Familiarity

A few months ago I found myself literally sighing may way back and forth to campus from my apartment, feeling a bit of teenage self-remorse at the fact that the beautiful Berkeley hills with the fog nestled just so perfectly upon their grassy surfaces just weren't doing it for me anymore. Things had become too familiar.
I've always found myself to have a very fickle relationship with the familiar. When I was at school, I felt attached to the places and scenery that I knew by invisible strings, and upon feeling their slight tug on my shoulders as I walked around I longed to be liberated- to be somewhere new, where my senses would be overwhelmed by the unknown. Yet, I knew that eventually, after I did escape, something else would become familiar, and I would yearn for the old familiarity that I was once so weary of.

Luckily, I'm not there yet in my Parisian reverie. I'm constantly overwhelmed by new, different, sometimes incomprehensible things, but I'm still doing fine. Sometimes, in the dark corners of the day when I'm walking alone on some empty street I do get a dull pang in my stomach, signifying a desire, just for once, to run into someone I know. Yet, at the same time, I'm finding that little colonies of familiarity are settling into my existence here, just like inconspicuous sandcastles along a gentle shore.

Take for instance, this market I can't stop talking about. After two weeks of not waking up entirely too early on a Saturday to stop by the place, I had almost forgotten how happy my visits there had made me. In the meantime, I felt like things just weren't fitting into place. I kept buying food I didn't enjoy, finding my French even more inadequate when I talked to strangers, and just feeling like I wasn't really connecting with anything or anyone.

Then, last Saturday, despite the clouds of impending rain descending on the city, I stepped out the door and went to the market. I couldn't believe it, but I felt as if I was returning to something that had always been a part of my life. The two middle-aged cheese vendors that always roll their eyes at my strange requests in broken French gave me the very same look. The old grizzly guy working one of the many produce stands gave me a wink as he shoveled rustic spinach in a bag. And of course I almost buckled at the knees when the cute guy at the charcuterie stand smiled as he handed me some sliced bacon.

I left the market elated, and as I walked past the bars that I hadn't seen in a couple of weeks, returned home, and carefully unpacked my haul, I just felt right. The same people. The same vibe. I need that. I need some familiarity.

My class is coming to be the same way. I've made friendships that have completely altered my experience here for the better. We deal with the unfamiliar on our own, but laugh about it together over some wine and cheese on these well-groomed lawns.... carving out spaces of familiarity in this city that so many people already know.

Anyway, I digress. This latest recipe is something I'm extremely happy about, not only because it's from this super cool British guy named Rick Stein (thanks Rob!) but also because it's easily assembled from any market haul. Just to give a quick explanation, Rick Stein shares exactly my belief about food- the fact that combining ingredients at their peak in the most simple ways can produce amazingly delicious dishes that anyone can savor without an ounce of pretention. This recipe is so easy, and yet produces something that is unbelievably good. It's a pea dish made from shelling peas, spring onions, and some bacon or prosciutto. I'll attach the video, which is super entertaining, as well.

Peas Braised with Onions and Ham
Taken from Rick Stein

1 bunch of spring onions (the onions with the smaller round white globes)
2 thick tranches (or slices) of French style bacon (or one good slice of Parma ham)
1-2 garlic cloves, sliced thinly
2 cups of freshly shelled peas
1 handful of finely chopped parsley

Pour a good amount of olive oil in a medium-sized pan (make sure it's somewhat deep) and place over a burner at medium heat. When the oil is quite hot add the onions and stir until they're slightly browned on the outside, add some water and cover to simmer. Slice your bacon or ham into "little jewels" as Rick Stein says, or small little squares as I would say. Check on the onions- when they're soft add the ham and garlic and start stirring. Cover and let simmer. When the bacon is cooked (you'll have to wait less time if you use prosciutto of course) add the peas and cover. You'll only want to cook the peas for a few minutes... don't be afraid to taste a few as you go to make sure you get the texture that you want. When the concoction is cooked take it off the stove, pour it into a bowl and top with the chopped parsley. It goes incredibly well with some crusty bread.

Bon appetit!