A mixture of kosher salt and Tajín on the rim makes me feel like I’m on one of those vacations we missed. If you can make it happen, fresh lime juice is my favorite part. We’ve adjusted formulas a few times over the years but it was all in service of this, our forever margarita: tart but balanced, just barely sweet. In the background of this, this provided many, many excuses to finetune our house margarita. Pretty much the only thing I craved for the first six months of “quar” was tacos, usually vegetable because everything felt so heavy, I wanted food that felt light - black bean, cauliflower, sweet potato, heaped with avocado and crunchy slaws. Is it still luck if it happens while you’re inspecting cabbages, hoping to find an apartment-sized one? At the end of one yesterday, I swung by the grocery store to get ingredients for crisp black bean tacos and because I cannot make this up, you must believe me: a bird pooped on me in the store. It’s also been delightfully almost spring-like in NYC after a consistently wintery winter and I haven’t been able to stay inside, inventing as many reasons as I can come up with for taking walks, which is bad for productivity but doing wonders to counteract all of those heavy moods. I remember saying things like “these masks are really expensive but they’re all that’s available, should I buy them?” (yes, Deb, and also some flour) and “they can’t cancel school, can they?” and “we can still plan a summer vacation because things should normalize by then, right?” and I’m sure I’m not alone in these one year-ago reminders throwing me for a big emo loop. This week many of us are coming up on the anniversary of all sorts of things we had little idea would define the year ahead.
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