By March, barely. The crocuses are up in the courtyard boxes and the light is starting to come back in that particular Seattle way — not warmth yet, just the suggestion that warmth is possible. I find myself noticing things I didn't notice in February: the crow on the fire escape, the way James hums when he's doing dishes, the fact that the rice I cooked on Wednesday was slightly undersalted and nobody cared.
James made Taiwanese beef noodle soup on Saturday — the good kind, where he simmers the broth for five hours with star anise and rock sugar and gets annoyed at me for lifting the lid. I sat at the counter chopping scallions and watched him work and tried to memorize the way he moves in a kitchen. Intuitive. He tastes, adjusts, tastes again, never writes anything down. I am the opposite — measuring, timing, notating in a leather notebook Karen gave me for my twenty-fifth birthday that is now half-full of Korean recipes in my small engineer's handwriting. James says our cooking styles look nothing alike. I say that is why our food tastes good together. The contrast is the point.
Work: still on the ambiguity problem. I shipped a partial fix on Thursday and my tech lead, Priya, pulled me into a one-on-one and said, "Have you thought about going up for Senior?" I have been at Amazon five years this June. I said I would think about it. I am thinking about it. I am also thinking that I do not know how to want career things right now when I am waiting for an email from a database in Seoul.
Karen called on Wednesday. She has been reading a novel about a woman who finds out in her fifties that her mother was not her biological mother and Karen said, carefully, "It's a good book but I keep thinking about you." She did not ask about the search. I have not told her. I don't know when I will. She said, "I love you, Steph," and I said, "I love you too, Mom," and we both meant every word and neither of us said any of the rest of it. That will come. Not yet.
Dr. Yoon this week: we talked about Kevin. How his path and mine have diverged — he has chosen not to search, and I have chosen to. Dr. Yoon said that two adoptees from the same family making opposite choices is not unusual. She said, "His peace is different from yours. Both are real." I sent Kevin a picture of a kimchi jar I had just jarred. He sent back a picture of a roast of Ethiopian Yirgacheffe. Our love language is photographs of fermented things.
The recipe this week is plain steamed rice — nothing fancier than that. James and I ate it on Monday after a long day, with a fried egg on top and a drizzle of sesame oil and a little kimchi on the side. Gyeran bap. The simplest thing in the world. The kind of meal that reminds me that most of life is not milestones and reunions. Most of life is Monday night, rice in a bowl, the person you love reading next to you on the couch. I want to remember that when the milestone finally comes.
I said the recipe this week is plain steamed rice, and it is — but when I went to write it down, I realized what I actually wanted to share was the spirit of it: the plain, buttery, uncomplicated thing you make when the day has already given everything it has. Amish noodles are that for me when the rice pot is already soaking in the sink. They come together in the time it takes James to finish the dishes, they ask nothing of you, and they taste, somehow, like being taken care of — which is exactly what Monday night called for.
Amish Noodles
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 12 oz wide egg noodles
- 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces
- 1 can (10.5 oz) condensed chicken broth (or 1 1/3 cups chicken stock)
- 1 1/2 cups water
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/4 teaspoon onion powder
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- Fresh parsley, chopped, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Combine liquids. In a medium saucepan or deep skillet, combine the chicken broth and water over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil.
- Add noodles. Stir in the egg noodles, garlic powder, and onion powder. Reduce heat to medium and cook uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 10–12 minutes until the noodles are tender and most of the liquid has been absorbed.
- Finish with butter. Remove from heat. Add the butter pieces and stir gently until fully melted and the noodles are glossy and coated. Season with salt and black pepper to taste.
- Serve. Spoon into bowls and top with chopped fresh parsley if using. Eat on the couch next to someone you love.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 380 | Protein: 11g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 55g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 480mg