I know it wouldn’t make the book of Life’s Helpful Hints, but the day after my mother left, I went back to work.
I took the train to 74th and Broadway and shopped. I put it all in a cab and tied on my apron.
I soaked cannellini and simmered them with fresh sage leaves, garlic, olive oil and a shower of salt. I chopped onions and carrots and celery for soffritto, moved them around over a gentle flame for 40 minutes and added tomatoes. The beans were smashed, chard was sliced, ciabatta was toasted in the oven and then everything went in the pot for a
Tuscan Ribollita.
I seared a pork loin with the ribs still attached and stuffed it with gremolata before I roasted it.
I braised carrots w/a spill of vinegar, a shallot, a pinch of sugar and salt, bay leaves and peppercorns, and then tossed them with currants and toasted pignoli.
I caramelized onions until they collapsed.
I squeezed lemons into eggs and sugar, thickened them on the stove and poured them over a shortbread crust.

And I was so thankful for a place to put myself.