Optimism (and Pizza)
Hi,
Making pizza is chaos, an unmitigated failure. It is somehow simultaneously burnt and undercooked. It is impossible to get on the peel. It is also impossible to get off the peel. It certainly isn't going on Instagram.
Until the pizza, the past few months of cooking experimentation have been nonstop hits, a parade of successes. I was riding high and feeling confident. A true queen of the culinary arts. Then came pizza. After watching (no exaggeration) 5 hours of Bon Appétit Making Perfect videos on pizza, buying the pizza bible, and ordering all sorts of special flour from a fancy heirloom grain place in South Carolina (this is a recommendation I may never live down), I thought was ready. Hell, I even got a digital scale. If I was going to do this, it was going to be precise. Sure, there would be room for improvement. But it would be a solid start.
The wheels fell off quickly. I forgot everything all at once – the preparation, the videos, the text advice from friends. All of it out the window. I had no idea what I was doing. The best-laid plans, etc, etc. This looked a lot easier on YouTube. I was exhausted.
The pizza didn't fully defeat me, but I wouldn't say I defeated it either.
I am not coming out of this an expert pizza maker. Or a better runner. Or a bendier yogi. Or a more consistent writer (as in...it's been weeks since I sent one of these newsletters). There's a long list of things I am not mastering right now.
But I am practicing all of it because the only way through is through. While my purchasing history (chronicled above) might tell you otherwise, my biggest goal isn't the pizza. My biggest goal is optimism. Optimism is my other pizza.
I study optimistic people. Over the past few weeks, I've been lucky to be able to ask women like Domique Crenn, Helena Price Hambrect, and Jen Gotch (whose new book has a whole chapter on cultivating optimism) how they do it. It sounds simple when they talk about it — positivity combined with grit. A little bit of nature, a lot of intentional work. I take notes. So what comes first, optimism or success? I feel like I am failing at the whole thing, which in turn makes me less...optimistic. This sounds a lot easier than it is.
A tiny breakthrough happened as I fought through a windy walk on Ocean Beach listening to Elizabeth Gilbert on Tim Ferriss. Somewhere in the middle of the interview, as I drift in and out of paying attention she says something that sticks. Something about remaining interested in the future. And I have a momemt. Optimism doesn't have to look the same for all of us. Optimism can be whatever feels optimistic to you.
The truest, most optimistic thing I know right now: I am very interested in seeing what happens next.
When the world shows up to break your heart, optimism doesn't have to mean thinking that everything will turn out well. Optimism can simply mean remaining curious about the process. We don't have to believe that we can live through the impossible, because we will show ourselves that we can. We feel like we can't and then we do, again and again. And as we live through this particular hard thing full of terrible news, we are present with all the feelings. It's a roller coaster in the pitch black with our eyes closed. (It's Space Mountain.)
When things feel the darkest, I nudge myself back into curiosity. I repeat it to myself. I am very interested in seeing what happens next. I am very interested in seeing what happens next. It's a wordy mantra, but it's working for me because I believe it. I don't believe myself when I try to be optimistic for the sake of it. But I know when I'm telling myself the truth (we all know this, deep down) and I know this much is true. I am holding tight to that.
I want to see the next chapter. I want to see it with you, all of you. That kind of optimism feels pretty damn good to me.
As for pizza, I'll keep practicing that too. There's nowhere to go but up.
I hope to see you soon. You're doing great.
xo,
Molly
Permission Granted
One more pizza thing. "Borrowing" this pizza oven from The Assembly (we miss pizza night too!) stepped it all up a notch. It wasn't the oven's fault. Oven is good.
Cloud socks are just as lovely as they sound. I've been so impressed with how Aurora James has evolved her brand Brother Vellies through all of this — when the moment isn't calling for luxury shoes, make feet happy with soft socks. I also signed up for their new curated subscription service Something Special.
It's spritz season and I have been thoroughly enjoying these juicy apéritifs from Mommenpop. Get on that d'Pampe train. Mix it with some sparkling water (whatever flavor) and call it a day.
Reading: All Adults Here by Emma Staub
Watching: Never Have I Ever (teen shows 4-ever) on Netflix
Listening: Winds of Change, which is an almost-satisfying podcast (how's that for an honest review?)
Shorter reading: Fuck the bread. The bread is over. I read this after the pizza thing. Seems like we're all in the same place, no?
Making: new salad dressings. This chipotle one makes any regular salad feel like a fancy one. Put the following into a food processer: honey, lemon (or lime or whatever citrus), avocado oil (or olive oil), red wine vinegar, chipotle powder (or actual chipotle peppers or other peppers), salt, pepper. I dont know, about tablespoons of all those things, but more of the oil. Whir it up. Taste. Adjust.
Take a break from brain churning. That's it. Do whatever makes you happy. A lot of the time for me that looks like eating cereal while not staring at my phone. I meant what I said before, you're doing great.