Instead of bottling your emotions, maybe just cook them

Some early election morning meditations, watching the first Like Water for Chocolate episode, and that Bouillabaisse recipe I’ve been telling you about forever

(Shown above: Puducherry Bouillabaisse used to roast potatoes in a cast iron)

I watched the first episode of Like Water For Chocolate, a new series on HBO/Max based on the iconic novel by Laura Esquivel. In the novel, the protagonist, Tita, is spiritually connected to the food she makes, infusing everything she preps with her wants, her desires, her emotions. She is birthed on a bed of onions, in an ocean of her tears, crying because she can feel how much her, (absolutely cartoonishly ,cruel), mother doesn’t want her. She grows up in Mexico under high political tensions at the turn of the 20th century, and thus, throughout the story the emotions she feels are outlined in the dishes she makes, marking her desperation to make her own choices outside of her mother’s stilted, societal pressures; hated for her innate free will. 

It’s a hell of a thing to watch this morning, November 5th, 2024, the first hours of Election Day. My own tensions have run high, (along with the country’s), and watching Tita get stressed and react exactly as I would, as I do, when I succumb to my despairs, was comforting for this procrastinator. Tita and me; we cook. We cook and we cook, then hopefully we do something after we cook. 

It also helps that the series seems to be shot in that warm filter they give sweeping period narratives, closing in on when she makes cream fritters or quesadillas, even the birth onions look amazing. It’s Chef’s Table in the 1900’s, if magical realism and a story about abuse and free will was centered, (though I could make a case that most chef origin stories have a good bit of both themes). I’m rambling. 

I was struck by two things this morning. The first being TV Tita’s emotions hitting me where it hurts, pressing into the feeling of limitations. She is seen as unbridled, though she rebels quietly, and works in the confines of few allies heavily outweighed by Repression and its representatives, but she cooks magically and prolifically to stave off the energy. She is constantly being put down, underestimated, despite her extraordinary talent. And in my specific lizard brain, in spite of having read the book, knowing the ending; I want TV Tita to throw the middle finger in the air and get to business. 

Deeply unrealistic for a show with existing IP, and for real life, when I too, won’t react that way when people ask me, “how did you get the New York Times mention?” Or “do you think you can execute your dinner series?” “What do you do all day?” “How do you manage?” 

These actual questions, (the worst ones I won’t mention!) that have been asked of me lately are met with the same dull expression, a slow smile, the light leaves my eyes and I mumble a soft one word answer, or sift through a word salad as I carefully try to convey that I can do things, I get press or mentions because of the immense work and talent I exude, I execute dinners successfully because of said work, and experience I have accumulated. I still have no idea if it’s meant to let me know how undeserving I am or if it is a reflective flash of someone’s insecurity. Nevertheless, my response is said sheepishly, with less conviction than TV Tita has; real life Me has seldom uttered first draft thoughts. 

And the second being a great reminder that culture, food, music, is best when we allow it to feel romantic. Life is hard and complicated, lunch should feel like an escape from it. Sweeping scores, natural light while we artfully dip fritters into a comically large jar of honey is exactly what we need. At least for days like this.

I’ve voted early, so I’ve packed the day with meetings, dotted with bouts of kitchen work in between to give me the ability to cook in natural light, to make things all day, to hopefully take on my emotions so I can focus on being even keeled enough to deal with outside forces. 

In the literal back burner, I’m making a new batch of my current obsession, my winter red sauce secret weapon: Puducherry Bouillabaisse. Recipe and more words below.