Take a Personal Day
The Friday Newsletter ponders going off the grid for eight or maybe even twelve hours
Every once in a while, I think about disappearing.
I don’t mean really disappearing. I’m not trying to run away from my family and start a new life or anything like that. (First of all, I like them. Second, that seems like a ton of work. Where am I going to get a cadaver exactly my size?) No, I’m talking about temporarily disappearing—just dropping off the grid of daily responsibilities, of emails and Teams meetings and places that I need to be for a day. Sure, I can schedule time off if I want to get out of the office—and to be clear, I’m firmly of the “never leave a single hour of PTO unspent” mindset—but invariably, scheduled time off ends up scheduled in its own way, either with structured leisuretime activities or catching up on all those other non-work things I’ve been meaning to do.
I got to thinking: what would I do if I were granted a truly free day, an untimed down of a weekday, where I could just do whatever the heck I wanted? What would I even do with all that time?
More importantly, what would you do?
I’m going to throw a few parameters on this imagined scenario.
It’s a weekday, and you’re freed of your responsibilities, but no one else is. (If you’ve got a partner, they’ve still got to work, and if you’ve got kids, they’ve still got to go to school. None of this “I would spend time with my loved ones” silliness; this is a personal day.) You are starting out wherever you started out today, and you have to be back by the end of the day.
Where are you going? What are you doing?
How would you spend a free day?
Me? I’m going for a nice long walk, and maybe contemplating a river along the way. I’m taking a book into a bar, and reading for nothing other than pleasure. I’m getting out a sketchpad and drawing, because I’m not good enough enough at drawing for that to be a hobby I’m tempted to monetize and yet I still enjoy doing it.
I’m letting my mind rest, and not for a second looking at my phone, which I may or may not have thrown into said river.
I’m taking a day off.
Of course, I’m not taking today off.
Friends, it’s Friday at The Action Cookbook Newsletter.
Today, I’ve got just what you need for a hypothetical day of playing hooky—a tasty bar snack, a refreshing beer, some great up-and-coming music, a terrific book that’s also a quick read, a great show to binge, some pets, and more!
Call in sick.
We’ve got some livin’ to do.
It is nice to be known for something.
Over the years, I’ve cultivated a personal brand that is… how do I say this?
Skyline-positive? Five-way-friendly?? Coney-centric???
Put simply: I’m known for my embrace of Cincinnati chili.
I’ve penned eloquent and impassioned defenses of the Queen City’s most famous culinary cultural export. I post pictures every time my son and get Skyline, a tradition that neatly aligns with when we get haircuts. I’ve even incorporated it into some wild creations of my own, like the time I filled football-shaped arancini with it:
I’ve banged this drum so thoroughly that many people, when exposed to some new piece of online content related to it, will immediately send it to me.
I want to be clear here: this absolutely delights me every time.
There are far worse things to be known for than “the guy who champions this weird regional food”, and a good handful of those worse things could be reasonably applied to me. I like that you see someone filling ravioli with Cincinnati chili and think “I bet Scott would like this.”
Anyways, a few weeks ago, my good friend Tracy was at the New Riff distillery in Newport, Kentucky (just across the river from Cincinnati), and picked up a bag of “Cincinnati Chili Cashews” produced by Dean’s Mediterranean Imports, a retailer based out of Cincinnati’s Findlay Market.
She thought of me, and brought a bag back for me.
Now, there’s a possibility you recoil at this concept. (You’re wrong to do so, but I’m forgiving.) The thing is, what makes Cincinnati-style chili unique—aside from the mound of cheddar cheese it’s usually buried under—is a really great spice blend, one heavily influenced by the Greek and Macedonian heritage of the people who made it popular. It’s a blend that includes allspice, cinnamon, cloves and chili powder that’s genuinely delicious, and one that—if there’s any justice—will someday take its rightful place alongside Pumpkin Spice in the Valhalla of spice blends.
(The nuts were good, is what I’m saying.)
Of course, it’s not enough for me to tell you that you should grab a bag of these if you’re in Cincinnati. I wanted to see if I could recreate them at home.
Cincinnati Spice Cashews
2 cups raw cashews