Roasted chicken and a reflection

Saturday was the first day of spring break, and I woke up to 40-degree weather and a forecast for snow. On Monday of the same week, it was in the 60s. The first day of the year that you can get away with just wearing a sweatshirt or jacket is always joyous. Needless to say, I was not the happiest about Saturday’s weather, but it was the perfect opportunity to “roast a bird” (or its parts) as my dad would say.

But let’s rewind to earlier in the day.

Rarely do I leave my apartment before 10am — it’s one of the luxuries of being a second semester senior with late classes — but I was up and on my way to Trader Joe’s by 9:45. I didn’t have time to shop for groceries on Friday because I was preoccupied with thrifting for glassware (great success, btw) and homework. I didn’t want to get snowed in without any food all day, so I had no choice but to book it to TJ’s.

After an afternoon of homework, project research, and talking to my parents about their upcoming visit, I headed out on a walk while the storm subsided. I went to the farmer’s market to pick up a jar of honey from Andrew’s Honey and some goods from Bread Alone Bakery. I also stopped by a thrift store and DSW since I’m in the market for a spring jacket and a pair of new sneakers.

At around 6pm I started making dinner: Sheet Pan Chicken with Tomatoes and Chickpeas from Carla Lalli Music’s book That Sounds So Good. One of my goals for March is to make at least one recipe a week from one of my cookbooks (a piece on my favorite cookbooks is forthcoming, as promised). Cooking chicken scares me. A lot. But my little oven did a good job, and dinner was delicious.

When I shared a picture of my dinner with Matt, he asked if it was a holiday. I said it wasn’t. “Looks like it tastes good enough to be a holiday 🥳,” he replied. “Ya know what, it IS a holiday,” I said next. “Two years since lockdown. Well I guess anniversary is a better word.”

This is not to say that the pandemic is over, but I think it’s important to reflect on all that we’ve endured and lost during these past two years — or at least offer a small moment of silence to it. Are we going to remember March 12 every year for the rest of our lives?

I remember March 12 and 13, 2020 well, as I’m sure all of you do too. On the 12th, my friend Lucy and I walked around our neighborhood, soaking up the first day of jacket season. We got ice cream from Van Leeuwen’s and talked about our plans to head home for spring break. The morning of the 13th was hectic. I was headed into work that afternoon, and my roommates at the time scrambled to find flights home from their spring break trip. Their voices scared me. Then my parents called and said they wanted me to come home that night instead Monday. I went into work that day fearing what my boss would say when I told her I’d have to head home for the weekend. “My parents don’t want me to get stuck in the city,” I said. “It’s okay, we’re closing after lunch service today,” she told me. My heart dropped.

And here we are two years later. I faced a fear on the anniversary of lockdown (which is a small fear in the grand scheme of things) and reflected on what we’ve lost and gained during the past two years. How does this relate to cooking, you ask? It doesn’t really, but I think it’s good to reflect and remember the big moments in our lives. The pandemic is a time marker for us, and there now exists a before and an after, yet we’re still in it somehow.

I thought about all the ways I’ve grown over the past two year while digging into dinner — next year I hope others will be at the table (or on the couch) with me too. I’ve learned to navigate relationships, strengthened my bond with my sister and our best friend, and have come to appreciate the lessons my parents taught (and continue to teach). Lucy and I have shared more ice cream, I’ve met up with those old roommates for coffee, and Le Bernardin rehired me when I returned to New York.

The ability to reflect on the way my life has changed during this time is a great privilege. The world is still a dark place and the virus lingers whether or not you have to show your vaccine card to a host in order to dine inside a restaurant. I’m not sure where to go from here, but I do know that food is one of the ways we can offer hope to those in need.

!!!