. If nothing else, it helps keep me awake. Also, last minute addition is, of course, Brock Colyar’s survey of the girlies of the West Village. With an anthropologist’s precision, they capture this neighborhood and its populace so well.

Pastry case at Hani's; fava bean dip at Roman's; spreads and pita at Miss Ada

Eating: I’ve eaten so much and so well in the past three weeks. The highlights include: the cinnamon roll from Hani’s Bakery in the East Village that I picked up—along with a shakshuka tart and hibiscus morning bun—after a long, sweaty eight miles with my run club; the ravioli of ramps and fava bean dip from Roman’s that Conor and I shared on Friday night after a couple cocktails and a walk in the park; and the muhammara from Miss Ada that my family enjoyed on Easter, alongside fluffy pita, creamy hummus, and sour labneh. Jamie visited this past week and for a spontaneous dinner on Wednesday night, we dined at Emmett’s on Grove which is always a scene, but their Chicago-style thin crust pizza with pepperoni, jalapeños, onions, and paprika ranch remains a comforting favorite. The Neapolitan-style pizza we had at Oma Grassa a couple weeks before was also delectable, but I think we may not have ordered quite right. Other honorable mentions include the panang curry and pad see ew from Sala Thai that Conor and I picked up after a walk through Central Park. And, last but certainly not least, the salty, creamy, spicy Sephardi breakfast wrap from Edith’s that I enjoyed in the company of Jamie and Andrea on Friday morning was the perfect way to start the weekend. It was a good few weeks of eating.

Consuming: Other than my weekly shows (“Hacks,” “The Last of Us,” “The Valley”), I’ve been really enjoying watching playoff basketball. The Lakers are out, but I’ve also been paying close attention to the Knicks because rooting for New York teams while living in New York is so much fun. This past Monday, my mom, sister, and I went to the 92nd Street Y to watch the first two episode of Tina Fey’s new show “The Four Seasons,” and then, to listen to a panel featuring Fey, Will Forte, Erika Henningsen, and Fey’s co-creators, Travey Wigfield and Lang Fisher (who also co-created “30 Rock”). I’ve been surprised by how much I’m enjoying it. It’s corny and it involves a bunch of people experiencing a stage of life that is, for me, decades away. But I’ve laughed out loud, and I’ve found the relationships between these friends to be endearing and admirable.

Central Park; 92NY; Fort Greene!

Savoring: I have generally liked to believe that I am absolved of seasonal depression—that after growing up under the ceaseless Los Angeles sun, I know how to appreciate seasons and the habits they inspire. And it’s true, I do enjoy having the excuse of winter for cooking hearty soups, going to sleep early, and bundling up in thick sweaters. But, as we crept into late March and early April, and the weekends continued to be dark, stormy, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I was a bit depressed. The past couple weeks have redeemed this city for me. The parks that sandwich my neighborhood are bursting with colors, and creaky metal folding tables have started to adorn most sidewalks. I’m eager to be outside and in the world in a way I was not just a month ago. Even on Saturday, as sweat trickled down my back any time I moved, dirtying all my clothes, I was just happy to be outside.

Until next time,

Erin