US – Stories That Are All True

What is your favorite season of year? Why?

As a preacher’s kid, I have always loved spring. Mostly because for Christian kids it’s a much tamer version of Christmas. You’re not focusing on death, but on new life. It’s a party atmosphere. There are generally tiny gifts. When we didn’t live close, our grandparents sent us small amounts of money in the mail when we were kids. One year, I talked about getting a goldfish nonstop for months and I woke up to a trail of marshmallow eggs leading to a bowl containing Othello, the aptly named Black Moor goldfish with the cutest little bubble eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. He looked like the fat Buddha baby of fish.

As an adult, the magic of springtime is not as much in Easter, but in the changes to the land in DC. I love the cherry blossoms, and cannot thank Japan enough. Walking around the Tidal Basin at the Jefferson Memorial is a singular experience in beauty.

My singular experience in beauty moved about a year ago. I used to go sit next to the giraffes in the spring because the zoo is a great place to write when it’s nice outside. You just need headphones because the internet’s biggest competition in DC is a sunny day when the flora is blooming around the Potomac and the Anacostia. In Silver Spring, I get a smaller amount of beauty at Sligo Creek. It’s an actual creek, but also a hiking trail head that takes you from around my house to the White House, which is close, but not that close. I have moved closer in than I was, which means that the White House is about 15 minutes to an hour southeast from my house, depending on traffic because the speed limit is 25 mph.It is probably faster during drive time just to hike. That was a joke, but it comes with prime sideye.

We just don’t have the infrastructure to support getting anywhere fast because you can only retrofit so much. DC was designed to be hard to navigate for troops. It’s a defense mechanism, and the proof is in the pudding because we live here and we get lost.

That reminds me of Jonna Mendez saying that she developed a shorthand so covert that not even she could understand it.

The opening of the new digs of the spy museum was in the spring, and the view from the “patio” is singular as well. You’re high enough up on a bridge that the view to The Capitol is clear. It’s beautiful at any time, but you don’t want to leave it. Well, I don’t. I’d rather sit outside and have The Capitol behind my computer when I’m writing. It makes for an excellent “desktop wallpaper of the mind.”

People think of DC as buttoned up and staid. That’s true of the federal government. The locals, left to their own devices, are “Keep DC Weird” evangelists. We could very easily have our own version of Portlandia in Takoma Park.

Spring is a great time to be a music fan in DC, because it’s nice to sit outside and there are free concerts all over the place, in all kinds of genres. To me, the most fun is hearing the jazz and classical military performing groups outside. That’s because they’re large, and I like a big sound. I came unglued earlier because I learned that Marin Alsop is conducting Beethoven 9 at National Cathedral. That is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I highly recommend getting tickets. It’s not just the music and the conductor, it’s that piece of music in that space. It gets deeply personal in National Cathedral because the entire congregation will be struggling not to sing.

Yes, it’s summer in DC now, but National Cathedral has air conditioning. I’ve checked.

Speaking of National Cathedral, I went for the first time when I was eight. I went to Westminster Abbey when I was nine. Over time, those two memories meshed together, and it was great going back as an adult and picking out which thing I remembered belonged at which church.

(I have a fondness for London, too… but like a side piece. I married DC. DC is my partner. London is my girlfriend at best.)

Spring in anyplace is my favorite season because I would rather sit outside than be in the water. There are diminishing returns on how pleasant it is to be outside if you don’t like to swim. I love it once I get in the water, but I’m not particularly motivated to put on a bathing suit of my own accord. I don’t have body image issues. My first thought is always comfort, and the temperature swings in getting in and out of the water while the breeze tickles my skin sets my nerves on fire. I am much more comfortable in jeans and a hoodie, on a sailboat or on a riverbank. I don’t know how to sail, I’ve just eaten it up every time I’ve been because I don’t feel like it’s dangerous. I’m a good swimmer, I just don’t.

I do like that Zac has a community pool, because we can take beer, soda, and stuff to grill and talk to the people in our neighborhood. I don’t know whether David and I do or not. We probably do, but because we’re in the middle of a city and Zac is in the suburbs, I doubt it’s the same vibe. I’ll just have to check it out. I know that other neighborhoods in Silver Spring do have them, but they’re out past where it’s easily Metro accessible…. as in, there’s enough space that it looks like Virginia again.

I do have several neighborhood parks around me, part of the reason that moving was difficult. It’s a further walk to public transportation. It doesn’t bother me, though, because I get most things delivered and I am building up strength by walking the dog every day. Walking to the bus is a hike and I’m here for it, because it is keeping me young and fit. I don’t have to have a gym membership if Im building exercise into my day, and it’s a 15 minute walk with *lots* of incline. Walking to the bus is one thing. walking home is quite another.

Ask Bryn.

This has probably been my favorite spring in DC, having my people around me at the Spy Museum in May. Zac said that he’d go with me to hear Jonna Mendez, and was looking forward to it when he was called away on temporary duty. So, it meant a lot to me that I got to go back with him, Bryn, and Dave later on.

Being able to share DC with Bryn was the best thing I’ve experienced in years. We have a deep, rich history in Oregon, and we are just beginning our mid-Atlantic chapter in terms of exploring the land together. I hope that she gets here often enough over the years for us to hit the highlights. For instance, we didn’t see a quarter of DC and none of Baltimore.

I’d like to sit by the Chesapeake with her, too.

Last night, Zac took me to my favorite Mexican restaurant in the area because I had to show it off (he’s from Arizona and we’re seemingly alone in this city in terms of “our food.” Texas and Arizona are Mexican influenced to a very heavy degree, and DC is, shall we say……. Not.

I like Salvadoran food. I like Nicaraguan food, etc. But there’s no nostalgia in banana leaf tamales for either of us. It’s not that it’s inferior, it’s that it’s not home. I have learned that the best way to eat in the city is to talk to other cooks, and ignore the white guys (for the most part). It’s not because white people don’t know Mexican food……. Around here.

I have very, very high standards because I will take a quick aside to tell the story of how I met Pati Jinich.

My father is a huge Pati Jinich fan. Huge. I didn’t even know who she was. My dad just bought us tickets to go and see her do a cooking demonstration at the Mexican Embassy (my God DC makes normal things sound amazing). I am always excited to go hear a chef talk. I did not know who I was meeting in terms of PBS fame. She is to him who Vivian Howard is to me, although my dad is definitely on the Vivian train as well.

So, my stepmother noticed my dad’s fascination with Pati and started calling her “his girlfriend.” So, when he called to tell me he wasn’t coming, I said, “careful, Dad. I’m going to steal your girlfriend.” I told her this story.

That’s how we roll. Us cooks.

At the end of the day, it wasn’t a cooking demonstration. It was like flipping shit to every chef I’ve ever had. So, she talked to me longer than she talked to anyone else and was the only one who she said, “let’s take a selfie together.” She didn’t tell me she was going to kiss me, and you can see it on my face. It’s one of the most beautiful shots I’ve ever had in my life and it was taken by a total stranger.

Which is why I will tell you about the next great chef I met, Rachel Bindel, and then I’ll post a worse one. It’s not how I would have wanted it to turn out in terms of myself, but it is on brand. I feel shell-shocked at meeting Someone. A capital S because getting back into the rhythm of speaking “kitchen” burns in my soul. I am fluent in food, it’s what I love, and I just don’t have it together physically enough to really do the job well. As my last chef told me, “you have the heart of a chef.” It took me a very, very long time to accept that I couldn’t hack it physically because I was so determined to run my own kitchen at some point. Then, at some point, it was like “fuck it. You have CP. You can’t get better by working harder.” I was working 12 and 14 hour days multiple days of the week trying to get my performance consistent. If there was an award at restaurants for perfect attendance, I got it in DC.

So, it means a lot when chefs talk to me, because I was married to a chef for a long time and rode her coattails into the business, but stayed with it on my own. I miss cooking with her, personally and professionally. She remains to this day my favorite coworkers ever. Like, I definitely wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with her, but I would be absolutely fucked not to have her on my staff.

In food, you speak with your eyes because you don’t have time for communication except for “heard,” “behind you,” “coming in hot,” “around the corner,” and my particular weakness at calling back because math, “how many we got all day?” “All day” means counting up every instance of every entree on the board. If I’d become a chef, I would have let the sous handle all that (just the math part). I am not quick enough and I know it. Being a creative with autism/ADHD affects me differently as well, because my autistic side doesn’t multitask and my ADHD side thrives on chaos. It wasn’t a good fit for me, but it is my idea of heaven.

If heaven exists and you arrive at the Pearly Gates, what would you like to hear God say?

“Bourdain says you’re on dish.”

So, when I met Rachel Bindel, new chef at Cielo Rojo (the former chef has taken on a second restaurant, so she is chef de cuisine by a hair’s breadth), I absolutely fell apart inside.

I asked her where she went to culinary school and she said simply, “Hyde Park,” and then she forgot who she was talking to. My jaw was on the floor at “heytch.” She went to CIA.

The first thing I asked her was “have you been to the Bourdain and Ripert wing?” I thought, “you better get this woman’s phone number rightthefucknow.” If you’re in The Six, you’ll know why it’s important. We are now entering a new phase of research for my novel, which is a clue, but of course you know that if I write it, it’s going to have something to do with CIA.

So, anyway, she’s a lot younger than me and just tapped my phone and gave me all her details. For as excited as I was to meet her, she looked as excited to meet me…. After I started talking. I hesitate to ask if I can meet the chef, and I don’t know why, because I always put them at ease immediately by being inside the wire. It’s different going to a table full of lay people. You absolutely have NO FUCKING CLUE what to say.

In my case, sometimes this works beautifully. In some cases, it does not. Self select as to which applies to you, and “you’re welcome” or “I’m so, so sorry” as applicable.

So, I hope I’ve made a new friend because both our heavens, at this moment, are red.

Oh, and Zac was there, too. 😉

We just had the funniest conversation where I said, “it’s okay that I’m writing about this, right? That we did this?” He said, “sure, and I appreciate that you asked. I said, “but you don’t care that I mention you, right?” (Insecure after a year and two months…. Eyeroll.) He said, “of course I don’t care if you *mention* me. I said, “ohhhh, you’ll barely rate as more than a mention in this one, too.” We weren’t in the same room, but I hope his response would have been flipping me the bird.

He knows how I feel about him, that he’s the most stand up, stable guy I know and I am blessed beyond all measure in the amount of attention he pays to details. He remembers things I don’t, and it just adds to our institutional memory. I like that we’re creating memories together so that I have him to write *about.* I’m glad to write about anything and everything, but I often write the best about the people I love because I’m so moved by them. Good writing doesn’t come from shallow emotions, and neither do good jokes.

If you’ve been following me for a long time, you know I needed to meet Rachel like I needed air, because I needed to replace some bad memories with good ones. The like cook who sexually harassed me also went to CIA, and I needed to replace a bad CIA memory with a good one to really move on and forget.

Now, I can say I know people who have been to both CIAs.

Zac doesn’t just get a mention. Last night was magic that he created himself.

So, just once, you get to see the wizard.