Editor’s Note: In this post, first published in September 2019, one writer is exploring what it means if we could reframe our approach to our concerns. daily fear. We hope you find Julie’s words as poignant as we have.
Last spring, three Twin Cities chefs – all women – were announced as finalists for the James Beard Award for Best Chef in the Midwest, a record number . I have never met any of them in person but I know their names, have laughed and danced, cried and fallen in love in their restaurant. Jamie Malone’s Grand Cafe was the first place I ate after a semester abroad, with crispy toast and cod roe and a morning sorting through homesick letters I’d written and never sent. Go. Christina Nguyen’s Hai Hai is so green that even Minnesota winters perish on my doorstep, my favorite Minneapolis happy hour.
After my first raise, I went to dinner at Ann Kim’s Young Joni, at the end of the winter so dismal that I forgot what an appetite is like. Slowly — and then all at once — I was so hungry that it hurt, I ate it over and over and still didn’t feel full, couldn’t decide between appetizers so I ordered them all: a sweet potato Baked until velvety and fried cauliflower caramelized with small golden raisins, blistering sweet corn and cereal salad topped with a perfectly soft-boiled egg.
I have never met any of them in person but I know their names, have laughed and danced, cried and fallen in love in their restaurant.
I watched the James Beard Awards for the first time this year, skipping dinner at work to start the ceremony. When Ann Kim’s name was called, the crowd erupted over the tiny speaker on my phone.
“My journey has not been easy. It is not linear and it is not traditional. She admitted that when she picked up the mic, applause still rang throughout the auditorium. “I stand here because ten years ago I said fear.”
(Yes, of course I was in tears.)
The problem is like this. I have a lot of fears. Most of them are small and low stakes numbers: house centipedes, uncomfortable silences, clowns, accidental answers. Some of them are older: speaking is not enough; talk too much. My own body, sometimes. Frustrating people, all the time.
But then there are the fears that cannot be eliminated, it is so big that it swallows the whole world: plane engines cut, buses hit the divider, accidents, all in all. Schools have too many locks, too many scanners, too many dangers. January is too cold, July is too hot; The fire never stops, the ocean does not calm. What do I do with those?
At the James Beard Culinary School, Beard’s first lesson for culinary students is often this: “The only thing that can make soup hang is if it knows you’re afraid of it.” Or, from his close friend Julia Child: “The only real fear is the fear of failure. In cooking, you must have a goddamn attitude.“
What I got from Beard and Child, from Kim and Malone and Nguyen, was not a dedication to banishing fear. Instead, it is accepting fear as a reminder: of the privilege of action, the space to change paths, the freedom to choose.
What I got from Beard and Child, from Kim and Malone and Nguyen, was not a dedication to banishing fear. Instead, it is accepting fear as a reminder: of the privilege of action, the space to change paths, the freedom to choose.
A few weeks after watching Kim accept her award, I quit. One month later I will give up anotherthe beginning of a glorious summer has been spent learning that fear of letting go is not a good reason to stay.
So, standing here this September in the year of our Lord 2019, entering my mid-twenties, possibly too much caffeine and certainly lack of water, I’m also speaking fear. Bring in the soup.
An incomplete, disorganized, thoroughly committed ten-year plan for a future of which I fear no:
- At home.
- Go out.
- Drive on I-75 again.
- Do long runs in the middle of the night: the kind that make your skin itch, clear your lungs, and explore a city beneath your feet. (It’s possible to turn on location sharing and bring a personal alarm because the fear of the dark doesn’t go away immediately.)
- Become angry; stay angry; Don’t apologize for being angry.
- Don’t apologize for presentGenerally speaking.
- Call a therapist. Call more than one therapist. Make time for all your emotions—You have a lot, and that’s okay!
- Quit (check!).
- Exit another one (double check!).
- Ditch the calorie count of googling.
- Drop a lot of things.
- Say no. A lot of time. To many people. Everyone will be fine.
- Disrupt everyone who tries to explain blockchain to you. You don’t need to explain. I know you don’t know what it is but you don’t really care™ either.
- Say I love you.
- Say goodbye.
- Write.
- Editor. More than you write. To be
a little bitcruel.
Julie was born in Madison, WI, and despite a fleeting affair with New England, she always found her way back to the Midwest. These days, she lives in St. Paul, where she is developing a large book collection, a chosen household, and a new relationship with her hometown. She’s poorly fertilized, has good recipes, is often nervous, and doesn’t use social media.
