Week Nine

Above: Yesterday evening’s sky above the Pink Cottage

Slightly different update this week! The Covid rates in Ireland have skyrocketed, and there’s been an outbreak at Ballymaloe, so the atmosphere has understandably shifted here. Yesterday, the administration decided to shut down in-person school until Monday, at which point they’ll reassess the situation. As of now, the Pink Cottage has no positive cases, and we’re praying things stay that way. We’re all being as cautious as we can: avoiding contact with other cottages and wearing masks in all indoor areas — even at home when we’re not in our bedrooms. It’s unsettling to transition from whole-hearted togetherness to chilly distance in a matter of hours, but I have to keep reminding myself that we’re separating to keep each other safe. The intensity of this moment will pass—that I know for sure—but I’m still grappling with the disappointment of missing opportunities, both social and educational, at Ballymaloe. Even if we only need to close until Monday (which seems unlikely), these twelve weeks feel so precious to me that it stings to miss a single breath. Our teachers are live-streaming lectures, which I’m grateful for despite the fact that it feels eerily like my last year and a half at Barnard.

John Englander, a dear family friend, sent me the kindest email last weekend, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot throughout the week. To paraphrase, he talked about how experiencing one’s joy and power sets the foundation for the inevitable rocky times ahead, and I’ve found that I’m already recognizing that truth. It hasn’t been an easy week for my brain, but I’m so much more capable of handling the mental turmoil these days. I’m feeding myself consistently and kindly (not always the easiest feat for me when my anxiety spikes), spending as much time outdoors as I can, sleeping enough, reading, talking on the phone regularly with my family/friends/boyfriend, processing with my women here, and getting through it. And of course the week hasn’t been all bad. For example, on Tuesday, Rory delivered ingredients to me and Angie (we were the first two to isolate because of an interaction with an early positive case) so that we could cook Marcella Hazan’s Lasagne Bolognese. We had a grand time in spite of everything, dancing in our ratty sleep shirts to Kehlani and Yebba while melting soffritto into butter and olive oil for ragù. When we were done cooking, we wrapped ourselves in scarves and sweaters and sat outside to eat with a friend. We all agreed: there’s nothing more comforting on a cold day than a slab of bubbling golden lasagna. This particular recipe transported me to a restaurant I ate at in Bologna with my friend Daniela in Fall 2019. We stopped there on our walk through the famous Bolognese arches leading to the Santuario della Madonna di San Luca, a hilltop church just outside of the city’s historical center. I don’t remember anything else except that I ordered a piece of classic Bolognese lasagna and that it was, unbeknownst to me, exactly what I needed to eat.

Above: The Lasagne Bolognese of my dreams!

As badly as I wish we didn’t have to press pause, there’s something to be said for slowing down. I’ve been able to study for the final exam at my own pace, read more throughout the day, and, when I’m feeling static, dream about the life that awaits me in New York. I’m THRILLED that I’m finally at the stage of my life where I can reasonably collect dishes and glasses and all sorts of kitchen appliances, so I’ve been doing a lot of research for that. Do you have any product recommendations? Are you trying to get rid of anything kitchen-related that I might find useful?! I’ve had an unboxed food processor sitting in my bedroom at home for months, its blade just waiting to pirouette. To state the obvious, I love to cook. I actually get giddy at the thought that I get to cook for the rest of my life. If that doesn’t prove that I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, I’m not sure what would.

Anyway, life is cyclical, not linear (thank you, Katherine May, for that thought), and we’re at a low point here at Ballymaloe that will undoubtedly resolve. I’m thinking of everyone with Covid and hoping they’re hanging in there.

Love,

Phoebs