Bartering as Resistance

and charred lemon & leek orzo with spring veg (can be gf, df, V)

Thank you for your plentiful and soft patience with my lack of consistency here over the last two months. Legislative session as a human married to a policy director is- hard. There’s not another word for it. The last four weeks are notoriously brutal- 12, 14, 18 hour days for Anaya. A wife and kids that miss him terribly. The fall out from said kids over missing said Yaya. The weight of everything outside his work falls to me and my work which naturally rocks me right back into bed some days. I appreciate you always and even more so these days. The end of this has some news you might be interested in <3

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I woke up thinking about being a poor kid and charred lemon and leek vinaigrette.

I finished Rust Belt Femme by

Raechel Anne Jolie

(highly recommend. the midwest! the nostalgia! the poverty sans porn! the code switching! The femme-ness of it all!) and I can’t stop thinking about how beautifully she articulated (so many things I’m thinking and have thought) what it meant and what it looked like being a poor kid and what community looked and felt like because of it. The necessity, the reality, the inconvenience of true community.

As I have become better resourced I see how it has impacted my ability to heal.

When I am better resourced I haver more capacity. When I have more capacity I am able to care for myself and therefore others more easily.

What does helping mean to you?

Let your mind wander around this today. Get curious about what it would look like to barter instead of immediately asking for/paying with money¹. What does sharing resources outside of funds look like? When’s the last time you helped someone even if you gained nothing from it or worse, when it inconvenienced you?

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I recently had a dream that I was watching myself. I am perched on top of the art piece framed in iron next to my altar. Indistinguishable— a true fly on the wall. Sometimes I’m the skip in a vinyl and it hurtles me to the rack where flowers and herbs go to dry. I look down and watch Anaya come up from behind me while I’m at the stove as he tucks his face into the damp that inevitably settles on my skin anytime I’m cooking. Sometimes he whispers things that are not for our children’s ears. Sometimes he says something that makes me throw my head back in laughter— like I am showing myself what we’ve become.

I imagine I appear to be praying and it’s because I did.

Because I am.

It’s because when I was 9 and putting myself to bed, secretly lighting a tiny candle— one of those 90’s jelly candles in the shape of a star, I fell asleep knowing that in some lifetime I was doing exactly these things. I knew there was a life where worrying about the lights getting cut off wasn’t real. Where stability, no matter how precarious it can be, smoothed the anxiety from my brow. I knew I was not meant to be scared of every single thing for the rest of my life.

Most times when he sneaks up on me and wraps his arms around my waist I immediately see that star candle.

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Charred lemon and leek vinaigrette is where I started. If you’ve been around awhile you’ve listened to me bang on about jammy tomato orzo and I wanted that but the spring version. I needed to hit the specialty food store anyways and I planned on grabbing asparagus but the only asparagus they had was looking extra woody and that was not what I wanted. I turned around and discovered the last pack of English peas and they happened to be on sale— a win/win. Asparagus would obviously be wonderful in this, as would snap peas or a combination of the two. As I left the store I thought about how three years ago I was trading biscuits for bitter greens. I wished I could do the same at this store but I’m not a fool. A girl can dream.

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I have lived one hundred lifetimes. The cucumber seedlings sitting on the shelf in front of the wall-to-almost-ceiling window reach for the sun. The smell of garlic on my hands. The fact that we now have six cans of chickpeas instead of the two I need because my memory doesn't always serve me well. The tiny kid socks and the liminal-space kid-bordering-tween band shirts I fold. For fuck sake, there are tears (and tears and tears), days I coax them into our bed for a Movie Day when I can’t or do not wish to get out of it. There are dinners of whatever served on paper plates and yet the chaos is gentle. Little recently chanted Keep Cry-ing! at me when him and I were feeling very overwhelmed and very small. Moonie kisses my eyelids like I kiss hers.

The sum of it all.

Our kids are safe and clean and fed and sheltered and watered and asked questions and curious and weird and emotional and hilarious. I am not sad nor resentful that my childhood isn’t a comparable snapshot of what I longed for, quite the opposite, really. I am beaming that these kids will have the ability to capture it in their hands. My nine year old self casted a spell that night.

I continue to pray.

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My first job(s) were cleaning and painting apartments with my mom when I was 9. I suppose it was actually the house we cleaned out in order to live in. We moved to Minnesota to be closer to my mother’s oldest sister and she knew a woman with a daughter a few years older than me— they could host us while my mother looked for a job so long as we agreed to “make space” inside the two story house that I can’t remember even having a yard. I only remember the house like a cut-out from a paper dolls scene and the initial smell. I hung back from starting school because for hours a day we cleared pathways and threw out garbage bag after garbage bag stuffed with trash and newspapers and empty gallon milk jugs and food wrappers. I wasn’t a stranger to hoarding- my maternal grandmother was a true hoarder but I was unaccustomed to this magnitude of filth. Dishes stacked onto themselves and eventually replaced with paper plates and dollar store plastics. Never washed, never thrown away, just stacked and stacked and stacked.

Eventually the house was livable, at least most of the common area as that was the agreement- we cleaned in exchange for rent. I got a paper route that I loathed because I was scared of everything all the time. Of not knowing where I was, of getting lost, of noises coming from things I couldn’t see, of men, especially men, of women, of kids I didn’t know, of a landscape that was unrecognizable to me. I was afraid of how far I could see. I cocktailed my father’s poker games before my boxy middle spread into curves like butter on toast. My mother taught me how to steal but made it clear we never stole from mom & pop or folks’ homes. I’ve been a waitress, a busboy, a dishwasher, a grocery store cashier and shelf-stocker. I’ve cleaned hotel and motel rooms, I’ve sold drugs, I’ve been a sex worker, I’ve sold fake fragrances out of the trunks of cars all over this country. I’ve pan-handled. I’ve been a babysitter, a lawn mower, a hustler, an assistant to creating fake five dollar bills. I’ve been a Walmart cashier and worked in the Walmart bakery— initially as a cake decorator until the Mexican aunties that took me under their wing and quite literally took pity on my god awful decorating skills, let me do the baking instead. I’ve been the receptionist at the salon inside Walmart (hey SmartStyle!) and eventually a hairstylist. When I was 21 I moved on to a bigger barbershop chain not inside of Walmart where I would become the shop manager to a million dollar business one week before my mother died. I was 24. My mother died two days before my 25th birthday and I didn’t miss one day of work which is not to be glorified but grieved. I became a mother and then I stepped down as manager. I cut my hours back to begin a meal prep and delivery service. I cut hair two or three times a week, I took care of Moonie the days I wasn’t, and then I would create menus and cook through the night before waking up to deliver meals across the suburbs of Denver with Moonie in tow, twice a week. I decided if I became skinny my world would change and it did, for worse. I kept on with my meal prep business while developing a relationship with a well known fitspo whom I eventually worked for. I got my Precision Nutrition certification and became a nutrition coach- my specialty being working with those wanting to lose weight, especially mothers. I started a cottage bakery in order to leave my ex-husband when Little was 4 months old and Moonie was 4. I would get paid to write. I would write copy for people I didn’t know and pitch publications I never read just to make a couple hundred bucks.

I would barter. I barter now. Quite a bit, in fact. It’s steeped into my blood- poor folks way of living and certainly not novel but still necessary in my mind. More necessary than ever, really.

Writing copy, baking and/or personal chef services, babysitting, yard work, errand boy, chauffeur, yard work, organizing and cleaning, hair cuts/color, pet sitting, nudes, creative consultant/healer/doula.

I used to trade baked goods for produce from my favorite local farmer, Jade, who is the owner/farmer of Minoru Farm. They got my vegan biscuits and I got the first pick of their spring greens.

Turns out all that refusal of staying in one lane or picking one single thing serves me well. I wonder what you’ll consider bartering.

Part of resistance is actually resisting. And I’m not scared anymore.

At least not all the time.

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We’re not charring lemons enough— at least I’m not and that’s about to change.

Charred Lemon & Leek Orzo with Spring Veg

scant 1/3 cup olive oil

the peel of two large lemons, minced

the zest of 1 large lemon (set aside)

one leek, white part only and cleaned very well (they’re v dirty), sliced vertically and cut into thin half moons

salt

pepper

red pepper flake, optional

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 cup of orzo

1/2 lb of English peas, shelled and rinsed (please god, just use frozen peas lol don’t go out of your way unless you feel v inclined and if you do just toss a couple small handfuls in at the end to heat through)

*as I mentioned, asparagus, snap peas, a combo, or whatever other spring veg (any veg?) your heart desires

1 can white beans or chickpeas, drained and rinsed

1 bunch of kale, stems removed and chopped

1 bunch of dill, chopped

the juice of 1-2 lemons depending on your personal taste

feta. Always feta.

Garlicky Breadcrumbs

a couple Tbsp butter

a couple handfuls of panko

1 clove of garlic

red pepper flake, optional

Melt the butter in a pan on medium low

Once it’s melted and you can smell the butter getting toasty, add the panko and a generous sprinkle of salt, pepper, and red pepper flake if using

Stir frequently- it takes a second for them to start getting color but once they start it goes fast so keep an eye on them

You are going for a caramel color, not burned, and as soon as they consistently have the same color, remove from the heat and the pan into a bowl or tupperware

Grate a clove of garlic over the breadcrumbs, stir well, making sure the garlic isn’t clumping in one spot

Taste for salt and add as needed

For the orzo

Add the olive oil to a pot, I prefer a dutch oven, set it on medium heat

Once the oil is shimmering, add the lemon peel and leek

Allow it to sizzle, stirring occasionally. The goal is to char so you want color but that’s not the same as burning. Knock it down to medium low for a minute if you think it’s coloring too quickly

Add a sprinkle of salt

Fill a smaller pot with water, add salt until it tastes like the sea, and set to boil for your orzo and English peas if using

Once the peel and leeks are deep in color, pull from the heat and add the minced garlic and red pepper flake if you’re using, let it sit for 5 minutes. Note- you add the garlic and RPF at the end once it’s off the heat otherwise you’ll burn both and that’s yuck and you’ll have to start over which is yuck and wasteful

Pour half the vinaigrette in a small bowl to reserve for later

Add the beans and the kale to the pot with the vinaigrette, the juice and zest from a lemon and a sprinkle of salt

Stir well, set it back on the burner that is off but still warm and put the lid on

Once the water is boiling add the orzo and mind the cooking instructions. When there is approx 3-4 minutes left for the orzo to be al dente, add the (English, if using) peas

Reserve a cup of the pasta/pea water (I chuckled because I am a 14 year old boy)

*Optional: I don’t typically recommend rinsing any pasta but if preserving the color of the peas is important to you, run the orzo and peas under cold water for thirty seconds

Add the peas and the orzo to the pot with the vinaigrette and stir well to combine

Add in the remaining vinagrette

Is it tacky? Add a couple splashes of pasta water to loosen it up

Add the dill

Taste your food. Does it need salt? More lemon?

Top with feta and garlicky breadcrumbs if using (they really do make it better)

Biggest love,

AR

Currently Reading: I have so many in the queue tbh. I’m taking a beat and keeping watercolors close by for now

Currently Listening To:

Currently Watching: The Last of Us is back (!!)

Currently Cooking: I made roasted strawberries & cream scones for a Butter Moon client. I need to scale back the sugar for the roasted strawberries next time as bits of it got a little dark for my (professional) liking. Thank goddess I’m not fulfilling the order until next week

Big News: After vacillating on what to do with Butter Moon next now that I’m no longer in full-time production, and after having a delightful walk & yap session with

Sally Ekus

and trusting my own intuition, I have decided to publish Butter Moon Bake Co’s signature recipes with seasonal spin-offs for paid subscribers beginning in June. There will be recipes, there will be storytelling. I am very excited to share this in a way that feels not only exciting but sustainable as well. Stay tuned.

1. I’m not a goose and realize you’re not bartering for groceries at King Soopers or gas at 7/11. Get creative.