i thank your ghost for the recipe
My therapist informed me that I graduated today. I enjoyed a brief moment of relief when I assumed this meant that I had been cured. My beaming and innocent grin only lasted a few seconds before she continued to say that we could now move to meeting on a monthly basis... Despite this milestone in my journey, my smile quickly faded. Did this mean we had more unpacking to do?
It was then that she reminded me of my goal to answer the following questions: what does it mean to forgive? how might one achieve acceptance?
With her help, and all those brilliant friends around me who have entertained this for months and months on end, I may have found the great cure for those who ruminate! One short-term method that I have uniquely and solely developed is: don't think so much. The alternative method which is still undergoing clinical trials but suggests promising results (copyright pending), comes from the intrinsic work of enjoying the gifts that arise through moments of hardship.
Eighteen months ago I wrote the following in reference to the 2024 film, Conclave, where the latter has become quite fitting:
Not only do I indulge in religious symbolism, but I also enjoy the camp of the Catholics, with their scheming and politics — they too have a strong love for a red and white palette (see; notes on cranberry jelly for more).
At one point in the film, Bellini approaches Lawrence to ask for his forgiveness.
When was the last time you asked for forgiveness?
Now, it seems that in real life, we may not have those who have hurt us asking for forgiveness. Maybe we will find it within ourselves, or find peace in that we are better off not speaking at all. In rare cases, we may find, on an especially hungry night, that the gifts they have left do much more than an apology ever could. Sometimes, we may be lucky enough to receive the eternal blessing of a good recipe!
Years ago, I had a horrible boyfriend who happened to make delicious pasta. This wasn’t any ordinary pasta — somehow by the time he was twenty he had mastered the art of ingredient selection, ratios, and pairings. This recipe was light, it tasted like spring. One day during that summer, I spent time cooking with his wonderful mother. She showed me the secret to this masterful work, one which I won’t disclose here. It was this secret of course which outlasted that relationship. All these years later, I make it just the same. It doesn't taste the way it did back then. What changed?
Being a realist means that I will rarely stretch my mind to see that of the optimist. If I were to do such a thing, I suspect I may write something next like “see the beauty in any moment, the light in the darkness, the rainbow in the storm...” blah blah blah. Though, I am beginning to think they may be on to something after all...
Upon having graduated today, I considered (and have not been obsessing, obviously) the gifts I have been given by those tumultuous affairs: the countless soup recipes from men with varying opinions on the political state of MSG or the art of knowing how thick the cinnamon bun dough should be rolled. I think of being fed my first frittata — a meal that triggered the long road to recovering my relationship with eating. Who would have thought that eggs could do all that? I wonder, have you also enjoyed orange pekoe with the windows open in the evening? and have you let the cool wind blow it cold? Let the milk and honey lull you to sleep? Indulge with me, please. This too is a recipe. Have you been thankful for the gifts that a ghostly love can bring?
Fear not! Despite having found the antidote to all that is wrong, I remain human. I too, have a heart and mind and ghosts that come to life. And, as my therapist notes, much much more to work through.
It turns out that after a decade of battling food, I can stomach this appetite for forgiveness.
Tonight, I am serving acceptance and, I am toasting to the feeling that maybe just maybe, I am who I am because of it all!
I am celebrating the accomplishment of having graduated by doing what any sane and well-adjusted person may do — by stealing the recipes of those who have wronged me!
The menu: spaghettini with a modified marinara sauce, fried Italian vegetarian sausage, fresh broccolini shoots, and sprinkled with parmesan.
As it turns out, forgiving is a lot easier with a belly full of pasta.