Here All Along

Who knew. *Chapter 36*

Farm Visit, by Bonnie Lynn Felton, lynnfelton.com

It’s Saturday. I’m sitting at Little Bear, the restaurant where Alan, Betsy and I will host our second pop-up dinner in two days. DeeJay’s is named for my grandmother, Dorothy Jean, a 26-year Legislator for the Georgia House of Representatives and lifetime lover of the state.

At the farmer’s market this morning, Susan of Hickory Hill Farms, told me she’d run into my brother while dropping off produce for the restaurant where he is now Chef de Cuisine, Miller Union. How has this happened? My life revolving around family and restaurants and community. I meditated about this a lot during lockdown, fantasized about what it would be like when I had friends in Atlanta and a fully booked schedule. Absolutely wild to be sitting next to the daisies my boyfriend bought me this morning. I’ve brought them inside so they don’t wilt in the car while he preps the pork for Monday.

Today I will begin making 4 of the 8 batches of chocolate pudding we will serve for dessert. Eight pounds of strawberries, half of those topping for the pudding, we will have to figure out how to squeeze into our fridge. It’s warm and breezy outside. The daisies smell a little of…ass? Little Bear is exactly the size and vibe I’d want should we ever open a restaurant of our own. Sitting here now, I’m fully immersed in a daydream.

My work week runs Wednesday-Sunday so I always find myself alarmed at the amount of people out on a Saturday. I’d love to pop across the street for a coffee and croissant but the line spilling out onto the sidewalk is offensive. Have I mentioned this is wild? That I feel like I’ve woken up into a dream version of my life I couldn’t have imagined until I just kind of found myself living it.

Yesterday I made an apron. Well. It was an apron to begin with but a cut that didn’t fit me right and so I used the beautiful fabric to make something new. I’d wanted one of blush colored linen, googled it and looked on Etsy but couldn’t find one that was just right. And then, there it was, hanging in my kitchen, the exact fabric I was seeking. I disassembled the stitches and pieced it back together. Definitely poked myself with a few pins and drew a little blood. The final product is messy and imperfect but it’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.

I’ve found that when I want something, really, desperately want it, it’s never there. Frustration and pain, tantrums like I imagine I had at 4 years old follow. How will I get it? Why can’t I have it now?? It’s never until I’ve forgotten about it, moved onto something else, that I realize, oh my god, it’s here.

I’m home now sitting on the couch, subtle whiffs from these ass-scented daisies keep wafting over. I’m drinking a pamplemousse La Croix and just finished inhaling a ham sandwich I made on the heart-shaped biscuits I baked yesterday. Lately, I’ve been allowing myself to relish what my life has become. To deeply appreciate everything I have and all I’m excited for. Who knew all I had to do was follow a longing for home to find that what I’ve always wanted has been here all along? A disassembled life put back together as something just right.

READING

Provence, 1970 by Luke Barr. If you’ve ever read my essays, you’ll know nostalgia is my favorite reflection. This book is about a time when MFK Fisher, Julia Child, James Beard and several others pivotal to the shift in the American food scene around the 70s, all found themselves in Provence at the same time. So far, it’s an incredibly cozy and (as much as I hate describing things that aren’t food this way)… delicious¹ read.

WATCHING

Y’all, the Season 2 finale of the The Traitors UK, I gasped! I have been doing so much baking, cooking, sewing and cleaning this week, it’s the perfect background show and also, I’m no longer ashamed to say, I simply love it. Moving onto Australia next.

LISTENING

I’m back on my Spotify Daylist bullshit. Sonata Symphony Sunday Morning, anyone?

You’re receiving this post Monday, the day of the show y’all! Our first seating tonight is at 5pm. We are so FREAKING excited. I can’t wait to update you next week.

I hope you have a lovely last few days of April, what a wonderful month. Get your hands on some fresh strawberries or asparagus, whatever has finally come into season now that we are getting close to Summer. I’m so deeply appreciative of your company here. Talk to you soon.

xoxo.

1. For the record, what I find even more grating than calling something that isn’t food delicious, is describing situations or people as yummy. GAG. UGHHHH. Nails on a chalkboard. I cannot stand it. I hate it. So much.