It has been multiple times now — four or five if I’m not mistaken — that I have attempted a return to this space. Each one of them invariably has started, with a sort of an apology. A justification. A feeling that I’m now begging to understand as “shame”.
The shame of not having been here when the whole rest of the world apparently has. The shame of the (seeming) lack of productivity. The shame, and the blood curling fear, of not having much to say.
This is where I have been in the past months; a place of very few words that I want to put in the world. A place where, what I really want to do is avoid the billions of words gnashing at the world in every waking and dreaming instant. There’s just TOO MUCH OF EVERYTHING, don’t you agree? Too many images on Instagram (and tiktok, if you live there as well); ever revolving, chaotic, soundtracked, accompanied by more words, colorful, and nauseating at times.
And too many words here too, on Substack, the “ writer’s dream place”, often better written, by too many people, talking about too many important things. Too many recipes, too many thoughts, too many offers. So many I often wonder how to keep up.
And in the streets of Rome, there are too many people even in what was once blissfully low season February. Too many shops and bars and restaurants cater to this crowd. Statistics cry bigger and bigger numbers, and yet it’s ever more difficult to find a place at these restaurants.
A state of eternal tiredness lingers in the Eternal city. No time for it to breathe for the big high season, looming ever closer, bringing many, many more people with it.
I’m at that stage that whenever I’m exposed to the internet, which is sadly almost always whenever I have my phone in my hand, which is the majority of my waking hours, all that occurs to me is “should I add to this huge, indistinguishable jumble of stuff”? My logic says “no” terrifyingly fast. My greed for self satisfaction says “well, you’ll be forgotten otherwise”, and my longing for self expression wonders “how will you put out your art otherwise”?
I’d like to think “books” can be a safe haven, quiet and analogic and away from all this noise, despite being full of words. And yet I’m the one who can’t sit still with a book for more than 10 minutes these days. The lure of too many images and words and people and bars and dishes tops that quiet all the time. I feel trapped.
No. No, I don’t think trapped is how I feel. Tired. I am tired. Of many things and of nothing in particular really, but I constantly feel exhausted. Images, words, sounds, people, things, things, things. All too much.
Funnily enough I think it might be that,— at least partly— my exhaustion comes from creating one of those “safe havens”. Writing, but mostly promoting a book so far has been extenuating. A hard work that is barely seen, involving a billion little micro-managements. They call it “burnout” these days.
In the words of
, burnout is “the body talking to the mind and spirit and agreeing in complete unity that they could no longer go on. Which is to say burnout feels a lot like complete and utter exhaustion. Exhaustion that makes you depressed, sometimes rageful; it can make you binge or it can make you starve; it can look like sleeping all the time or being incapable of getting a single hours sleep. Burnout is vague because it’s different for everyone.”In all these multiple times that I have tried to write my return back to space and eventually gave up, there's been an account of this burnout. Then, the sticky shame of nagging. Eventually I always gave up, deciding perhaps it’s not time yet. This time I’ve decided to go through with it.
I can’t promise you consistency at this stage. I can’t deliver anything weekly, or even monthly, but I will appear now and then to say and share something interesting. (I turned off the paid version many months ago, but I might turn on the pledge if any of you feels like supporting me).
Cooking mojo, is that you?
One of the things a cookbook burnout made me go through was an utter unwillingness to cook — and sometimes even to eat —anything at all. In the past couple of months however something of my cooking curiosity and passion has come back to me. Nothing elaborate, Iranian or Italian like the recipes in Pomegranates & Artichokes (I do them for events). But, light and bright things, modern, mostly meatless and quite a few in the form of salads. (It has been such a ridiculously warm winter that I never felt bothered by cold salads for a meal).
I think some of these meals are worth keeping for the future, so let’s make an archive of them here. In an old fashion blog sort of way. I hope you’ll like them. But don’t expect precise recipes, these are just ideas. To be perfectly frank, as unconventional this may sound coming from a person who writes recipes for a living, I really believe lots of food ideas should be non-recipes; no measurements, just ideas. Trust your instincts and make this idea yours.
Gather your oranges while ye may
It's the citrus season, possibly the best moment of the year, to match the stone-fruit season (but that’s hellishly hot, so I stick to this one).
My favorite recipe to make is orange season is Claudia Roden’s orange and almond cake. It’s quite well-known and it appears everywhere from New York Times Cooking (behind a paywall) to the Guardian, and of course her legendary cookbook, the Book of Middle Eastern of Food. You boil two oranges whole for a long time (making the house smell like heaven), then you blend them whole, add 6 eggs, 250g almond flour, 200g sugar, bit salt, bit baking powder and bake it for about an hour. Heaven.
A citrus salad may be a bit banal to some, never to me. You may know about the famous Sicilian version, with oranges, fennels and black olives. I have recently come to pair oranges with just a tad of celery. I’d like to use a combination of regular oranges, blood oranges and grapefruit for an aesthetic effect. Then add some chopped pistachios on top. Salt and good olive oil.
This one is already a bit out of season but it has been a revelation to me. You need the hard type of persimmon aka Japanese Persimmon. In Italy they’re called cachi mela or apple persimmon, which is cute. Cut them into thin slices and place on a dish, top with slivers of a strong-ish cheese, like gouda. Make a sauce with vinegar (white wine or rice vinegar), lots of chili flakes and salt and pour over it. Add chopped salted peanuts. Sounds unlikely but it’s astonishingly good.
A bit of book news
This week I’m back traveling for book promo events.
On Tuesday 13 February, I’m very proud to present Pomegranates & Artichokes at The University of Gastronomic Sciences of Pollenzo (UNISG), the acclaimed university is part of the Slow Food movement and is a food person’s dream (they call it the Hogwarts for food). Follow along on Instagram stories if you want to see more.
On Wednesday 14 February I’m presenting the Italian edition of my book Melograni & Carciofi in Turin (at Via Galliari 15bis Torino 10125) at 5.30 pm with
Montera and Lucilla Iannone di Frollemente. Come join us!On 28 February I will hold a lecture at Loyola University Chicago's John Felice Rome Center about Mediterranean food cultures.
On 11 March I will return to Auburn University (Alabama, USA) Rome Campus for the third time to hold a lecture on the Middle Eastern and Mediterranean diet.
Please let me know if you’re anywhere near these places.
What is your favorite way with citrus?
Lastly on burnout again, this is a great piece by Emma Gannon. Have you had to deal with burnout lately? Any advice?
I feel you! Too many words and images and even thoughts bouncing around, even if worthy. Too connected, everything too significant to look away from, meaningless things too easy to get lost in. For what it's worth, I found your expression of this a breath of fresh air.
Ah yes. So relatable on so many levels (having hung up my shingle here in Substack months ago, I’ve never actually published anything, so I triply applaud your push through to press go after a pause.)
There is really so much noise and hustle-bustle everywhere sometimes it just feels right to be quiet.
Agree on more recipes which are just “ways.”
Yesterday we had a salad of shaved fennel, radicchio, oranges, and toasted almonds that made me happier than so many things I’ve fussed over.