Anger On The Menu

monetizing madness and learning to step back

someone noticed this painting in the background of my IG post this week so I thought I’d post it here too

I spend a lot of time alone in the kitchen. Once I figure out what I am going to make, I let my mind wander. I pull at one thread, again and again. How am I feeling? It can be hard for me to tell. I edit my emotions before I can feel them. But after reading all your amazing comments on the last essay, I’m in my feelings and I know I’ve got a whole gang of you in the kitchen laughing, crying, and taste-testing right alongside me. It’s strong medicine and I needed it. I’m the kind of person who keeps a lot to herself. If something difficult happens in my life, it can take me weeks, months, or even years to share it with the people that I love. It’s a terrible reflex. I’ve got this voice in my head that reminds me that other people are in the weeds too, that I’m not the main character, and sharing my struggles just adds to their already full plates. What could voicing my anger accomplish that years of effort couldn’t? Best to just keep it all to myself and hope that time takes care of what therapy can’t fix. But that voice is full of shit. I read all your stories, and I didn’t feel weighed down. I saw myself, my mom, and my friend’s lives reflected in all your comments and I felt so much lighter. Thank you. I hope you felt seen because I sure did.

So, how am I feeling? Fucking angry. We all are. Just pick a reason: the cost of groceries, childcare, insurance, our lack of a social safety net in the US, your business partner took a buttload of money, no bodily autonomy for women, war, famine, genocide, VC funds buying up all the housing, the upcoming US presidential election, your ex won’t pay child support, your parent won’t take their pills. It doesn’t stop.

Joshua P. Hill

wrote a great essay this week about our outrage economy and how we need to get off the rollercoaster. Bad faith takes become national headlines, another wildly successful podcaster turns out to be a creep, and the trolls in our own lives are leaving us empty. Hill points out that our anger is a resource that fuels virality, attention, and ultimately pads the wallets of the powers that be.

“There’s a deep exhaustion that comes from anger with no outlet. It’s consuming. Action is one way out, but many of us need to step away from the outrage economy to move from anger to action. We need to stop riding the highs that inevitably come crashing down, and move to more measured media, or media that pairs fury with organizing in a deliberate manner. There’s no one right way, but there is a wrong way. Letting our justified anger be mined, farmed, and monetized isn’t the answer.”

This echo/scream chamber is hurting all everyone. We’re all losing. It’s time to try something new.

Our anger is valuable so we should own it, not swallow it. It’s giving all of us IBS. We weren’t made to deal with every problem in the world all at the same time. But you were made to put your anger to use in the world right around you. That might sound like one more thing you’re being pressured to put on your to-do list but you need to get it out. Join a book club, start going on walks with neighbors after dinner, or just practice saying no. It doesn’t need to be overly complicated. Let your anger point you to the conversations you need to have with your family and friends. Tell them about your labor, about dinner, about the thousands of ways your heart is breaking that their own anger won’t let them see. It’s not too much. Our anger is valuable currency, let’s not spend it on assholes who just like to watch us sweat. Spring is a time for new growth so let’s fucking grow. 

 I’ll be back in two weeks with a brand-new dispatch from the kitchen, but in the meantime, here are some words to live by from the poem “When My Daughter Tells Me I Was Never Punk” by Jessica Walsh from her work Book of Gods and Grudges.

I did not let these days go by, I clawed each one from the dirt.

When I get my nails done I am cleaning weapons,

When I buy food, when I fill the tank,

I am threatening to survive long enough to piss off

a million awful people to be alive in spite of,

I am promising to stay flagrantly alive:

This is my beautiful house. I am this beautiful wife.

How did I get here? I say, By my fucking teeth.

A lil housekeeping:

The ebook version of my latest cookbook, Hungry as Hell, is going on sale tomorrow for $2.99 on Amazon and allegedly, everywhere else to. It’s got over 100 brand new recipes and all kinds of fun stuff like this Meal Manager in the back. Pretty helpful huh?

Grab a copy if you’re into it. Not sure? Here’s one of my favorite soups from the book that’s perfect for spring.

Chickpea and Tahini Soup with Orzo

Makes 4-6 servings

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 yellow onion, chopped

1 large zucchini, cut into quarter moons, skin on

4 cloves of garlic, minced

1 teaspoon dried oregano

¼ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon ground pepper

1 ½ cups cooked chickpeas or one 15 ounce can, drained and rinsed

8 cups vegetable broth

4 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, about 2 lemons

2 tablespoons tahini

1 carrot, shredded on a box grater, about ½ cup ¼ cup chopped fresh parsley

¼ cup chopped fresh dill

¼ cup chopped fresh parsley

2 cups cooked orzo, similar small pasta, or rice

In a large soup pot, warm up the olive oil over a medium heat. Add the onion and cook until you start to see it brown in some spots, about 8 minutes. Add the zucchini, garlic, and dried oregano and cook for another 2 minutes more, just until the zucchini starts to soften up. Throw in the salt, ground pepper, cooked chickpeas, and vegetable broth and scrap off any tasty bits of onion that might have stuck to the bottom of the pot. Let this come to a simmer, then turn the heat to low.

In a medium glass, start mixing the lemon juice and tahini together as best you can. Slowly whisk in a couple tablespoons of the warm soup broth at a time until all the tahini has all dissolved into the liquid in the glass. If you try to cut this step you’ll end up with a clump of tahini siting at the bottom of your pot so don’t fucking rush this. Once the tahini is one with the liquid in the glass, stir it into the soup pot along with the shredded carrot, dill, and parsley. Now add 1 ½ cups of the cooked orzo to the pot and then turn off the heat. Stir and taste. Add more of whatever the fuck you think it needs.

Serve warm with a little extra orzo on top of each bowl with some of the chopped herbs and a crack of some fresh pepper.

Cheat Sheet: Want to make this soup a one pot wonder, add 1 cup of dried orzo in at the same time as the chickpeas and cook until the pasta is tender. This results in a thicker soup but does save on dishes. Your call.

Xoxo,

Michelle