Personal essays
On not being in such a rush to get there
The journey
In the early days of the internet we used to wander around.
Now we search and scroll.
For you young folks - in the old days we didn’t have search engines or social media.
We couldn’t open up our social media app and scroll and scroll and scroll. We wouldn’t close the app only to aimlessly open it again because there was more stuff to scroll through.
If we wanted to know something we would go to a web site we thought might have what we were looking for. We’d read it and see, no, this isn’t what we were looking for but this link on that site might take us to what we wanted.
Sometimes it would. Sometimes it wouldn’t.
Sometimes we’d be looking up something about presidential pardons and end up eight clicks later reading about the origins of the pumpkin spice latte.
It’s the way our conversations used to go. We’d be chatting with friends about the origins of pumpkin spice latte and ten minutes later be arguing about whether there should be more or fewer parking spaces downtown.
We’d wander.
Now someone pulls out their phone and looks up the origins of pumpkin spice latte.
When you’re wandering - the destination isn’t the point.
Well it is - but the destination can change along the way.
On the road
When I’m traveling I walk a lot.
I take buses, trains, and light rail too - but I walk a lot.
When I’m home I drive (or when it’s warm enough and close enough bike).
I was walking to the apartment I was staying in in Bologna and passed a cafe.
Hmmm. An espresso would be nice right now. I stopped in and ordered a coffee and - oooh that cannoli looks good. May I have that as well.
I spent an hour sitting watching people walk by long after the espresso and pastry were gone.
I walked another mile and was almost at the apartment when I saw people sitting outside a little place enjoying an afternoon cocktail.
Well, this is Italy, I suppose a late afternoon Negroni would be perfect.
Moments later I was seated at one of the tables with the orange drink and a bowl of chips in front of me.
If I’d Ubered from the train station to the apartment I would have gotten to where I was going much quicker. I could have consulted the travel guides and found the spots I simply must go to.
I wouldn’t have wandered into these enjoyable moments.
Note to self: you need to wander more while you’re home.
I search and scroll. I never walk to the nearest coffee shops that I like. They are two miles away.
Why don’t I walk there?
I don’t know. I mostly drive and in warmer months I bike.
When I’m home, I just don’t wander.
Creating
The other night I made a variation on Gricia for our block party.
The version I learned to make in Italy began with Pancetta and rough chopped garlic (although apparently garlic in Gricia is controversial).
For my version I began with American bacon. No self-respecting Italian would call that Gricia. The smoky bacon dominates in ways that the Pancetta doesn’t. In fact, an Italian would likely use Guancale and not Pancetta.
I boiled to many pounds of pasta and then tossed them in the cooked lardons of bacon.
In Italy we had ground just a little bit of pepper on top. Here I put a handful in a mortar and used a pestle to break it up. I bloomed the pepper in bacon fat. I think I learned to cook some spices in fat in an Indian cookbook. I added the pepper and two diffferent kinds of Pecorino Romano to the pasta.
I tossed it until it was mixed and poured it into a serving dish that I brought to the dinner course of the party as a side.
I am fairly recipe bound when I cook but I find that the more prepared I am, the more willing I am to wander a bit.
It’s the same when I write a book, presentation, or workshop. I prepare quite a bit and then I wander off as I discover what it is I really want to say.
I think that’s what I’ve done in this essay. In writing it, I realize that it’s a reminder that we come upon some of the best things when we wander.
Coffee. Negroni. The origins of pumpkin spice latte. The point we’re trying to get to.
Note to self: wander more.
Essay from Dim Sum Thinking Newsletter 246. Read the rest of the Newsletter or subscribe