An Unexpected Letter from a Friend
Sometimes the reality of this world sneaks up on me and I am overcome with emotion. Breathless and confused, it sends me into a tailspin. All I know how to do in moments of this kind of heavy grief is to cook. It’s my resolve. An artform so vital we wouldn’t exist without it. It’s methodical and mindless all at once. It soothes me in the same way a wordless hug from a friend does – “I am here. I am the same. You can rely on me.”
I know this isn’t everyone’s relationship to cooking. For some it is so stress inducing, it feels like committing to a blind date. I was raised in the kitchen. It was the command center of our house growing up. Everyone was welcome and everyone wanted to be there – even at 1 am when the party was supposed to be in the basement. When we cried, it was at the kitchen table. When news came on the telephone it was at the desk in the kitchen. When memories were made it was around the island counter. I can’t separate the thoughts of my childhood from the kitchen because everything happened there. It is comfort.
For me the constant flow of cooking, the movement of my hands, the satisfaction of cleaning (my mom would tell you this is a newly learned skill), the smells, the successes and the failures are deep rooted pleasures. I entered the kitchen the other day with tear-stained cheeks after watching the news. My intention was to make pizza dough. I made dough, focaccia, started a pot of carnitas, infused gin with grapefruit scraps, created a sink full of dishes to scrub and left feeling soothed.
When I was a kid, 12 years old to be exact, I fell ill. It just happened. One week I was normal and healthy and the next I couldn’t lift myself off the couch. Endless bloodwork, bone marrow biopsies and very frequent trips to Lurie’s Childrens Hospital, there was no explanation. My body stopped making red blood cells and some of the smartest doctors in the country could not figure out why. So I spent 7th grade on the couch, watching Food Network – back when it was educational food programming. I ate it up! Ina Garten engulfed me in her Hamptons warmth and taught me to cook, day after day. During this illness I barely ate. I could barely sit up, let alone indulge. It seems like messed up punishment to watch food TV but for some reason it was motivation. Iron Chef, Emeril Lagasse, Tyler Florence and Ina, over and over again. So many blood transfusions later, so many loyal visitors sitting by for 9 months. One day I just got up. I walked to the kitchen and asked if I could make some guacamole. It was a real sitcom moment. My mom nearly dropped the phone at her ear –“I’m going to have to call you back, Nicki is up.” She ran to the store for avocados, still somewhat exotic at that point, and by the time she got back I was back down on the couch, but it was a start. I eventually recovered from what my brilliant doctor uncle has dubbed “Nickanemiosis” aka mystery illness that really messed me up for the better part of a year.
Fast forward 22 years and I’ve won 4 Iron Chef competitions, real ones on air with Stephanie Izard, got drunk with Tyler Florence in Barbados and have truly never stopped cooking. It is my constant, my mental challenge and my physical outlet. It’s carried me through hardships and deep emotions and I am lucky to have it. I am still waiting for my invite to Ina’s house though.
This letter was intended as a newsletter with recipes and celebration but that’s not right for this moment. This world is a hard place to live. The decisions of a few have intense long-lasting impacts on many. I keep thinking about how far I would go to protect not only my own child, but someone else’s and there is truly no limit. Children are and always will be our delicate future requiring the most care and protection. I’ve never forgotten how caring and kind people were to me when I was sick and have always looked for ways to pay it forward. I haven’t caught my breath enough this week to really think through how I can act but the first places to start are to donate, call, write – use your voice to protect our future. Please click one link or all of them to show your support and encourage our leaders to act. I hope this won’t be your only action but it is a start.
Donate - Everytown for Gun Safety
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