Happy New Year. I am taking today to quietly contemplate the beauty of food, the passage of the shitshow 2015 revealed itself to be, and stave off any impending emotions that come upon my realization that this year, I graduate, lose my cushy healthcare, take the bar, move again, or not move? I will also attempt to not kill myself in my first-ever fitness-based competition and complete the dry yet poignant and relevant novel that I have been working on since November, buy pet insurance, contribute to my IRA, cook more, and get a job. I have no resolutions. I have resolved myself to a bleak, exciting adulthood. That’s good enough for me.But today, I’m taking a goddamned break. All of that comes later. Are you ready for this? Are you ready?
I’m not.So maybe you stayed in bed today. So did I. I got out probably twice, once to pee, and the other time to make sandwiches. The third time will be to pee again, so for the sake of the healthy majority, I’ll focus on the sandwiches. This year, my father schlepped my sister to Spain, where she lost the kilogram of jamon serrano she was supposed bring back for me to customs by declaring it. Surprisingly, all of her espadrilles made it across the pond. As penance, he brought back this tin of goose confit, which I cracked open for brunch this morning.You don’t want to fuck with goose too much, although the fat and skin absorb a great deal of flavor. I briefly considered five-spice, but ended up keeping salt and chives as my chief additives. Have a good can opener on hand, as I narrowly escaped death or at the very least, stitches, while wrestling a sharp can covered in liquid fat.Regardless, it was worth the effort. The sandwich and its accoutrements popped astronomically. Sometimes it’s better to let the goose speak for itself. The scent of goose fat stuck to my hair and worked its way under my skin as I shredded it on the cutting board and crunched the skin in my fingers. Remember when I used to cook decently bizarre French cuisine? Let’s get back into that. Let’s forget the stress of the last semester. Let’s get deep into whey for a little while and go back to food on the weekends. I missed you. Maybe you missed me, too. Paired with cheddar English muffins, poached eggs, goose skin cracklings, and roasted potatoes in the reserved fat, it earned its wings and then some alongside champagne and a little Grieg in the early afternoon.Let’s get back to where we need to be.
Thanks for sticking around so far.