I’ve discovered the meaning of life!

Now before you start wondering if I’m a genius — no. A girlfriend sent me a video titled The Meaning of Life, I watched it, and now I know. 

The video is of brothers John and Hank Green having a conversation. John, who leans religious and theological, says the meaning of life is to be in relationship with people and pay attention — and we pay attention to the things that interest us.

Hank, who leans more sciencey, says that when complex systems interact with each other, they become more interesting. His example: an ant is interesting, but a colony of ants is more interesting. A cell is interesting, but a colony of cells is more interesting. A person is interesting, but the community they are a part of makes them more interesting. 

(Sidebar: Perhaps this explains why children leaving home creates such an emotional dip for the parents. For 20 years, my children broadened my community. I interacted with the world with and through my children — their interests, needs, and relationships. And then they moved out and my community shrank, which meant I am now less connected and therefore less interesting. Isn’t that interesting?) 

According to Hank, the things that arise from complexity — both the energy that creates that complexity and being part of that complexity — is what’s good about life and makes it meaningful.

Furthermore, people tend to equate “interesting” with “easy to pay attention to.” But ask yourself this: Who is the most interesting person you know?

If you’re like me, you’ll start running through a list of famously interesting people in your head, like Gandhi, Helen Keller, college professors, activists, etc. But here’s the twist: things become more interesting (i.e. better) when you look at them closely. So this means that the most interesting people to me — and to you, probably — are the people we’re closest with. 

So how does all this help when I’m in an existential spiral? 

Well, as John and Hank point out, the opposite of depression is not happiness — it’s “interested.” So when I’m struggling to find meaning, this means (ha) I need to look closer. Dig deeper. Engage more. Connect. Feel. 

Here’s an example. I often get down in the dumps about the self-inspired tedium I’m pushing myself through day in and day out (i.e. my work). I get simultaneously worn down by the drudgery and find myself despairing of the value. Why am I trying so hard? This is pointless. No one actually needs my work — or worse, me. Blah-blah-blah. 

But the fix is always the same: zoom in tight for some up-close concentrated work. Make a new cheese. Set up a photoshoot. Have a zoom call with a client. Most times, attending to the details distracts me long enough to reboot my spiraling brain, and sometimes, if I’m lucky, the work turns delightful and I get an honest-to-goodness dopamine hit. 

In other words, the more often I can dip beneath the surface of Just Existing and actually muck around in the intricacies (like I’m doing right now by writing this post), the richer my life.

That’s it.

In conclusion, John says that because life is worthy of attention, then subjectively speaking, that makes it meaningful. Hank takes it one step further. Since something is always better than nothing, then, objectively speaking, something — and then attending to that something by being connected and curious — is where the meaning’s found. 

This same time, years previous: 2024 garden stats and notes, all is well, the quotidian (12.21.20), rock on, mama!, ludicrous mashed potatoes, 2016 book list, the quotidian (12.21.15), on my to-do list, fa-la-la-la-la.

I know everyone’s in full-on cookie mode — I just jotted down notes for NYT Cooking’s Dark ‘n’ Stormy Molasses cookies — but I’m gonna pause the sugar rush for just a sec to talk about onions. 

This is another Samin Recipe. If that fact, right there, isn’t enough to make you head straight to the kitchen for a knife and cutting board, allow me to convince you. 

I am not a put-onions-in-everything person, but this recipe has turned me into someone who buys several red onions every couple weeks so I can flash process them (they only take ten minutes from grocery bag to jar) into zingy, crunchy, sweet onion goodness. 

sauteed peppers, onions, and tomatoes with scrambled eggs

In other words, these onions live in my fridge. As I type this, my fridge boasts 2 quart jars exploding with riotous magenta glory. 

baked chicken-and-bean burrito with herby cottage cheese and slaw

I add these onions to packed lunch sandwiches (I pat-dry them with a paper towel first so they don’t soggify the bread), sprinkle them over scrambled eggs, and add them to cole slaws and tuna salads, and use them to garnish soups and rice bowls. Quite frankly, it’s pretty darn amazing how much I’ve come to rely on their convenient pop of color and flavor to elevate my meals. 

Oh, and have I mentioned that they are stunningly gorgeous?

sandwich assemby

So here’s my advice: when you find yourself getting headachy from all sugar and butter, go chop some onions and add vinegar. It’ll make you feel better, promise.

Samin’s Pickled Red Onions
Adapted from Samin Nosrat’s new book Good Things. (And if you’re looking for a gift for the food-loving cook in your life, I vote for this one.)

Sometimes I’m short on brine, so I just top off the jar with more vinegar and a sprinkle of salt. Everything that’s listed after the salt is optional (but I include all of it). 

3 large red onions
1 ⅔ cup apple cider vinegar
½ cup water
¼ cup sugar
2 tablespoons salt
1 bay leaf
1 dried hot chile
Pinch of dried oregano
Black peppercorns

Peel onions, slice in half lengthwise, and then thinly slice into half moons. Pack them into glass jars. Combine the rest of the ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Once the sugar and salt have dissolved, pour the liquid over the onions. Let them rest at room temperature until cool and then transfer to the fridge. If you take care to always use a clean utensil to remove them, they will last indefinitely. 

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (12.9.24), butterfingers, currently, 2021 garden stats and notes, 2020 garden stats and notes, the quotidian (12.9.19), when the dress-up ballgown finally fits, yeasted streusel cake with lemon glaze, managing my list habit, okonomiyaki!.

Another question that came up the night we had all our neighbors over was whether or not one leaves cupboards and drawers open while working in the kitchen. 

It was my husband who asked it because I do it and it drives him bonkers. 

(And then he breezes through slamming things shut while I’m working. The audacity.) 

But here’s my defense. I hate the wasted energy and time of repeatedly jerking open doors and drawers. Better to leave them hanging wide for easy access. 

I even occasionally leave my cold pantry — aka the fridge — open for a minute or two at a time if I’m running back and forth from fridge to stove for milk, bacon fat, eggs, cheese, etc, etc.

Once I’ve got the goods, then I close it. 

When my husband asked the question, the response was unanimous: everyone closes up shop as they work. Which I should’ve expected, considering their bed-making and sheet-washing tendencies, but still, I can’t help but think it’s a little silly. It’s hard enough to get yourself into the kitchen to make the food in the first place so why go to the extra trouble of closing up shop while working? Isn’t that like shooting yourself in the foot? 

Which brings me to another kitchen contention: trash.

Specifically: what do you do with the balled-up napkins and empty bags and bits of plastic wrap and tin cans — the cooking detritus one amasses whilst cooking? 

I do what I think is entirely logical: I toss it in the sink along with all the dirty dishes. Then at the end of my mess-creating, I just harvest the trash and shove it where it belongs — which is in the cupboard beneath the sink where the receptacles for recyclables, and the true and burn trashes, are housed.

Because (again) why waste energy repeatedly bending and opening and closing when you can just do it once at the end?

This habit of mine, my husband doth not abide. Which shouldn’t much matter since I’m the one in the kitchen doing the cooking, but when he reports for dishwashing duty before I get to the clean-up stage, I have to swoop in to pick all the bits of trash out of the sink while he stands there and practices deep breathing. 

So here’s your homework. This week, mid cooking marathon, pause for a sec and do a quick scan. Are your cupboards flung wide? Is there trash on the counter? I have a hunch that people might say they run a tight-n-tidy ship but when the shizzle (aka Thanksgiving) hits the fan, the truth comes out. 

Enjoy your turkey.

P.S. The one thing we do agree upon: when pouring/measuring messy things, all storage spaces directly beneath must be closed. No one wants a milk flood in the flour drawer.

This same time, years previous: the struggle, the quotidian (11.28.22), how we homeschool: Jen, the quotidian (11.25.19), the quotidian (11.26.18), Chattanooga Thanksgiving of 2017, in my kitchen: 2:35 a.m., a treat.