✰ Listen to this post ✰
I’ve spent this morning doing one of my favorite things — reading about food. Particularly, the tragic denunciation of anchovies and the many weird iterations of the Caesar salad. I’m writing on this topic today because I think it’s important to tend to our non-sexual pleasures; indulge in those other sensual delights; celebrate those things we do for the sake of themselves, meaning, for pure joy and not for some capitalistic, aesthetic, or biohacking gain; things that anchor us into the giddiness of the present moment. Mine is reading about food and watching the latest NY Times Cooking video on YouTube. What’s yours? I would love to read in the comments below.
Perhaps to your chagrin, I have a love for anchovies and most tinned fish. I love them for their briny, salty, umami-ness but also the nostalgia that surrounds them. Anchovies remind me of living in Italy, where my host mother Ortensia taught me about the many uses of this culinary touchstone.
Anchovies were essentialized in her cooking. They were the base for all of her sauces and most of her dips. I’d stand by her side in the kitchen as she first drizzled olive oil in a pan, then pinched and pulled each anchovy from their tin with the tips of her acrylic nails. I’d lower my head towards the tin to get a closer look at all those tiny, hair-like bones protruding from their filleted bodies. She’d drape each one carefully over the sizzling oil and their tender bodies would bounce emphatically upon contact.
Pazienza, she’d whisper, as if the fish might hear her, waiting a moment before pressing the back of her wooden spoon into their softened bodies. I was always amazed at how easily they melted, how something so common, a forager, could turn into something so sumptuous under the touch of heat and oil. All of those tiny, tender bones dissolving, releasing their enigmatic flavors in the process.
Anchovies remind me of living in Spain and eating boquerones, or fresh anchovies (meaning, they actually look like fish).
Strolling down the boardwalk in Malaga, a beach town in southern Spain, you walk by giant grill after grill, crowded with fresh anchovies, sometimes whole lemon halves nestled in between all of them. You eat them simply, on their own or maybe in a shallow bath of olive oil and juice from those grilled lemon halves. They’re typically served with una caña (a small glass of beer). In Europe, anchovies are customary, a frequent part of cooking, a staple in the culinary landscape. Here, in the United States, they are more divisive, reserved for a special kind of palate.
I’ve been to restaurants where the Caesar salad is devoid of anchovies, and therefore, that subtle, pervasive (and IMO necessary) umami essence. I kind of understand the fear. Anchovies that come from a tin are these nondescript, skinned bodies that don’t really resemble fish? I guess that’s how we mostly consume fish, but still, it feels different with anchovies. Maybe because they’re so tiny? Does the fear come from not being able to figure them out?
I love a whole grilled fish, whether it’s a tiny anchovy or a big ol’ branzino. In Thailand, I gorged myself on whole grilled fish served with a side of some sweet, tamarind-infused sauce. To eat fish that way, simply and in its whole form, is a true pleasure. And though that experience feels more rare in my home country, the act of reminiscing can evoke that pleasure all over again, and in different ways.
📖 Sex Ed Book Club 📖
Our current book for book club is Ace by Angela Chen. I’m so excited to discuss the nuances of asexuality and how it can expand our ideas of intimacy, desire, and attraction. There’s so much to learn from the ACE framework, whether you identify as asexual or not. I hope you can join us for our next in-person meeting in Burlington this Thursday, April 25th at 6pm est.
To register, send me a $10 donation (Venmo: @sarahdiedrick) and leave your email. I will email you with the location and any other details. If you don’t have Venmo, reply to this email so we can figure out another way ✰
If you don’t have time to read much of the book but still want to prepare and participate in the discussion, here is an interview with the author:
🌳 Off the ‘gram 🌳
I’m officially off Instagram for the foreseeable future — here’s my little farewell post. I’m taking this time to pour energy into my writing and prioritize my health through rest, nature bathing, and nourishing relationships.
Instagram was a big outlet for my small biz and a space to share education, events, and more. For that reason, it feels like a risk to step off but I know, deep down, that it’s the right move for my overall wellness right now.
I’m excited for my newsletter to be my main source of sharing because it has always felt like a safe & sacred space for me. Thank you for being here and letting this live and breathe in such a special way. One of the best ways you can support this transition is to share my newsletter with just *one* friend/invite someone to subscribe. THANK YOU for being here and contributing to this safe space ♡︎
I've never opened an email so fast. I LOVE anchovies :)