Episode 3: Talking Relationships on Valentine's Day? Groundbreaking.
I’m still writing about the pandemic, sorry.
Hey there!
Happy Valentine’s Day. Thank you for spending this romantic morning in the sexiest place of all: reading emails in your inbox. I’m honored to be part of your day. This week, I will be discussing relationships. Not commercialized-flowers-and-chocolate-buy-her-something-from-Kay-Jewelers-relationships, but all relationships. I have some fun Valentine’s wine picks as well — in case you’re a procrastinator and need a last minute bottle for tonight (I won’t tell).
What I thought about this week
Today marks the third weekend since California reopened, and I haven’t found it an especially graceful transition. Which led me to question, do I hate everyone?
Mere weeks ago, I was sitting in front of a computer with 15 tabs open, zoning out over a spreadsheet, struggling to remember what I was, uh, doing. I thought to myself, “I could never be at a desk all day. I miss people.” So, now that I’m around people again, what’s the deal?
I thought about the relationships I craved in quarantine. Obviously, my friends and family. But it was more expansive than that. Being an only child with mild social anxiety, I grew up equally mystified by relationships, and wanting more of them (so much that I regularly told my parents I wanted a sibling, which I now feel bad about). I put high expectations on myself to always be interesting, because I was sure if I were boring, no one would like me. In my mind, this was the only way to have a friend: to perform my way to being liked. One of the most freeing parts of growing up was growing out of this and finding relationships that weren’t guided by rigid small town or high school social norms. I learned that around genuine friends, I could have bad days, I could relax, and I could be boring. As I felt more comfortable with myself, I really started enjoying the hospitality business, because it provided the perfect script to form connections. Starting a conversation out of the blue still made me nervous, but in restaurants I had phrases to fall back on: Can I get you a drink? Do you have any questions about the menu? Yes, even if you order a “skinny margarita,” there is still sugar in it.
Restaurants have a reputation for being an island of misfit toys; people from all walks of life find themselves there. Not only did I find acceptance, I found confidence. Talking to dozens of people throughout the course of a shift left me buzzing. I began to enjoy small interactions with other managers, servers, bartenders, and clerks wherever I went; we had a common language. We all followed the same cardinal rule: don’t be an asshole to the service staff. This was enough to feel a part of a wider community. Suddenly, what could be referred to as my “outer circle,” (or connections that aren’t necessarily friends but that are present in my life) expanded. Simultaneously, the vastness of the city shrank. Sometimes a familiar face, or a random stranger compliment, is the only validation one needs. I felt rooted in my deep relationships, and energized by the brief exchanges with Uber drivers, coffee shop baristas, and the lady at the sandwich shop across the street.
I realized I missed this complex, interrelated web of friendships and relationships. The pandemic had changed it. It altered my deeper friendships — zoom happy hours didn’t come close to real ones, etc. As my friendships strained, everyday social interactions with strangers vanished. And, I would argue, the pandemic robbed us of some of the genuine connection of hospitality. Dining is more transactional now; you can feel the desperation. Everyone wants to have a good time because they haven’t been out in months. And I get that. While I am happy to provide a bright moment in an otherwise dreary time — we’re all on edge. Those high expectations are creeping back in, and I can’t relax. Work, and the superficial interactions that accompany it, are now incredibly demanding. I feel put in a constant position to give and give and give, and while that is certainly fulfilling to a degree, it can easily become depleting. Especially as I have less of a safety net myself — I’m going out less, I’m seeing less friends, and my outer circle has all but collapsed. It’s harder to find the sense of community; life is mostly work, and home.
Those of us with partners and families are left to turn inward to lean on our most prized relationships. In ways, I’ve grown to love my partner differently than I ever imagined. For example, my parents bought us matching fleece pajama pants, and we looked at each other the other night, not having planned to match, and exclaimed, “we’re both wearing our comfy pants!” There’s this sense of total ease and contentment. Movie nights every night. That said, to expect one person to emotionally fulfill us completely is a big ask. What’s obvious to me, now more than ever, is that we need a thriving, diverse array of relationships: romantic relationships, friendships, vague acquaintances, and fleeting pleasantries. Right now our social lives are lopsided; we’re unbalanced, unmoored, all desperately and ironically searching for a community to prop us up in a time of isolation.
What I drank this week
Alright, Valentines lovers (ew, what? Sorry I said that) — I promised you sexy wines in this newsletter. Here they are:
Jolie-Laide, Grenache/Syrah/Mourvédre, Amador County, Sierra Foothills, California 2018 $40ish
True fact: this bottle won the 2018 Miss America beauty pageant. It’s a showstopper; a beauty. It’s a red blend, commonly referred to as a “GSM Blend” for the three grapes it contains: Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvedre (and in this case, a little Viognier for good measure). The specific blend originates in France’s Southern Rhone region, known for a hot Mediterranean climate and dry red wines. Although this wine is made in California, if you close your eyes and delude yourself enough, you can imagine sipping it in the South of France — surrounded by miles of lavender fields while eating olives, bread, and sun-ripened tomatoes poolside on a lounge chair. The producer, Jolie-Laide, is actually a single man operation. He’s a small producer, making only 500 cases per year (6,000 bottles). I like him because, like me, he’s a California transplant via Chicago. His wines are made with integrity, and I swear, you can almost taste the good Midwestern sensibility.
Chateau Tour Grise, Cabernet Franc, Saumur, Loire Valley, France 2001 $17 - $20
This wine is from 2001, the same year Shrek came out. Feel old yet? That was 20 years ago.
Great, so now that we’re all spiraling, let me tell you the good news: this is a seriously delicious bang for your buck. It’s a Cabernet Franc (lighter than Cabernet Sauvignon) from the Loire Valley in France that is aging, well, like fine wine. Still amazingly vibrant with notes of bright red fruit, zippy red bell pepper, and generous earth — this wine is built to last. It’s rich, textured, and unfiltered. The Chateau itself dates back to the 1500s (feel old NOW?????) and has long been a family run operation. We drank this bottle with meatball subs and it was *chef’s kiss*.
Dirty and Rowdy, ‘California Familiar’ Mourvédre, California 2019 $33
This wine is what you could call a “fun romp.” It’s a good sluggin’ wine; it fits in at parties or can chill during a weeknight dinner. The wine is a collaboration between two couples (Hardy and Kate and Amy and Matt). The winemaker, Hardy Wallace, lives in Napa in a house that we actually toured when we first moved here (crazy, right?). When you call the winery, you get his cell phone — that’s how small the operation is — and yet, the wine is incredibly well-crafted and made under the care of someone very detail-oriented. Dirty and Rowdy focuses on impeccable sourcing of grapes, minimal intervention, and conscious farming. Remember the grape Mourvédre from the Jolie-Laide blend? Well here it is again, bright and rambunctious. For some reason in my mind, this is a cowboy wine. I want to drink it on horseback while riding off into the sunset. Yee-haw.
What I liked this week
I’m sure everyone has already seen the viral Cat / Lawyer Zoom video, but how could this not be top of the list? It is perfect. I’m still not over it. Please indulge yourself: click here to watch!
Speaking of cats. Cuddling my little snuggle bug, who had a rough week. She has a little kitty kidney stone, so please send all your good vibes!!!!
This YouTube video from last week’s SNL hosted by Dan Levy, that I feel was personally made to roast me and my obsession with looking up condos on Zillow.
Watching my friend, and former colleague, Damarr Brown get featured in this TimeOut article, “15 Black trailblazers who are changing the way we eat and drink in 2021.” It’s cool to see your friends doing cool things, you know??
Eating ice cream, and only ice cream, for dinner one night. Ben and Jerry’s Netflix and Chilled is incredible. It’s everything I want — peanut butter, salty pretzels, brownies. Delicious.
This book of poetry, recommended to me by someone from my high school:
This incredible piece on Substack: love and slush puddles (if you only read one link on this email, let it be this one)
Going for “podcast walks” around my neighborhood where I listen to a podcast, smile to myself like a crazy person, and enjoy that things are always blooming here. I took this picture on a walk the other day. Like, ok, we get it California.
Getting caught in the rain on Thursday, which made my hair look exactly like a colonial man’s hair. I mean, it’s uncanny.
On that note, I’m going to call it a week.
Obligatory buttons:
Thanks for reading!! Be well and take care of your loved ones. And also, yourself.
Cheers until next week.
With love,
Kate
Reading this made me feel better ❤️ I’m late reading this cuz I’m always late to catching up on social media things now (an ode to your other post ;) ). Opening yourself up like this I’m sure is not easy, but you’re very good at it and I thank you for it. I related to soooo much about this post and can’t wait to read more.
PS plz move back to Chicago
What ‘I’ liked this week, #4: Seeing my niece do cool things! (I get so tired of always seeing your uncle be the cool one!). 💕
I so loved this post and I relate to more than you know (and it’s not the wine, which I’m now dying to try).