You still have to make dinner
"Tell Dave White the next time he makes you dinner: 'Make me the Ina Garten roast chicken, you bow-legged bitch.'"
Love it when my friends talk about me.
The directive came from a friend in New York, instructing local friend and neighbor Gary Cotti as to how he should request a meal in my home. This New York friend is demanding.
Some things: 1. Bitch, I know, and I do that one frequently. 2. It's called "Engagement Roast Chicken," and I know that, too. I guess that's it. Two things.
I wanted to detour a little on the chicken, which I already had waiting in the refrigerator and was already planning to make on Friday night. Essentially, it's the same as the "Engagement" process: shove lemons and garlic in the cavity, make a sauce with garlic and white wine and chicken stock when it's done. Very easy.
The detour was tarragon I bought at the farmer's market, so I softened up a stick of unsalted butter, chopped up the tarragon, zested two lemons, and mixed it all together with salt and pepper. Then I shoved that under the skin of both breasts. Have you ever opened up the breast skin of a chicken or turkey? It's not difficult but might feel daunting or disgusting at first. You finger it open slowly and you think you're going to break the skin but you won't. Yes, it's gross to think about, shoving your fingers under the skin of a raw dead bird. But you should do it and put butter inside the pockets you have made. Your reward comes later when you eat it.
I'm writing about the chicken – 375F until your little thermometer tells you it's the right temp – because it's the only thing I have the clarity of brain to write about. My mind is scrambled and angry.
I should be writing about all the great ideas I've had to address the trouble of living in the United States right now, but I'm overwhelmed by the horror. I'm watching the government attack and kidnap people. I'm watching the government murder people, beat them, drag them off in unmarked cars. Anyone they want. Anyone in their way. I'm watching the Republicans cheer it on and the Democrats fail and CBS News pretend it's not happening.
When your government murders people, when you're meant to be afraid and quiet and to cower, that's when you (we, me) have to figure out ways to be and do the opposite. Keeping our minds right – Gramsci's pessimism of the intellect and optimism of the will.
You can go out in the street and protest, you can call your useless elected officials and tell them that a platform of abolishing ICE and DHS is the bare minimum to get your vote, you can give money to organizations doing the right thing, you can cancel your Spotify (they let DHS advertise, as though they weren't already shitty enough to their artists). You can help people in your own community, put your body on the line if you're ready for anything, don't if you're not. Make good things happen in the background or foreground, quietly or loudly. Something is better than nothing.
Is your own town or community quiet and ICE-free? Your actions are still meaningful. Go out into your world and do something helpful.
And then you have to go home and eat something. You still have to make dinner. Or not. Look, order a pizza, who cares. Roasting the chicken is just how I soothe myself.
When it's ready, you'll taste that tarragon and think you're in France. The fun France where it's always The Young Girls of Rochefort, not the shitty France that also hates immigrants and turns young Brigitte Bardot into old Brigitte Bardot. Anywhere but here.
