Hey friends,
To see the Diego Rivera murals and the Zapata exhibit at the Palace of Fine Arts in downtown Mexico City, we took the metro to the Salto de Agua stop and walked north a few blocks up Calle Lopez, where the sidewalks are hemmed in by street vendors on one side and tiny food shops on the other - so many chickens being hacked up in the sun or turning on spits, fresh masa chugging through the tortilla machine, huge comals spitting with peppers and chopped meat, rows of folks seated at counters eating soup and reading the paper before heading back to work.
In Mexico City, the food moments that stood out most for me were not the ones in restaurants with full-size napkins. They were at taco stalls, tostada counters, homey fondas with handwritten menus, and at our Airbnb.
On the few occasions we’ve traveled out of the country with our kids, we keep our itineraries minimal. So in Mexico we ate breakfast at home most mornings and dinner about four of the 10 nights we were there. Plus a lot of quesadillas in the in-between moments. Gathering up ingredients at the market and cooking them is one of my favorite vacation activities, regardless of where we are.
In our kitchen near Chapultepec park, we simmered black beans with loads of peppers and fresh tomatillo salsa and ate them alongside warm-from-the-shop tortillas, fresh-squeezed orange juice from the juice guy around the corner and sliced avocadoes squirted with lime. I fried day-old tortillas until they crisped and topped them with chunks of perfectly greasy leftover rotisserie chicken, smoky chipotle salsa, and more avocado and lime. Strong, citrusy margaritas, grasshoppers sprinkled in my breakfast tacos, crumbled bits of dulce de leche candy for dessert.
The way we cooked there was a short-term version of the way I cook at home. Ordinary home cooking (especially when I have enough time to sink into it) lights me up: using good ingredients and simple techniques, minimizing waste, and being creative with what’s on hand so you can feed your people well.
Even the simple cooking we did on vacation was enough to re-ignite the spark in my cooking life at home - which gets tamped down by the day-to-day loop of buttered noodles, tacos, and pizza. But I’ve been trying: this week I made time to cook.
Sunday afternoon was for turkey stock, some for the freezer, some for a pot of soup with cumin, lentils and chard. I thawed white beans and simmered them with chopped broccoli rabe; made a batch of chocolate chip cookies; and one night when Galen took the kids to swim class, I made cauliflower bolognese for dinner two nights later (for the record, the kids had Popeye’s on the side that night).
This week’s cooking felt purposeful. Not only do we all need to eat dinner, but I realized, while cooking on vacation, that I needed more space for cooking in real life. And once I made that space, the spark returned. Weird how that works.
*mural is Man at the Crossroads by Diego Rivera.
CARE FOR:
In this section, I highlight stuff that gets me thinking about the forms and functions of care and how we express it. Have something you want to share? Tell me!
This week I’ve read a number of pieces that speak to how we raise boys and what we expect of men.
We Come From Old Virginia, an essay in Trick Mirror by Jia Tolentino about rape culture and its origins at the University of Virginia. “The truth about rape is that it’s not exceptional. It’s not anomalous. And there is no way to make that into a satisfying story.”
File under absolutely unacceptable. Anti-woman injustice in Alabama.
We need a new definition of masculinity - the current one is not helping boys or girls. This piece by Peggy Ornstein, based on themes from her new book, Boys & Sex, gives an alarming account of how ideas of masculinity are forged for boys.
WE ALL GOTTA EAT:
It’s true. Here’s one thing I’m cooking these days:
So - the cauliflower bolognese in this month’s print Bon Appetit is pretty great, even though I inadvertently left out the cup of parm, I used all olive oil since we were out of butter, and not as much as it calls for at the end. I had some fried bread crumbs so I sprinkled those over the top, added some parsley, too. I am unable to follow a recipe straight. Would definitely make again. Here’s the Bon App recipe:
INGREDIENTS
12 oz. mushrooms, such as shiitake or crimini, stems removed
1 medium head of cauliflower (about 2¼ lb.), broken into florets
¼ cup plus 2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter, divided
1 large onion, finely chopped
6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 chile, such as serrano, Holland, or Fresno, thinly sliced, or ½ tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
1 Tbsp. finely chopped rosemary
⅓ cup double-concentrated tomato paste
Kosher salt
1 lb. rigatoni
2 oz. finely grated Parmesan (about 1 cup), plus more for serving
3 Tbsp. finely chopped parsley
½ lemon
RECIPE PREPARATION
Pulse mushrooms in a food processor until finely chopped. Transfer to a small bowl. Wipe out food processor bowl.
Working in 3 batches, pulse cauliflower in food processor until pieces are about the size of a grain of rice (some smaller and some larger ones are fine), transferring to a medium bowl as you go.
Heat ¼ cup oil and 2 Tbsp. butter in a large heavy pot over medium-high. Add mushrooms and cook, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, 4–6 minutes. Add onion and 2 Tbsp. oil to pot. Cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is very soft and golden brown, 6–8 minutes. Add garlic, chile, and rosemary and cook, stirring occasionally, until garlic is softened and mixture is very fragrant, about 3 minutes. Add tomato paste and cook, stirring constantly, until paste is slightly darkened, about 2 minutes. Add cauliflower and cook, yes, still stirring occasionally, until cauliflower is cooked down slightly and begins to stick to bottom of pot, 6–8 minutes. Season with salt, then keep warm over low heat.
Meanwhile, cook pasta in a large pot of boiling salted water, stirring occasionally, until almost al dente, about 1 minute less than package directions.
Using a slotted spoon, transfer pasta to pot with sauce. Add 1 cup Parmesan, remaining 2 Tbsp. butter, and 1 cup pasta cooking liquid. Increase heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until pasta is al dente and sauce is clinging to pasta, about 3 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in parsley. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt (it'll probably need another pinch or two). Finely zest lemon over pasta and toss once more.
Divide pasta among bowls. Top with more Parmesan, then drizzle with oil.