First off, I sincerely apologize for my negligence in posting to this blog in the past few months. This blog started as a project to keep my brain occupied during my “funemployment” and as I returned to the working world I have not been able to keep up.
Today, I am posting again for a number of reasons:
1. I have time. I ran 10 miles this afternoon and realized that I pretty much used up all my energy for the day. I was planning on going food shopping, but there is no way I am going down those stairs again. Even after yesterday’s lock-down, I will be pretty content to stay in tonight.
2. I actually have a lot I want to write about. My city just experienced a week of terror and I have all sorts of conflicting emotions about it (which is rare for me).
3. I told Sarah I would share my recipe for sweet potato risotto.
So, here goes. I really cannot express the enormous sense of gratitude I feel right now. Not just because I escaped “the terror,” but also because it reminded me of how fortunate I am, and how great my life is. Sometimes I realize how incredibly privileged I am, and it often overwhelms me. My privilege is not necessarily unique but it is shared with many other members of the white middle class community that grew up in the suburbs. I am privileged because I grew up with a stable, normal family and got a great education. I attended an expensive private college with an academic scholarship, and I also earned a useless Master’s degree (just for fun!). I have a job that I love – it pays me a stable salary that allows me save money, all the while I am working to secure a clean energy future.
No one will ever look at me and assume that I am a criminal. In fact, most people look at me and think I am quite charming – it makes me good at my job, and gives me so many advantages in life that many people of color do not have. I am 30 but most people think I look like I am 25. I am in pretty good shape, I eat healthy (most of the time) because I am fortunate enough to afford local organic vegetables, and I am educated about nutrition. I work hard at my job, but I also have spare time to go to the gym, cook awesome food, and go on spring break with my amazing lady friends.
I have never been hungry, and I have always had a warm place to sleep. Yes, I have slept on floors, I have not always had a bed, but never before in my life have I ever had to sleep on the street.
My city went through a lot this week, but we are all fortunate enough that this bombing is an aberration, not the norm. I can’t begin to imagine what life is like for people who experience violence and bombings on a daily basis.
Never before in my life have I experienced the direct impact of terror, and honestly, I still didn’t this time. Yes, I remember 9/11, the shooting in Newtown, CT was about 10 minutes from the house I grew up in, and a bomb went off in the city I live in, which killed 3 people and injured close to 200. I was not there but some of my friends were, and they literally had to run for their lives. Perhaps if I had been there yesterday’s manhunt would have seemed more real for me, but it honestly did not seem real, it was happening on TV and social media. Sure, I was tense and nervous but I never felt like I was in any real danger, because I wasn’t.
This bombing happened in my city, but it barely impacted my life. My flight was a little delayed coming home from my amazing spring break in Nashville, big fucking deal. The MBTA was shut down yesterday and the entire city was on lock-down – so I didn’t have to go to work. Instead I tried (and failed) to work from home, and was pretty much glued to the TV and social media. I have a TV, a computer, an iPad, and a smart phone (so many appliances and privilege, I can hardly stand it), so it is actually difficult to get away from social media.
As I watched the manhunt, my emotions were really difficult to describe. I was nervous, but I wasn’t scared. In my life, I have never really feared for my life. The whole experience really was like watching a movie. I know it was happening in my city and could potentially impact me, or people I care about. The two suspects lived in Central Sq. Cambridge, and most of the drama was happening in Watertown. Most of my friends live in Somerville or Cambridge, so this was all happening in an area that could impact people I care about.
I guess what I mean to say is that I feel enormously grateful with a touch of guilt; guilty because I didn’t get very upset about it. Guilty, because I live in a bubble that privileged white girls like me live in, where I don’t really believe that anything that bad can happen to me. Bad things (like violence or poverty) happen to people far away, who don’t look like me, and whom I rarely interact with on a daily basis.
I also want to take this opportunity to discuss how much I fucking love this city. I was not born and raised in Boston, but my parents both grew up in the greater Boston area, and most of my extended family lives in Massachusetts. I grew up in a quiet Connecticut suburb but always felt like I belonged in Boston (I know, a native Bostonian will not accept this). I grew up an ardent Red Sox fan among a community of mostly Yankee fans – a team I still hate with such an absurd passion. I cried in 2003 when the Sox lost the ALCS to the Yankees, and I cried even more when they beat the Yankees in the 2004 ALCS, and then went on to win the World Series by sweeping the Cardinals (I cried when the Sox won, but not when I heard a bomb went off at the Marathon – isn’t that kind of fucked up?)
I know my city is not perfect – it is far from it. My city is incredibly segregated. We do not have the restaurants of NY, SF, or Chicago, and our public transit is flawed. I love my city because I have lived here through the most formative time in my life (college, my twenties). When I travel I say I am from Boston (not CT), and I currently try to claim that I am from East Boston (but native East Boston-ers see right through me).
My city’s first responders kept me, and everyone else, safe while a dangerous armed terrorist was on the loose (I say terror, meaning he committed an act of terror, I am not trying to connect him with Al-Qaeda). They endured 22 hours of hell, after an incredibly stressful and emotional week to keep our city safe while I sat at home sipping wine.
I love my city because of our incredible sense of community, and pride. I may not stay here forever (so many other great places to live and explore) but I will always call Boston my home.
So, this is a lot of what was going on in my head yesterday as I made sweet potato risotto, and today as I ran 10 miles. I have a really great life and I am so happy and grateful for my amazing friends and family that I share it with. Sometimes I complain about the small things (like when a pedicure does not meet my standards) but all things considered, I am extremely grateful.
And now for the recipe I promised you …
Ingredients:
3 sweet potatoes
1 ½ cups Arborio rice
5 cups water (I thought I had veggie broth, but I didn’t – you should use broth)
Cumin
Cinnamon
1 garlic clove, diced
Salt/Pepper
1 cup white wine
EVOO
Goat cheese
First, I peeled and cut the sweet potatoes into cubes. I usually cut myself when I cook, but I did not yesterday. Success! I put the sweet potatoes in a baking dish lined with aluminum foil (easier clean up), and covered them with olive oil, a pinch of salt, cinnamon, and cumin. I baked it for about 45 minutes (I really wasn’t paying attention) at 350 degrees.
Next step in making a delicious risotto, is the broth. Sadly, I had to use water, but I scooped out some of the cooking, seasoned sweet potatoes and boiled them in my broth to give it some more flavor.
Next, I cut some garlic and tossed it into a frying pan with olive oil. I added a cup of white wine, then the Arborio rice. I waited until most of the liquid dissolved, then starting adding the broth ½ cup at a time until the broth was fully absorbed. Then I took the sweet potato
out of the oven and mixed it into the rice. I probably should have seasoned it some more here, it did come out a little bland.
To serve it, I mixed in a little goat cheese and served on a bed of lettuce. I was hoping it would be good with lettuce, but it wasn’t (we have an excess of lettuce and sweet potatoes in my house). I would have preferred a chard, or arugula.
Overall though, it was pretty damn delicious. My roommate who does not like sweet potatoes agreed that it was good (although she added salt).
Nothing like keeping your mind off an armed terrorist on the lam than making a sweet potato risotto!