Christina's blog

Here we are, in the run up to Thanksgiving and whether you’re alone, cooking for your immediate household or cooking for an intrepid crowd that decided to brave the airways and highways to get to your table, you’re thinking about this year’s feast of gratitude.

It might be the first time you have taken on the task of cooking this very special meal. It may be that in the past, you have dined with a group, each of whom brought a dish. And maybe that’s the only dish you know how to make. You realize that you do have to serve more than mashed potatoes, as lovely as they are.

I don’t know about you, but I was seriously hoping that Covid-19 would be on the downswing by the time the holiday season rolled in. But with cases still surging, it sure doesn’t look that way.

It’s the time of year when we traditionally gather with friends and loved ones to celebrate all the blessings of our lives. And while many of us have a lot to be grateful for, there are many among us grappling with exhaustion, trauma, loss of life, loss of livelihood and loss of life as we knew it.

There will be no traditional anything this year.

I have written about this topic before and I will write about it again, I am sure. I shouldn’t write when I am angry and exhausted from social media’s seemingly inherent meanness, but here I am. I write sometimes to vent. Bear with me or bail while you can.

Someone wrote to me on Facebook asking about acrylamides. I confess that my first response was acryl-a-who? There seems to be more and more “stuff” out there for us to worry about when it comes to our food. And while some of it is legit, some of it isn’t worth our stress.

For me, acrylamides falls into the latter category. But here is what I discovered. Now it’s up to you to decide of it’s worth your worry.

I was listening to some people at my gym talking and they referred to 2020 in the most perfect way: “a total and complete s*&t show.”

Sad to say, but they’re right about this year which continues to be filled with surprises, not many of them good. Just when you think things can’t go further off the rails, well, you’re wrong again. And it’s not over yet.

As summer fades into our memory, we mourn its passing, especially this year. We moved through the days with mask-fogged sunglasses and awkward, socially distant gatherings, where we waved at our loved ones across the yard, park or terrace, seated at opposite ends of the bench as we tried to stay connected to each other.

Most of us have been stuck in place since before the spring thaw. We have watched summer from our windows, porches and balconies, growing used to drive-by celebrations. We have suffered tragedies, losses so deep and personal that the grief is without measure.

I was reading the New York Times this morning, as I do every morning before I begin my work. It’s my go-to source for news and has been for most of my adult life.

I read two articles this morning about climate change and they left me feeling bereft for the future we might leave to our children and generations after them.

The days became weeks; became months and here we are. The days roll into each other. We savor small changes, small freedoms as we continue to navigate this pandemic. We see each little advance as a triumph as we try to keep our loved ones and ourselves safe.

My grandfather, my mother’s father was the greatest man who ever lived. Period. Coming from Castellemare di Stabia outside of Naples, he knew poverty. He knew want. He knew hardship. He also knew ambition and desire.

I know that times are hard for so many of us. We struggle with everything from cooking three meals a day, seven days a week to juggling home school or some hybrid of education for our kids. We are working from home, not working or working tirelessly in essential roles to keep society and life moving in some way or another.

So we are stressed and very close to the boiling point at any given moment of any day.