pasta
It's no surprise that there's science backing nostalgic smells, but if you ask me, nostalgic tastes are just as real. Home Run Inn frozen pizza meant sleepovers at my best friends house. Minute Maid Frozen Lemonade cups were exclusively eaten at Detroit Pistons games. Of course stuffing was for crisp Michigan Thanksgivings and chocolate chip cookies were for Friday night dinners. But when I think of Rosh Hashanah, my mind immediately goes to my mom's delectable cinnamon noodle kugel.
Sometimes I like to cook lavish meals for friends - I'll spend hours in the kitchen making multiple courses with ingredients I definitely spent too much money on. I'll experiment with flavors and try new things, and feel like a total mad kitchen scientist.
Other times, I truly cannot be bothered.
Sometimes Shabbat dinner ends up being sushi or pizza delivered by very nice Seamless people. Other times, we pull an Olivia Pope and eat popcorn and have a bottle of wine each. These meals are eaten in leggings, sweatpants and amorphous sweaters. It is actually frowned upon to show up to a meal like this wearing pants with a button or zipper.
How many of you are watching (or have already finished) The Handmaid's Tale?
It's excellent, but very troubling to watch. Even though I've devoured the book twice in my lifetime, the TV version shook me deeply. I'll be the first to admit that I'm a baby when it comes to dark TV shows and movies. When I saw Get Out I half-covered my eyes with my jacket during any scene that maybe contained a jump-scare. I freaking hate jump scares.
Yesterday, I accidentally got sucked into reading about cults.
Yes, I know, the irony kills me too, but honestly reading about cults is just a deep dark hole on the Internet. And while I have no plans to join a cult any time soon, The New York Times and New York Magazine instilled a fear in me so real, I think I’ll be avoiding Kool-Aid and self-help anything for the rest of my life.