Not now, Pastabot
Today on the ACBN: a hearty soup, a wintry cocktail, indie rocks, a good book and some words
Hello, my friends. Welcome back to another Friday at The Action Cookbook Newsletter.
I didn’t deliver a newsletter as regularly scheduled earlier this week, and I’d like to apologize for that. I’ve held to a pretty regular publishing schedule for years now, and it galls me to miss a deadline, even a self-imposed one. I had a short story idea that I couldn’t quite pull off in time, and a few other ideas that felt just a little too half-baked to deliver this week. Those are excuses, though. The real explanation is that, in times like these, I fear that my often-jovial online presence risks becoming a Pastabot.
I’m referring, of course, to this Twitter post from 2015, an absurd little vignette that’s now been lodged somewhere in my brain for nearly a decade:
A lot happened this week, much of it predictable but very little of it good, and I’ve spent the past few days in a state of low-level dread and simmering disgust that I expect many of you share. Political commentary is neither my wheelhouse nor my preference for this newsletter, but now’s not the time to cheerily stride in with the blog equivalent of another bowl of pasta, either.
So, I’d like to say a few things before I start today.
(Don’t worry, all the normal Friday stuff comes after this.)
We’re at a moment in our nation’s history that’s at once bewildering and all too familiar. Obviously, we haven’t learned our lesson as a society at large, or we wouldn’t be here, but I hope we’ve learned a few things as individuals, and can approach this round with a changed perspective.
Over the past decade, a number of people discovered that they could build pseudo-journalistic careers by simply live-tweeting1 every single press conference, rally or cable-news-show call-in, mining those hours of vile blather and banter for outrageous comments that could be quote-tweeted, re-shared and otherwise reacted to. I’ve fallen for this bait for years, but I realize now that it’s simply entertainment masquerading as resistance. I’m going to try my best to remove myself from that cycle.
That’s not to say that there’s not plenty to be outraged about, however.
The barrage has been swift and cruel this week, with pointed orders being hurled in the direction of vulnerable people as fast as they can be written by ChatGPT-assisted goons, and few targets have been spared. I’ve long been guilty of a sort of naive optimism, embracing a misreading of Dr. King’s quote about the arc of the moral universe bending toward justice as a reassurance instead of a call to action. I’ve thought that we just need to outlast the villainy, that everything would be fine if we just waited long enough.
Well, there’s no guarantee that things are going to be fine, and there’s actual, concrete harm being done right now.
Just look at the new administration’s executive order rolling back federal gender-recognition standards. This needless and cruel move does nothing to change the validity of our trans sisters and brothers’ identities, as many have expressed in recent days. It does, however, create immediate real-world problems for them—difficulties in obtaining government documents, in finding and maintaining employment and housing, and most critically, in receiving essential health care.
To take the attitude that we’ve survived this once, we’ll survive it again is both an insult and a danger to people for whom that’s far from guaranteed, people targeted for simply trying to live their lives.
I’m not giving in to doomerism yet, though.
I refuse to believe that our fates—the fates of our friends and loved ones, our sisters and brothers, our daughters and sons—are sealed. We are in a dark moment, for sure, but I’m not ready to give up on the idea of a better world.
Words without action aren’t any more helpful than an outraged quote-tweet, and I realize that. I have to stop talking and find a way to channel my energies into making things better. God grant me serenity and and courage and wisdom and all that jazz—we can’t sit around waiting for someone else to save us.
We’re all we’ve got.
I don’t want this to be a totally empty trip to the top of a soapbox, so today I’m making a donation to The Trevor Project2, a nonprofit focused on suicide prevention efforts among LGBTQ youth. If you are able, I encourage you to do the same.
If you email me3 a screenshot of a donation along with your address, I’ll ship you an ACBN drink koozie, too (while supplies last).
It’s the literal least I can do, but hey—it’s a start.
Now, uh… who wants pasta?
This introduction would’ve worked way better if I had a pasta dish in my plans for today’s newsletter. I don’t, but I’ve still got some stuff I think you’ll like.
Today, that includes a perfect-for-this-frigid-week Slow Cooker Tortilla Soup, a dark and delicious winter cocktail, some fresh indie rock, a stirring nonfiction book, some stuff to watch this weekend, pets, and more!
I come not to praise the week, but to bury it.
For those about to crock, we salute you
It has been very cold this week.
I think you already know that, and chances are you’ve experienced it first-hand. Normally there are a few places in this country where it’s borderline-pleasant this time of year, but I’ve seen pictures of snow and ice on Florida beaches. There’s nowhere to run from winter this year.
That’s a situation that calls for soup.
Recently, longtime reader Amy Olsen tipped me off to The Chef and the Slow Cooker, a lovely cookbook from chef Hugh Acheson, whose Athens, GA restaurant Five and Ten is a personal favorite. I had fun leafing through it the other day, and he had a recipe for tortilla soup that sounded terrific.
It also required more effort than I wanted to put in this weekend, so I opted against making it his way. I didn’t want to pre-sear chicken, didn’t want to deal with dried peppers—I didn’t want to make this a whole big thing. Also, I wanted to ensure that my spice-averse kids and wife would enjoy it, while still having enough flavor for me.
I ended up with a dumbed-down, de-spiced version that was delicious, and that’s what I’m sharing here today. I thank Amy and Hugh for the inspiration.
Family-Friendly Slow-Cooker Tortilla Soup
(serves eight, or four with leftovers)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 yellow onion, finely chopped
2 stalks celery, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 (28-ounce) can peeled tomatoes
In a small saucepan with high sides, heat the oil until shimmering, and add the onion and celery. Cook over medium heat for 3-5 minutes until they just start to soften, then add in the garlic and spices. Stir well, then add the can of tomatoes. Using an immersion blender, blend it all to a chunky consistency.
6 cups chicken broth
3 pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs
Add the tomato blend, chicken broth and chicken thighs to a slow cooker, flipping the thighs to coat them, and set to cook on low for 8-10 hours. Go about your day for 8-10 hours. At the end of your cook time, remove the chicken from the liquid with tongs or a kitchen spider, shred roughly, and return to the liquid.
1 can white hominy, drained
1 can black beans, drained
Stir in the hominy and black beans, and ladle into bowls. Serve with:
avocado slices
cilantro
crumbled queso fresco
Chili Cheese Fritos
Really, this last move was my stroke of genius. My nine-year-old son can be skeptical of new recipes, but he loves Chili Cheese Fritos—and hey, they’re easier than frying up tortilla strips anyways. (They also tasted great in the soup.)
I had this twice this week and I’m sad there’s not more left.
We’ve gone to plaid!
I’ve spent the latter half of this week tromping around construction sites in single-digit cold, an unfortunate byproduct of having a job other than this newsletter. I’ve suited up for the frigid weather: fleece pullover, heavy winter jacket, gloves, hat, earmuffs—and, of course, my favorite scarf, a colorful tartan one that I bought at a tourist shop in Edinburgh in 2003.
The newest interns at my office are younger than this scarf. It was a good purchase.
Anyways, this week’s drink is wintry and features Scotch, so I’ll name it after my beloved piece of apparel: The Tartan Scarf.