At work, I mostly live in a bubble that I created for myself but sometimes I come across a reminder of how much my university despises research, publications, books, and everything that constitutes the life of the mind. It shouldn’t bother me too much but it does. What we do is such a farce.
To extract myself from the dumps into which this sad state of affairs plunged me, I made a bean and fish stew. I don’t use canned beans because the whole point of a bean is building a broth. There’s no reason to eat beans if there’s no broth.
Carrots, coriander chutney, a cinnamon stick, a large onion (added whole and then removed because you know why), some juniper berries, a bay leaf. A large batch of fresh spinach at the end. It didn’t really need the fish but N doesn’t like vegan, so I added something called “Vietnamese snapper” that had a shockingly attractive price at the store.
I spent so much time nursing this broth as a way of providing psychological help to myself that when the stew was done it was too late to eat. I do feel better, though, and the dish will be good for lunch tomorrow.
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