After knowing me for a few months, most people replace the typical greeting of, “How have you been?” with the more useful, “Where have you been?” Those who I haven’t seen in awhile tend to get an answer that sounds like a list, and those who I haven’t seen in a very long while abandon the question entirely.
Suffice to say, I move a lot, and it’s been a very, very long time since I’ve been back in my native New York for more than a few weeks at Christmas. This year, all that has changed. I’m back in the land of bagels, lox and incredible pizza from John’s on Bleecker.
Returning home is strange for everyone, I think. I’m watching as my brother, a freshman in college, realizes this for the first time at eighteen: when you leave home, coming back is more like picking up where you left off. Your family may be aware on some level of the fact that when you leave the house, you actually continue living your life, meeting people, making decisions and mistakes, learning things and forgetting others, but when you actually appear at the doorway, your hair in dire need of a haircut and your laundry in dire need of washing, it’s all too easy for everyone around you to send you to the barber, toss you a box of detergent and treat you as though you had never left.
I’ve gotten used to toning down some of the developments in my life when I come home. I know now that some things are better left unsaid, and I’ve stopped vying for my time to speak at the dinner table, instead letting the normalcy wash over me, getting used to what has become the status quo in a place where I used to live. I’m used to having my own space, my own time and, especially, my own kitchen, things that are not the case when I’m living in my parents’ house.
This is one of the last things I made before leaving Paris for New York. It’s bright and delicious and perfectly light for starting those New Years’ diets for all of three seconds. I have several pictures from those last few days, and that’s probably all you’ll get while I’m here in New York, where the kitchen is most definitely not my domain, where I squat on a couch and live out of a suitcase. It’s not bad–just different, although I have to admit that when my cousin came back from Paris for the holidays and asked if I was sorry not to be standing in front of the stove instead of sitting in front of the television, I took pause.
And then I decided that the answer was no. I love cooking, don’t get me wrong, but this isn’t my kitchen, and in New York, my mother does the cooking. I may miss it now and again–that sense of possibility that comes from standing in front of a cutting board, reaching for ingredients without actually being sure what you’ll do. I miss serving what I’ve made to other people and watching as they enjoy it.
I’ll be leaving New York again soon… I always do. But while I’m here, I’ll be letting other people do the cooking: Barney Greengrass, John’s on Bleecker, Vico Ristorante, Artisanal… and, of course, my mother.
Lentil and Rosemary Soup with Lemon (adapted from Running with Tweezers)
1 tsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced
1 cup lentils
6 cups water
1 large rosemary sprig
1 lemon, cut in half, juiced, fruit and juice separated
salt and pepper
In a large stockpot, heat the oil and add the onion and celery. Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent, 10 minutes.
Add the garlic and season with salt and black pepper. Add the lentils, water, rosemary and lemon, reserving the juice for later. Cover and cook until lentils are cooked through, stirring occasionally, about 30 minutes.
Remove from heat and remove and discard lemon and rosemary sprig. Using an immersion blender, purée to desired texture. Stir in remaining lemon juice and season with salt and pepper.
Optionally, you can garnish the soup with olive oil, parsley or parmesan cheese.