looking out the window in september
three soups, two pints, first scattered thoughts from london
Here I am, seated at my dining table in East London. I’m lucky because through massive windows, my flat—and home of about a month now—looks right out onto a decently sized park. It’s a neighborhood park, full of an endless rotation of runners, kiddie football games, readers on benches, men hunched over smoking cigarettes, and people with bags tossed over their shoulders, shuffling on their way. The leaves are beginning to fall and collect on the ground, but the grass is still a verdant green. I’m acutely aware this might be the loveliest the park will look for a long while, so I’ve been quite happy to sit and watch.
Since I’ve sat down today, I’ve watched no fewer than four different weather patterns blow in and out. I guess that’s what people have been trying to tell me about the weather for months now—it’s not a steady rainpour, no, but rather, a destabilizing, you never know what you’re going to get, kind of climate. The rain comes, the wind gusts, and a mom and her preschooler are suddenly running past my window, grabbing for hands. I glance up again after finishing a chapter, or sending a note, and the sun is blazing through the trees, commanding a cyclist to yes, peel off that outer layer now. I wonder how I’ll begin to feel about this kind of fragility in the weather. I wonder how I’ll begin to feel about everything.
It’s nice to be behind this window, getting to watch people live their little lives beyond the glass. It’s especially nice for someone who is new; somehow who, over and over, keeps telling herself that she wishes she could be a fly on the wall, or finally be gifted that invisibility cloak she lusted after as a kid reading magic books. Yes, my existence here is a bit of that in and of itself—I walk around without the chance of anyone running into me, and I’ve arrived here without many tethers. But in response to the anonymity, I’ve been craving utter, total invisibility to get up close and personal into everybody else’s business instead. See how they go about their days and take notes on what they wear; hear how they speak, and listen to both ends of every phone call. I’m desperate to smooth the lumps that naturally come from unfamiliarity, it’s clear. After so many years in the same place, doing the same things, with the same people, it’s no surprise the lack of knowledge and understanding (of just.. everything) feels foreign and uncomfortable to me. I want to crawl into the lint-filled pockets of everyone I see and just watch for a while.
Anyways. Hi. I’ve been here settling in for about a month. I’ve spent more time alone than probably ever before, and have had more quiet than even anticipated thanks to the not one but two gnarly viruses settling into my dear, confused, uprooted body. A lot of time for thinking. The thoughts are scattered, they’re not fully formed. But they’re in good supply. I’ve started three different drafts I’m not sure how or when I’ll finish. The lists in my notes app (one simply titled ‘Britishisms’) keep multiplying. I’m thinking thinking thinking, as out-of-season fruit goes, about comfort, about home, and of course, how I’m eating and how I’m feeling. I can’t wait to continue to share. Here are some of the details on my September, what brought me distraction, healing, comfort, familiarity, and (sadly quite fleetingly:) a happy belly.
Everything I Cooked (Weird-Sick-Acclimating-Meals Edition)
Soups, Salads, and Sides
Carrot Corriander Soup from the deli section of the grocery, reheated and drizzled with a heavy hand of olive oil to add a bit more richness.
Chickpeas tossed in black pepper, turmeric, cumin, olive oil, and salt, added to some boring spring mix, all tossed with a bottled, but quite delicious honey mustard dressing. Strangely eaten several days in a row while acclimating to a new kitchen.
A version of my forever-relied-upon and Beloved Sweet Potato — quartered yams, roasted on a sheet tray at 425° for 20 minutes (but tossed every 5 minutes), served with some version of a tahini-soy sauce, based on what’s in the kitchen.
Served with steamed broccoli, served with sesame seeds.
Proteins, Pastas, and Mains
Tuna Rice Bowls with sesame seeds, stir-fried carrots, and spicy mayo.
Honey-Mustard Roasted Salmon - my mom and grandma’s go-to easy fish, and the first dinner I make when I need quick comfort and nourishment:
Mix equal parts of honey and mustard, and slather on thin fillets of salmon. Roast on a foil-lined sheet pan at 400° for 10 minutes.
Another salmon, this time Peanut Butter-Glazed. I’ve had this bookmarked forever, and it definitely delivered.
A quick little weeknight Goat Cheese + Zucchini Pasta with Lemon:
While (any shape of) pasta is boiling in salty water, get a skillet hot and oily, add minced garlic and thinly sliced zucchini, salt, and sauté on medium-high heat until softened and browning.
To the skillet, add a few spoons of goat cheese, 1/3 cup of salty pasta water, the juice from half of a lemon, and stir. Add drained pasta, and continue to stir until glossy. Top with fresh pepper and more olive oil.
A LOT OF plain white rice, chicken broth, chicken breast, oatmeal, white bread, crackers, and bananas, during the worst stomach flu I’ve ever had :) :).
Sweets, Brekkies, and Baked Bites
Maltabella—my mom’s favorite childhood malted sorghum porridge, shipped from a South African specialty store to Maryland a few months ago for fun, and then transported across the pond by me in a few Ziplocs. Breakfast, stirred with oat milk and eaten with blueberries.
I’m now in the land of Weetabix, and again, the child who grew up with a Rhodesian mother is very happy about it. To wake up for a milky mug of tea, and a bowl of Weetabix… I am a happy girl here in the mornings.
A return to the always-reliable Lemony Turmeric Tea Cake to share with my flatmates and convince them they made a good choice in picking me.
Everything I Ordered
A delicious chicken shawarma pita sandwich from Shuk, inside the touristy, bustling, but regrettably well-stocked Borough Market, for my first lunch in London.
An oat milk cortado from the 10th-floor espresso bar at the Tate Modern. Not to sound like a shitty subway ad, but honestly, Good Coffee, Better Views.
THREE SICKY SOUPS FOR A BAD WEEK ONE COLD - Miso soup, and a single tuna mayo rice ball at Toconoco. Chicken pho from Uncle Nam’s. A heavenly, spicy corn and coconut soup served with a side of crusty bread from Dusty Knuckle Bakery, a place I’m already obsessed with.
My very first pint in England! At Crown! With my flatmates, before tickets to the theatre. My second pint in English! At Myddleton Arms! With Liz (hi, Liz).
Afternoon espressos in the (precious, last bits of London) sun at both Brunswick East Bakehouse, and Gail’s Bakery in Exmouth Market.
A glass of Pet Nat and some bites of hummus (far too good to be served at a wine bar) from Nobody Asked Me, on one of my first galpal dates. :)
Fancy, Michelin-rated fried cod and chips at the Mayfair Chippy, for my one excused overpriced tourist visit of September. I’m here to admit it was entirely worth every pound! Sorry!
Everything Else!
Reading:
Joan Didion’s 1967 farewell essay to New York City, Goodbye To All That. Thanks, Anna, for the ever-appropriate recommendation.
The Pisces is a book not everyone will love, but wow, I did. Bold, weird, relatable, fantastical, hot, depressing, and maddening, all at once.
The reading theme of the month was clearly: white women in their forties dramatically rejecting their lives. I can totally dig that. In addition to The Pisces, I (finally) read the ~book of the summer~, Miranda July’s All Fours. I have thirty or so pages left, so I’ll refrain from commenting just yet, but I can already say this month’s “theme” has been really interesting to unintentionally dive into.
Watching:
Kneecap at Rio Cinema, a historic indie theatre in my new neighborhood. My first solo London movie was a success—I didn’t fall asleep in the plush seats despite the jet lag sitting in my belly if that tells you anything about the energy and pep of the film.
Two pieces of West End Theatre my first week: Kathy & Stella Solve a Murder, and Next to Normal. I was emotionally yanked around (the first being a murder podcast musical comedy, the second being a heartbreaking musical drama about schizophrenia, depression, and grief…), but came away from both, from the week, feeling just overwhelmingly grateful for the theatre.
I adore and respect
for a number of reasons. But her recent Personal Pot of Beans and Greens video cranked the love meter eeeeeeeven higher. A gorgeous, vibrant woman frying bread and stewing beans on the stove to eat solo on her couch, with simple contentment and zero guilt or shame, is perhaps all I ever want to be watching or hearing about. I’ll never understand or subscribe to the I can’t be bothered to really cook when it’s just for me rhetoric. Fuck that!
Listening:
Sitting in my plush velvet seat, watching all of the Londoners around me drink and sway with their partners and friends, and hearing Julia Jacklin sing to Perth, before the border closes live at the Lyric Theatre.
Laura curated the bulk of this cozy / crisp fall playlist, I added a few of my crunchy leaf season favorites, and can I say it’s an elite autumnal soundtrack? For the past several years the transition to fall has been emotional for me, and this playlist plugs into all of the sounds and (often discordant) themes I associate with that shift. I’ve cried on the bus to it, which is obviously what a fall playlist should be doing.
Buying:
White Mausu is seemingly the London brand of chili oils and crunches found on every Shoppy-Shop shelf (akin to our Fly By Jing, I’d say?). I purchased their Peanut Rayu, which is closer to a salsa macha, but with big chunks of peanut. Beyond delicious when added to eggs.
First jacket thrift at my local Beyond Retro, a shop I cannot wait to bring my shopping gals to when they visit.
Otherwise, mostly boring, cheap, poorly-made, bedroom stuff to get me going.
when i come visit i want a soup tour!!!!
writing carrot coriander soup down with fervor