To say it’s been a crazy few weeks would be an absolute understatement. Last weekend was my pop-up with Farm to People, and I still am having a hard time explaining it. I spent two days prepping enough food for over 100 people, and so many of my friends and family came out to support me and this little newsletter. If you were there, thank you! Please say hello in the comments so I can give you a virtual smooch on the cheek.
It wasn’t easy. I had a full-blown meltdown on Saturday night. I was up until 3 AM crying, praying for a freak blizzard so that no one could show up. But by Sunday morning, the clouds had parted, things had settled down. My mother came in early, helped with a sauce emergency, and fixed breadcrumbs. We ran a slideshow of family photos behind the bar. People ate. They got drunk. They left happy.
I was filled with the feeling I’m sure my grandmothers got every time they cooked for an army. It’s an indescribable sensation to see people gather around plates of something that you created with love. I felt super connected to them that day, and it was yet another reminder of why I’m doing this.
And I slept incredibly well on Sunday night.
Three days after the pop-up, I turned 33. (Talk about a whirlwind.) I get introspective as a habit around my birthday, and this year that looking inward was on steroids. It feels pretty impossible that I am here, now, nowhere near where I thought I’d be, but exactly where I’m sure I’m meant to be. When I was young, by this age I figured I’d be married with children and living in the suburbs. I had no sense of ambition beyond that.
But when that future didn’t seem like it would pan out, I set about building a life for myself that I would enjoy living, even if it didn’t include a husband and kids and a house in the suburbs. I fell in love with my career first, and lived on my own, and traveled alone. I wrote and wrote and wrote. I turned my heartbreak and pain into art.
Now I look at my life and I can’t imagine how I got here. Logically I know the path I took, but it’s incredible to me that I wound up in this version of a life without any ambition toward it. I feel so incredibly lucky to be able to write about food and to share my family’s legacy with you. I don’t have a husband on paper, but I have a man I adore who is a partner. And I travel and spend time with friends who feel like family and ride my bike to work. Life is good, even though it doesn’t look like what I thought it would.
When I started this newsletter, Ben told me to just cook and not worry about the rest. And I listened, and so many amazing things followed. So even though I am not one to typically dole out advice, please allow me this one moment to tell you to throw away your expectations. Do the things you love to do and the rest will follow. It’s hard as hell, and there’s so much sacrifice, and you’re going to feel so incredibly lost. But if you set a little bit of time for yourself to focus on the things you love, things will unfurl in spectacular fashion. It’s as close to a religious belief as I’ve got right now.
And if part of that love includes making a Sunday feast, whether for yourself or for many someones, here is the menu I cooked last week. The one missing recipe is my grandmother’s famous rice balls, which were the first dish to sell out. Keep an eye out for them in the future. I do, after all, have to leave you wanting a little more, don’t I?
Thank you so much for being on this crazy journey with me. I’ll see you next week with a brand-new recipe.
Sicilian Orange Salad
Sunday Sauce
Chicken Cutlets
Eggplant Parmigiana
Lemon Cake
Happy belated birthday, Maria!! I'm glad to hear your event went well. The bowl of pasta you share in this post looks absolutely delicious, and now I want pasta for dinner this week. Maybe I'll refer back to your vodka sauce recipe and make a date night out of it. Grazie!
I took your shared introspection to heart. I am almost 31 and a half, and my life does not look like I thought it would at this age. I'm happily married. I've accomplished so much in my career already. And yet, I've come to a transitional period, and figuring out what to do next, what is going to make me happy, is a question I don't know how to answer. That scares me. But, it's creatives like you, that I empathize with and connect with on our shared passion for writing, that give me hope. That make me feel a little less lost.