In Praise of Winter Citrus
RECS #30: More Edith Wharton, "Slow Horses" and spy novels, and attempts at finding balance.
Dear friends,
I started journaling casually in 2020, as vaccines were rolling out and life was taking on a new and frighteningly unfamiliar shape. The black Moleskine I kept during that time was filled in four months. Since then, I’ve finished two more notebooks—one maroon and the other a dusty blue—but over much longer periods of time. I was sifting through them last week and found an entry from around this time last year: “I truly feel like January lasted seven lifetimes and I was in conflict with a different person in each one.” These pages are filled with my most melodramatic and irrational musings, especially when read in retrospect. I can’t even remember half the “conflicts” I dealt with last January.
Anyways, the point is that the first month of the year is not one that I tend to enjoy. And while this year started out gently with snowy, quiet days, the last couple weeks have been fraught with sleeplessness mixed with sadness and anxiety; first, as I watched L.A. erupt in flames and now, as I become inextricably deep in the news of the moment. Below are some of the things that have redeemed January, so far.
READING: For my next book club, we’ve chosen Edith Wharton’s “The Buccaneers,” which was completed and published posthumously. It follows five American girls as they make their debút and then, build a life in London’s society. I went down a small rabbit hole about the history of this novel and found this essay by John Updike on Edith Wharton which is an unsurprisingly marvelous and insightful piece of criticism. I also enjoyed this piece about why we should throw more parties—even casual, small get-togethers meant simply to bring our friends under one roof—and this newsletter on how to feel good again (necessary for the new year). I also read this restaurant review of Cocina Consuelo which reminds me that I need to make my way uptown as soon as possible.
EATING: The combination of crunchy, toasted nuts, winter citrus, and salty cheese makes my taste buds do a little dance—as it did at lunch on Monday at Pasta Night in Prospect Heights. After failing to snag a table at Smør, Maya Congee Cafe, Patti Ann’s, or Ciao, Gloria, my stomach was increasingly grumbly and my face was beginning to go numb, so we marched our cold bodies across the street to the adorable, but mostly empty Pasta Night. My meal was sweet and savory and tart. Everything I want out of a winter salad. I have no pictures because my phone battery was dwindling in the freezing temperatures, but I do have a photo of the blood orange croissant I snagged from the new bakery near my apartment after a run on Sunday morning. I went in with hopes that they’d have their delectable pink peppercorn version and, while I was initially disappointed, this citrusy pastry satisfied my craving just fine. Otherwise, I had a festive Italian feast at Il Posto to celebrate Lydia’s birthday, a casual pre-theatre dinner of juicy poached chicken and rice at the Hainon Jones stand inside Urban Hawker, and a post-date-night meal of Palestinian spreads and breads at Al Badawi.
CONSUMING: I’ve devoured the first three seasons of “Slow Horses” since the last time I wrote. It’s been all-consuming and now, I’ve decided, I need to read a spy novel to fill the inevitable gap that will come when I finally get caught up with the series. I think I’m going to pick up John le Carré’s “The Spy Who Came in From the Cold.” Conor and I also spent last Friday night catching up on “The Traitors” before our double date and watching the season premiere of “Severance” afterwards. The Oscar nominations will be released tomorrow and, in preparation for the actual ceremony, I’m planning to see both “Babygirl” and “Nickel Boys” this weekend. Most importantly, perhaps, I listened to this episode of “Modern Love,” which features a conversation on estrangement, love, and loss catalyzed by my dear friend’s essay that was published in 2023.
SAVORING: I never planned to watch the Inauguration. I assumed that I’d later read enough about it to paint myself a pretty detailed portrait of the day—from the moment Biden said “welcome home” to a scantily-clad Lauren Sanchez sitting behind Donald Trump on the dais—so I woke up Monday morning with the goal of being out and away from my phone. I did my grocery shopping, went to a pilates class, ate out for lunch, folded my laundry, had a family zoom call, and then marched to my mom’s for dinner and some football. By the time I curled up into bed, I was ready to catch up on the news of the day. It has been a challenge to think or read or talk about anything other than what’s happening in Washington, but for now, I’m trying to savor a balance. The ability to go to trivia and chat about whether sesame seeds belong in Rice Krispies treats, or gossip with coworkers about whether Boston Rob is going to make it to the end of “The Traitors.” There’s time for both things. It does me well to remember that.
Until next time,
Erin