August 2020 to now August 2023. That’s quite a gap. Not entirely unusual for me, but a lot happened in three years (as it would, and did, for everyone).
To sum it up:
Covid happened
I took on a big new gig at work
I took on a different big new gig at work
My dad died
I separated from my employer
I think that’s about the sum of it.
I’ll get into more over time, I’m sure1I’m not all that sure., but the main thrust of things is, existence moves inexorably forward and I continue to ride the shoals and rapids of life.
For now though, hello again! I’m Josh, I do stuff, I write things, and I’m going to try to forgive my absence and get back to doing more of that. We’ll see how that goes, eh?
So, we’ve posted a fair number of items in the past month or so, but things cooled off a bit. I could point to a number of causes, but the main one is a general desire to do something a bit different.
Writing about cooking was a nice reminder that I can string a few words together into something, even if I’m my own main audience for it. What I’m looking to do now is to write about some other topics that might be more widely helpful or less self-indulgent. The main one being management.
Currently I’m in the planning stages for a series of posts regarding people management, and more specifically call-center management, which is the career I somewhat surprisingly managed to carve out for myself.
Upcoming topics include:
Empathy
Setting goal, not goals
Flipping the org chart
Building trust
Managing remote teams
And other topics as they coalesce into solid points or themes.
I won’t be speaking about my employer specifically, as I don’t want to A) give the impression that I’m speaking for them or in any way give an impression that my views are necessarily their views and B) to hopefully show that, regardless who I work for, the lessons are broadly applicable and generally helpful. If you know me, you know who I work for. If not, it shouldn’t really matter, as long as the content applies to the work you’re doing.
With that said, keep an eye on this space for the first essay in the series to come soon. Likely on Empathy, which is the main attribute that drives all of the other work of the successful manager.
Ok, so I know tomato sauce isn’t necessarily the most intricate of recipes but stay with me here.
Some people are inspired to start cooking by a parent or a grandparent. Some by a celebrity chef, a Julia Child or an Anthony Bourdain. Some by tv shows or by newspapers. My journey into cooking started with a mostly faceless guy on YouTube named after a West Wing character.
No, not Oliver Platt. The other Babish.
I don’t remember when I started watching Andrew Rea, aka Babish, cook, but I know it was relatively early into his career on YouTube, back when the old Frasier theme song still marked the beginning of a journey into the nexus of pop culture and food culture. Andrew came to fame making recipes from television shows and movies, which he both prepares and riffs on, showing handmade techniques for recreating wildly different foodstuffs. If you haven’t seen his show, get on over there and watch a couple episodes. There’s a deep library. You’ll be enthralled for a while.
Then Andrew started a new series called Basics with Babish in which he began demystifying cooking techniques and terms, showing in an approachable, encouraging way what it looks like to prepare food that doesn’t come pre-boxed or proportioned. The videos led me to trying new things, feeling like I had the ability and capacity to actually accomplish something in the kitchen.
Early on I bought a fancy Cuisinart enameled Dutch oven after seeing it get a lot of use in these videos, but had not, until today, dusted it off for use. As they say, there’s a first time for everything:
For as long as I’ve been preparing spaghetti, which began back when I’d be watching my siblings while my mom was at work, I’d liked to tinker with the sauce. It was typically Prego or Ragu, which are, as a whole, fine, but mostly rather boring. I remember grabbing for dried oregano or basil, dashing some into the stovetop pot as it bubbled, feeling like this made that routine sauce into something my own.
I thought back to those moments as I prepared this sauce tonight, following along with Andrew’s directives, but tinkering here and there to make it my own.
The main difference from the recipe tonight was the inclusion of some spicy Italian sausage. While I’m excited to cook and to work from base ingredients to build up flavors and complexity, we’re not quite to “grind your own sausage” on the adventurousness scale. Johnsonville makes a quality option, so we ran with that.
I started with chopping up four cloves of garlic and half a yellow onion, then sauteing these with some crushed red pepper and dried oregano. To this, I squeezed in a few tablespoons of quality tomato paste, let cook together until fragrant, then added two cans of San Marzano tomatoes. Do they need to be San Marzano? I mean, I’m a guy cooking tomato sauce from an internet video. I’m no expert. But given the number of times I hear them spoken of with reverence, it’s probably best to opt for them. Plus, I think they were like a buck or two more a can. If you want cheap, maybe stick with the jarred stuff. Also tossed in some fresh basil.
Just this once, sweat the small stuff.
About 30 minutes in, I browned and crumbled the pound of sausage in some olive oil, then added to the sauce. Also, to ensure I got those tasty crispy bits, I deglazed with a splash of red wine and scraped ’em into the pot.
After around an hour, I tossed in a knob of butter, let it melt into the sauce, then fished out the basil stems and served over spaghetti. Again, we’re not quite up to making our own pasta, but the Barilla stuff served as a great sauce holder. Shred up some Parmesan and toss it on there and damned if you don’t have some dinner.
Cooking isn’t necessarily a massive investment in time and preparation and energy. Sometimes it’s choosing to opt to make something yourself instead of reaching for the mass-made pre-prepared option. It’s believing enough in yourself that you’re willing to pick up a knife or a spoon or a spatula and whip something together. To combine good ingredients and solid techniques to create something greater than the sum of its parts. To be ok with a mistake here and there in the pursuit. I have Andrew Rea to thank for inspiring me to try.
