Back in olden days, I had a blog called How to Eat. I started it on September 7, 2009. Here’s the first post. Feel free to read the others (there aren’t that many), but what I remember is the tight community of bloggers that I helped to nurture but was far more nurtured by — a community of writers, artists, mothers, parents of children with disabilities, cannabis medicine advocates (we were, quite literally pioneers), and disability advocates, many with whom I am still friendly or even in love with today. You can poke around on that blog and the other one I wrote in the olden times (thousands of posts there), a moon worn as if it had been a shell. I felt inspired to perhaps write a few How to Eats here on this new iteration and perhaps combine it with the usual posts about trachs and suctioning and caregiving and suffering through this weird and chaotic time on the planet and in my home.
So.
I ordered a jar of preserved lemon paste from New York, and it came today in the mail, so I poked around the world wide webs and got some ideas for how to use it, but since there were no specific recipes with stuff that I already had, I just cooked up something of my own. I’ve been into lemons lately and have a bounty of them on the three small trees in my backyard. They’re Meyers, thin-skinned and nearly sweet. They make my mouth water just thinking of them. I keep meaning to bake with them, but instead just basically smell them and think about baking with them. I’m compelled to add that writing about food will hopefully help to alleviate the low-grade depression I nearly always feel, depression and faint strains of worry even as I plant myself firmly in the present (forever suctioning the mucous from my daughter’s body) as the future — far from being dim or foggy or uncertain — well — it’s no place to be when you’ve spent nearly ten weeks of the year in a hospital, watched your daughter nearly die twice and are then sent home from the latest bout of pneumonia with a mysterious broken ankle that, to date, has not been accounted for in the Great Art-Strewn Halls of Accountability in the Great Monolith Celebrity Hospital System. In other words, no hospitalist (a word seemingly created to label a human whose job is to — what? ) has reached out, no Great Chief Medical Officer or Chief Operations Officer (both of whom were personally contacted) has reached out, and I felt no small measure of glee (in that pathetic way we feel when up against The System, when you know perfectly well that it’s no use) while filling out the survey that came in the mail, filling in the circles (darkly, pointedly) at the lower end of the spectrum. Do you totally agree, somewhat agree, neither agree nor disagree (yay for neutrality, those who live somewhere in that hell), somewhat disagree, totally disagree or utterly and completely throw your whole body into disagreement? My answers were corporeal, they were smoking hot, naked, denuded of pretense, languorous (I laughed, I did, Reader, at the absurdity), and I imagine as only the tiny little mother mind™ (thin-skinned and nearly sweet) can that they will fly, fly out of the envelope under the pressure when scanned by the Survey Processing Department, Press Ganey and ignite the whole shebang.
But back to preserved lemon paste.
Here’s the recipe:
Bring a pot of salted water with a heavy amount of salt to a boil. Slice three small zucchini that might be withering in your refrigerator in half, lengthwise and then crosswise to whatever thickness you desire and add them to some heated up olive oil in a large pan that will fit the pasta at the end. Think ahead! When the water comes to a rolling boil, put your pasta of choice in and stir. I used gemelli — some fancy, organic brand that is quite delicious, but this isn’t a sponsored post and I have no intention to make it so or even to collect money from those of you who were coaxed to pledge some (thank you, but I don’t want to make money on this Substack and would rather pretend that I, in my impossibly privileged, white world, can shun capitalism and the constant drumbeat of commerce). Sigh. While your pasta is cooking, saute the zucchini in olive oil with a bit of chopped garlic (I use those frozen garlic cubes because I absolutely hate peeling and mincing fresh garlic), salt and pepper. Before draining your pasta, take out about a cup or so of the pasta water, drain the pasta and add to the zucchini along with the water and 2 tablespoons or more of the preserved lemon paste. Then grate some fresh parmesan over the top. Oh dear god, it was good.
I got my preserved lemon paste here.
The asides sing.
You would find me with bowls of Meyer lemons sitting in every room in my house if I had lemon trees instead of snow on the ground in March.
I love New York Shuk's spices! The Sprouts grocery store we go to carries them all. I especially love covering chickpeas in their harissa and shawarma with olive oil and baking until they're almost crispy! I will look for the lemon paste.
I hope Sophie has been enjoying the spring days at home.