ratatouille

one of the most prominent emotions during the coronavirus closures has been frustration. I noticed it in myself when someone cut me in the grocery line and pretended that he had not seen me. he was larger and definitely stronger than me, rude to the grocery store employees, and not wearing a mask: all signs that I should just let it slide and not engage. but the adjustment to the new normal, the constant mask-wearing in the increasingly humid philly heat, the vigilant hand-washing, the waiting in lines to enter grocery stores, and the perpetual motion of adjusting oneself to be as socially distant from other humans in enclosed spaces as possible had worn me down, and I snapped on him.

I’ve noticed frustration in others – in the people who refuse to stand six feet apart anymore and who get hostile when asked to comply. in the mothers wringing their hands about allowing their socially starved children to play together in the park, but not emotionally able to explain again to their tearful, uncomprehending toddler or child why they cannot see their friends. in the homeless people who relied on shelters, food banks, and community kitchens for safety and sustenance, only to have that resource diminished to one-fifth of its capacity (some only serving 20 people a day), who trudge down the highway to take shelter in the closed international terminal at the airport.

so when the peaceful protests in philadelphia over george floyd, and breonna taylor, and ahmaud arbery, and christian cooper (but also oscar grant, and trayvon martin, and eric garner, and freddie gray, and all the black americans who have died unnecessarily at the hands of police or vigilante justice) devolved into fiery riots and looting that saw local businesses vandalized and robbed, I understood the underlying emotions. the frustration about being confined indoors for months. the fear about having to work as an essential worker in unsafe conditions and about overall safety in an increasingly unstable world. the anger at unnecessary death from abuse of power and excessive violence when so many are already dying from an invisible airborne illness. the resentment of increasing wealth disparity in a society that cannot seem to shake prejudgment of people based on the color of their skin.

but despite hearing and understanding the motivations, I must admit it still broke my heart to see a grand piano lying upturned and smashed in the street outside jacobs music. to hear that one of our school families, albanians who came over with nothing but a dream to operate an italian restaurant, took a brick through the window during the riots. to know that the protests had started peacefully, and that outside forces had taken advantage of people’s outpouring of suffering and support to wage violence and chaos on a city already on its knees from the coronavirus closures.

I used to hope for a return to normalcy, but it seems increasingly unlikely that life will look the same when we come out on the other side of the protests and the months of quarantine. it seems that some changes will be positive – that the push against police brutality and support for the black community will finally lead to something good – but on the other hand, our country and others seem to be heading into financial depression and in general, the world seems a bit more unstable everyday. at times like these, I and others I know have been leaning on the things that bring them comfort. this version of ratatouille as presented in my favorite pixar film, “ratatouille”, is a riff on a classic french provençal stew and my mom’s favorite dish that I make.

makes one 9-in round pan