Truth time-
My meds, my ADHD meds more specifically, got fucked a couple weeks ago due to the lack of my executive function as well as our shit healthcare system. At any rate, my focus is rather unfocused and with the wedding next week, expecting guests, playing out the day-of plans including picking up our kids, handing off our youngest in an effort to keep some rhythm to his day (the child loves routine and rhythm), feeding folx at my insistence because I love them, the incoming storm approaching this afternoon, whose school will be cancelled? What about the Lorax performance? I’m supposed to have a pap and my meds refilled on Friday during said pap appointment but what if it gets cancelled as it’s at the tail end of our biggest storm in three years…
…
To be fair, this is mostly my brain anyways but we’re in a state of extra shambles. Therefore, where this week’s newsletter will lack cohesiveness it will make up in entertainment, I’m sure. Here are some things that have been on my mind-
“Your child will be playing a Barbaloot and therefore should be wearing brown. Please don’t go out and buy new clothes and simply find something to use that they already have.”
I don’t know about y’all, but my seven year old kid doesn’t have a ton of brown clothing. In fact, she has a pair of rust colored leggings with tiny white hearts on them. That is the extent of “brown” we’re working with. Anaya, being himself, insisted we at least check out Target to see what they have. Shocking to nobody, at least not to me, there isn’t a ton of brown clothing options in March. Needless to say, she’s wearing the aforementioned leggings and a brown-adjacent sweater of Anaya’s that I cuffed at the wrist. Godspeed, Barbaloot.
Naan bread. I don’t want to shame. I don’t particularly enjoy being made fun of. My ears get hot when I am embarrassed. That said, and while naan is not synonymous with bread in the US- I couldn’t walk in to a restaurant and order “bread” while expecting naan to appear, it is rather redundant. Not rather, it just is. Don’t say naan bread. It’s just naan.
White-washing recipes is nothing new although it still manages to get on my nerves while I watch well known, rich, white women continue to capitalize by not only stealing recipes from folx of color, but by just absolutely annihilating the origins with no mention of any origins or culture to be had. The recipe I included is Moroccan-ish. I don’t have a tagine, and while 99% of the meals I make at home are not “American” and certainly not of white “culture” (mayonnaise?), I stay in my lane and I give a nod. Give credit where credit is due. Did you make your birria with goat? It’s birria-ish or it’s birria de res which is fine and is also what I make. Street tacos are not indicative of every single taco found in Mexican hole-in-the-walls, taco trucks, and various types of stands. What kind of “street tacos” are they? Stop this.
Moonie doesn’t love saffron apparently, so if anyone needs a seven year old, I’m your boi. Just jokes, I love that kid so big and so wide. She has always eaten everything, and with gusto, with the exception of mushrooms and now apparently saffron? I digress.
I have written and rewritten my wedding vows a lot of times. 18 to be exact, more on this later, and I have finally reached a place where I am saying everything I want to say in the way I want to say it. I am an over thinker and what with the ADHD, the fact that I’m a writer, combined with the fact that I wish to invoke a precise feeling within five minutes is a lot. Writing about my love for Anaya is one of the easiest things to write and has been the launching pad for endless love poems, notes and stories for the first time in my life. But I don’t want to bullet point a list of promises, you know? It’s not my vibe. Part poetry, part testimony. I hope they make my policy wonk of a future husband beam with pride.
Nothing like the biggest storm we’ve seen in three years to land a week before our wedding day with two feral children home. I am that parent that finds unrequited magic within snow days and I would also be lying if I felt a bit CAN WE NOT while simultaneously feeling a swell of gratitude that it isn’t happening next week, a gamble we knew we were taking with March being Denver’s snowiest month of the year. The to-do list is listing and even so, I will absolutely carve out time to take these knuckleheads sledding because it’s fun as hell and these kids are worth whatever magic can be found all of the time.
I have approximately 3 cups of corn custard leftover from some summer R&D I was doing earlier this week. I cannot and will not throw it away so I am going to experiment with some custard filled bao as well as… I don’t know? I make Japanese milk bread as our weekly bread and I considered putting a layer of custard before rolling each section. It’s giving messy but I’m not mad about it. Stay tuned.
This custom wedding dress bit has been nightmare-ish, not gonna lie. I can’t give too much away now as I don’t want to ruin the surprise of the dress itself but it’s been a journey. Having a custom gown made was certainly not my choice, but Anaya’s, and took a bit of convincing. I figured I would find something anywhere since we’re wearing black and simply have it altered need be. Anaya talked me into having it quite literally made for me so that alterations wouldn’t be necessary and there was a good chance that post-alterations the price would be the same. Most dresses either fit my waist or my ass and thighs and hips, there really isn’t an in-between. My décolletage and waist are much smaller than other parts of my body so I figured at the very least it was a smart decision. It is smart but only if the person making your dress is willing to put in the work required. TLDR at one point (two weeks ago) she had managed to cut my dress six inches too short and could not for the life of her figure out how to make the bodice fit me well enough that I wasn’t able to literally shimmy out of it, the bodice sliding down past my hips damn near. She ended up calling in an expert backup who-
Obviously should just be in her own business and not helping this woman. Literally saved the day and my dress. TLDR x 2, for a fat person, especially a fat femme, that sees these things about themselves as simply fact and without judgment, I would be lying if I said it didn’t do an unhelpful thing to not only my brain in regards to being fat (is it me? am I the problem?) but also to my gender expression. My dress is high-femme and that’s what I want for the day. Being that it is high-femme and being that I am fat, I want the thing to not just fit, but fit me like a goddamn glove, you know? A glove.
Little Cesar’s will be deliver halfway through the reception and the Colorado Little Cesar’s Instagram account recently followed me. This is my 15 minutes of fame, and yes, I will sign your pizza box if you like.
God, there is so much of that fucking corn custard left.
My latest hyper-fixation is preserved lemons, hence that pistachio and lemon oil olive cake from last week and now this Moroccan-inspired chicken dish.
This dish is salty and I love salt but it can get too salty real quick so here are some things to note-
Season your chicken with salt, sure. But with a light hand and I do mean light. Between the salt from the preserved lemons and the olives, shit can get real weird, real fast. Generally I would salt my couscous, but not this time.
Morrocan-ish Chicken + Saffron Couscous
For the chicken rub-
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp paprika
Fresh cracked pepper
Combine the spices in a small bowl, adding a good ammount of fresh cracked pepper, set aside.
1 lb boneless, skinless chicken thighs, patted dry
2 Tbsp olive oil
Sprinkling of salt
Put the chicken on a plate or a baking dish, something that is big enough so that the chicken can all lay flat. Drizzle 2 Tbsp of olive oil, coating each side, and then sprinkle lightly with salt. Next, add the dry rub, coating each side well and making sure all of the spices are patted into the chicken. Set aside, bonus points if you can let it hang out in the fridge for a couple hours prior to cooking.
2 shallots, peeled and quartered
6 gloves of garlic, minced
1 Tbsp olive oil
12 green olives (I will, mostly always, reach for Castelvetrano olives), pitted and cut in half lengthwise
1 preserved lemon, cut in half and the very thinly sliced
Zest from 2 lemons
Juice from 1 lemon
A bit of chicken stock, no more than a cup
Use a cast iron pan if you can or a heavy bottom pot such as a Dutch oven. Set the pan to medium high heat and add the 1 Tbsp of olive oil. Once it’s super hot, add the shallot, toss it around in the oil, and then don’t move them anymore but allow them to caramlize and even char a bit. Add the chicken thighs, making sure they aren’t overlapping, and sear for 4 minutes on each side. My stove top gets hot so I find myself turning down the heat just a tad for the second side. Once the chicken has a nice color and crust to it, turn the heat down to medium low and add just enough chicken stock to deglaze and cover the bottom of the pan. Add the garlic, olives, and preserved lemons, then cover with a lid and allow the chicken to simmer for 25 minutes.
While the chicken is simmering, grab whatever brand of couscous you’re using, I used pearl couscous as it is my favorite, but you do you. I steeped about 1/4 tsp of saffron threads in 1/2 cup of boiling water for ten minutes and then used said water plus whatever necessary amount was to honor the cooking instructions. I also like to add a couple pats of butter to the pot just before covering it to cook. Once the couscous is finished cooking, remove from the heat and add a handful of fresh, chopped parsley and half of the lemon zest, stirring well to combine.
Once the chicken has been simmering for 25 minutes, remove the lid and keep the chicken simmering, allowing the sauce to thicken.
After five minutes, remove from the heat entirely and let it set for another 5-10 minutes. The sauce will turn thick and have a beautiful color to it.
Add the rest of the lemon zest and drizzle the chicken with the lemon juice. Toss in a handful of parsley for good measure, if you’re into that. Serve with couscous.
Married?! Next Week?! After swearing I would never even consider again?
It’s the greatest promise I ever broke.
Biggest love,
AT
Currently Reading: my wedding vows on repeat until the end of time
Currently Listening To: Smoke by Five Islands
Currently Cooking: they did in fact call a snow day for both children so we had “spaghetti” re: pasta with doctored jarred sauce and pesto sausages. I will never hate on jar sauce, it has it’s place, and I bust it out a couple times a month when I forget there is no longer marinara stashed in the freezer.