40 in forty: the import of good knives

If you cook anything ever, my greatest advice is to invest in high-quality, sharp knives and keep them that way. 

Not only are sharp knives infinitely more effective than dull ones, they're also much more fun to work with and a great deal safer. A clean cut made by a finely whetted blade will heal more quickly and neatly than will a jagged wound made by a toothless steel. I've been to the ER two or three times with deeply slivered fingers; once I got stitches, once the skin glue, and I have no discernible scars to show. Fantastic!

A honed blade slicing briskly through a silky green zucchini or the thick rind of a vivid orange never fails to delight me. It is efficient, quiet until the cutting board stops the forward motion with a pleasing thud. Cut, thud, begin anew.

You might recall this lengthy post Tom and I co-wrote a few years back. He is the knife sharpener in our home, keeping stones at the ready for both German and Japanese knives whose blades are honed at different angles. We have several Wusthofs, 3 or 4 Globals, and now, thanks to my friend, Mary, a fabulous Kamata (a generations-old Tokyo store that sells fabulous knives that are sharp as get-out).

Because I still feel low today, I decided to take an hour and do just what I wanted. What I wanted to do was make a gorgeous vin pamplemousse that my friend Ginger recently made and posted on Instagram. I think she based her recipe on Heidi Swanson's, and Heidi rarely misses (really never!), so I knew it'd be fab.

Vin pamplemousse is basically a fortified grapefruit wine made with rosé, vodka, sugar and grapefruit. Ginger (and Heidi) use a variety of citrus which, as you might know, is having a wonderful season right now. Mandarins, blood oranges, ruby reds, gold nuggets, Meyers...it is citrus heaven at Whole Foods, and I love citrus. I omitted the vanilla bean G and H use but otherwise followed Ginger's instructions to a T.

I thought, during all my chopping, about what a pleasure it was to be able to ignore my malaise by being able to easily slice gloriously even rounds of beautiful, pungent fruit. I considered how much I love a crisp, cool glass of Lillet pamplemousse on warm spring and summer evenings, and how much better a homemade version might taste.

all the citrus

a Cara Cara orange

The methodical, productive, simple act of cleaning and slicing and layering many beautiful pieces into a more beautiful whole was a welcome reprieve from an otherwise busy, demanding day. So often, those feelings of creation and focus, contemplation and peace are why I cook and miss the kitchen when I'm away for too long.

Sharp knives make every bit of those experiences better.

ready for sugar, vodka and rosé

On a cold dark night, she put her foot down

I am tired today. Have been since I awoke. Last week was long; jet-lag, dealing with the kids' jet-lag, readying our old house to go on the market, illness, prepping Jack for his camping trip, welcoming an exhausted (but happy) Jack back from his camping trip, telling Oliver about Percy, preparing to tell Jack about Percy, digging out my winter parka and sadly putting it on. 

I am tired and I have felt increasingly constricted, folding inward as if trying to shield myself from one.more.to-do. I have not read the paper, the laundry is not folded, undercurrents of rage and dismay are coursing through my veins.

Not rage at any one thing, but rage against life's relentlessness and a dismay about that fact. The rage that comes from being overtaxed and underhelped. From feeling cold. This is a familiar feeling for many. It doesn't worry me, it doesn't put me off when I see it in others. I understand. But I don't like it.

What bothers me most about these shadowy pits is that in them, I lose elasticity. I can sense the way my posture changes, the way my usually glowing face darkens as if under the shadow of a pregnant storm cloud. 

I stop feeling expansive and generous. My sense of humor goes AWOL. I want to shutter, close for the season, throw huge swaths of stuff and obligations out, and start anew tomorrow or next week, after I've burrowed in a flannel blanket and wrung the chill right out. 

I don't have anything for you tonight except these truths. That in the face of overwhelm and waves of Legos and bobos and joy and a fourth trip to the DMV and more laundry and whining and dust bunnies and freeze warnings in April, hunkering down is a very fine option. 

Refusing to help with baths or "watch me, watch me" one more time tonight and instead cooking a good meal (this one-pot chicken and sumac onion dish really is so very good; go me!) to share with Tom is how I put my foot down today. Tonight. A small action, a needed one. It starts again tomorrow.

chicken with caramelized sumac onions and israeli couscous

Write things down and jump

It must have been four years ago now, or maybe five. I was a newbie blogger, still in my infancy and green as can be. Family was coming into town, but I heard about the Eat Write Retreat being hosted in DC and with little more than "Wow, that sounds like a great opportunity!" registered, apologized to my guests for the two-day absence I'd insinuated into their visit, and promised that our Cinco de Mayo party would still be had.

At Eat Write, I met some fabulous people. Jess, Casey, Evi...I'm so happy to know you, even though our paths have hardly crossed in the flesh since. Monica Bhide challenged me to define Em-i-lis in one word. I immediately said, "authentic." "Good" she said. "Now write down your concrete goals for the next year."

Write them down. Hold yourself accountable. Trust in yourself enough to believe that they could come true. You don't need to share these. No one might ever know.

"Write them down," she said. 

And so I did. They happened. Successfully.

Inspired by what can happen if you see something and simply jump towards it, I attended BlogHer the next year and also took a photography class. Later it was writing classes, more conferences, the opening of Em-i-lis Catering, teaching classes of my own, and a greater involvement in the Food52 community in DC. 

Many of those ideas and plans were once nothing more than brain dust and day-dreamy what ifs. What brought them to fruition was little more than a leap. It didn't occur to me not to try, and for that I'm grateful. Such fearlessness has not always been a defining trait of mine. I'm not even sure "fearlessness" in any way defines me now.

More, it's that comfort and confidence in ones own skin makes taking chances hardly seem like risky business. Don't get me wrong; I'm still really nervous sometimes but the angst comes after the blissfully un-angsty leap.

Do y'all know that when I took my first big catering job (for 50!), I'd never before cooked for more than 15? I'm not even kidding. It's distinctly possible that naive woefully under-describes my state of mind then, but I'm awfully glad for the jejune perspective that prompted me to say "100 hundred tea sandwiches to start? You got it!" 

It really didn't occur to me that I couldn't cook for 50. And it could have been disastrous. But I did and it wasn't. On the contrary, that meal was a roaring success.

Not everything has gone as swimmingly, but by and large, I'm wholly satisfied. Not least because it's been a long time since I said with regret, "If only..."

my desk right now. seriously.

My 40 in forty for today: Set goals (big and small; literally, what do you want to do today/what do you want to DO today), write them down (critical step; don't cheat), read them aloud (whispering in your corner or screaming into the winds are both acceptable means of reading aloud), and get busy. Jump.

What's the worst that can happen? Really! Go!