Hello, and welcome to the first official edition of Bittersweet. I’m touched and humbled that you all chose to put yourselves on this list, inviting me and my thoughts into your precious and likely already cluttered inboxes. It’s an honor to be here, and I sincerely hope that you won’t regret it.
Seeing as it’s been a while since I’ve written anything of substance (random poems and grocery lists don’t count here), I thought we could start off slow and simple. A little warm up exercise, if you will. As I watch New York City settle into the first days of spring, it feels only fitting.
To be honest, slow is not really my strong suit. I find myself eager to jump at the slightest hint of change around the corner, unable to pause and let it arrive naturally. As weather starts to warm, this becomes increasingly difficult. I know the asparagus is coming - and I want it now.
It’s around this time of year (yes, every year) that I find myself day dreaming about apricots and nectarines, and the smell of a hot grill mixing with salty ocean air. My mind starts to conjure scents and images of plump raspberries, or basil growing in a warm windowsill. Thanks to my hyper-active imagination, these visions quickly start to edge on elaborate fantasies of late summertime cooking, which I am determined to fulfill as soon as possible. The only obvious problem is that the ground and air remain too cold to produce the bounty I’m craving. And of course, the only thing capable of changing that is time.
As a naturally impatient person, this anticipation of spring and summer produce turns out to be really good practice. It’s a gentle reminder that good things can in fact be worth waiting for, like a strawberry rhubarb pie, or peak-season tomatoes with nothing but a touch of olive oil and salt. I find myself forced to take deep breaths and enjoy the present moment, where mushrooms and arugula are still plentiful. I savor the final days of citrus season and rainbow carrots, all while delighting in the first bouquets of snap pea tendrils that are creeping into farmers’ market stalls. And with each passing day, I get a little bit more comfortable with the idea of waiting.
In re-launching this newsletter, I hope to take a similar approach. Rather than diving in head first with a list of topics to discuss and complaints to lodge, I am taking things moment by moment. I am relishing in long nights spent eating and drinking with friends instead of forcing myself to sit down and assess the latest Twitter controversies. I am allowing myself time and space to scribble notes with a pen on paper before turning to the internet, letting thoughts form and develop gradually.
I have plenty of things to say, and we’ll get to all that at some point — I promise. For now, the plan is just to take things slow and steady, practicing patience and admiring the first signs of spring. I am reminding myself (and now, all of you) that good things come around eventually, if you give them time to grow.
- Jaime