2-in-1 International Recipe Collection: Royal Kir (1977)

“I hate my new job,” I said yesterday to Mr. Sauce, Esq.

Explanation: at the very beginning of March I left my company of 10 years and started a new position at a high school. Well, two weeks into my new gig the virus happened. School building closed indefinitely. 

So I hate my new job because I don’t know what it actually is like. I was there for all of a  hot second. I know no one. I know nothing. I wasn’t there long enough to even form an opinion about it. I feel just kind of…adrift.

I posted this on Facebook yesterday:

And subsequently a friend of mine blasted me for it:

Honestly – If people are lucky enough to have an employer that allows them to do their job from home and continue to receive a regular paycheck, I think they should shut the fuck up and stop crying about it. Many people are moneyless and they are truely “at home during a crisis trying to SURVIVE” Just saying.

Yes, I, and many others, are uber-fortunate to have jobs, but still, people are doing these jobs during a literal crisis. I think the tweet is about expectations. Some employers still want you to be as productive as you would when the world is not falling down around you. But you won’t be. You can’t be. You are trying.

Don’t think I don’t I recognize how privileged I am (honestly the biggest thing I’m battling right now is carpal tunnel and horrible lumbar support) but what about mothers and fathers who are expected to be glued their their phones all day although they’re trying to simultaneously home school their children? Or maybe you have a job but your spouse doesn’t. Yeah, there’s one paycheck, but that doesn’t mean that those people aren’t in a financially precarious situation and are kinda fucked. What if you have a loved one who is sick?  You might not get those 40 hours a week in. Or what if you struggle with mental illness? Times like these exacerbate depression and anxiety. Especially if someone is alone. Those deadlines just might not be met when you can’t really function. And then you lose that cushy at home gig.

It reminds me of 9/11. I moved from Pittsburgh to Boston for graduate school a week before it happened. And it happened. And I knew no one. I knew nothing. I wasn’t there long enough to form an opinion of it. Those planes flew out of Logan airport and we were supposed to act as though we weren’t in the middle of a crisis. Classes weren’t cancelled on September 11. Or the next day. Or ever. The fucking GAP in Kenmore Square even shut down. A hastily made sign hung on the door: “closed due to national tragedy.” Yet us students were still expected to go to class and carry on with school work like nothing even happened.

Yeah, so I hated graduate school and for this brief moment, I hate my job.

Let’s have a fucking cocktail, shall we?

I once again cracked open the bottle of Creme de Cassis and made a Kir Royale.

It was recommended to me by DiS1972 readers Marty and Mary.

In addition to the recipe above, I was going through my cookbooks to find some anchovy recipes and came across the “Apertif” chapter (written by James Beard–I wonder if it’s James Beard James Beard) in the Woman’s Day Encyclopedia of Cookery Vol. 1.