To my people,
Don’t you hate when someone says something so obvious you can’t believe you never thought of it before?
That happened to me in Central Park, of all places. A place so epic that conversations somehow feel easier there. You can walk side by side without the pressure of eye contact because there’s simply too much to see — dogs sprinting past, kids on scooters, tourists pointing at trees like they’re monuments.
And that’s when he said it.
“Steph, why do you keep saying you’re trying to make New York work? You’re going to have to make it work anywhere.”
I stopped walking for a second because it landed harder than I expected. I’ve been framing this whole chapter like it’s a New York problem. Like the city itself is the puzzle I’m trying to solve. But the truth is, wherever I go, I’m still showing up as me. Same brain, same habits, same questions about what the hell I’m doing next.
New York isn’t the test.
I am.
And suddenly the whole thing felt both heavier and strangely simpler.
On that light note…
Love,
Stephanie and Bunny
To paint the picture: I’m sitting in my bed, cross-legged, with a fluffy pup attached to my hip like a barnacle. Music is on. The room is quiet. And for the first time in a little while, I actually feel like writing.
Maybe it was the framing of that conversation in Central Park. Or maybe it was the other things that got said on that walk — the little comments that lodge themselves in your brain and give you something to chew on for a few days.
Because if I’m being honest, the past two weeks have been mental purgatory. The real depths of the shit bucket. Nothing felt pleasurable. Every task — even the small ones — felt like climbing the proverbial mountain in flip-flops. It made me wonder: have I forgotten how to do things simply for the joy of doing them?
When I first started this Substack, I was hyper-focused. It felt electric. The ideas were easy and the writing felt like opening a valve. But as time has gone on and life has ebbed and shifted, something changed. Writing slowly started to feel like… an obligation.
And if there’s one thing about me, give me an obligation and I will show you exactly how to suck every ounce of fun out of it.
The funny thing is, I do love to write. But even more than that, I love the strange little thread of connection that comes from sending these out. It’s not like my inbox explodes with responses every time. Most of the time it doesn’t. But there’s something comforting about this quiet little chain of emails that ties us together for a moment. I forgot how much I liked that feeling.
Right now the words are pouring out because I made this enjoyable again. No pressure. No performance. Just… sitting here, dog glued to my hip, music playing, letting the thoughts land where they land.
And it makes me wonder how much of the rest of my life could feel different if I approached it the same way.
Did I just accidentally unlock a secret, or is this just a good Thursday?
I gave myself what I’ll call light food poisoning after eating already-discounted sushi a day and a half later. Thinking about it now makes my stomach flip. I wouldn’t classify it as full-blown food poisoning, but certain things occurred that were both unfortunate and very poorly timed.
When my stomach is doing its weird thing, I don’t get hungry. Instead, I become completely obsessed with one hyper-specific food. This time it’s gumbo. I have watched over twenty hours of gumbo videos. I’ve collected photos, studied roux colors, compared regional styles. It’s gotten to the point where my entire “For You” page is basically New Orleans content.
Which, frankly, I’m not mad about. From what I remember of my time there 12 or 13 years ago, I loved everything about New Orleans. It’s the only other city besides New York that I’ve ever thought I could live in. There’s water, incredible food, and people who are funny, chaotic, and deeply kind. The houses look like little cupcakes and the hospitality is unmatched.
Anyways, I digress. The problem is that I’m currently very into gumbo despite having eaten exactly one version in my life: Padma’s Indian-inspired chicken gumbo.
I was in New Orleans during Season 11 of Top Chef, and at the time I truly had no idea what was going on. It was my first season and it felt like summer camp. I was along for the ride—nervous as hell but also incredibly naive in a kind of charming way.
At the time of filming, I was very allergic to shellfish. That allergy still exists… as do I, continuing to ignore it and occasionally making myself violently ill. Because of it, I missed a lot of eating opportunities that season. Which feels especially tragic now that I’m deep in a gumbo fixation.
So all this being said, what exactly is the opportunity I need to make gumbo? At this point I know the only way I’m moving on to the next thing is if I get this dish out of my head and onto a stove.
My dear friend Charlotte has been in the hospital for a week now (she’s such a baddie but please send good vibes her way). My friend Arielle is overdue for a home-cooked meal. Maybe Wyatt would want to swing by and grab some. Suddenly this feels like a real enough reason.
I could make a big pot of white rice. Gumbo, obviously. It needs something else to round out the meal though. Biscuits? Does my oven even bake? Biscuits would be bomb.
Holy shit. I think I’m actually doing this.
Here are the loose recipes I’m planning on following. And yes, I will absolutely be using a rice cooker. I still can’t cook rice on the stove. It’s humiliating, frankly. Something about it feels so simple that every time I mess it up it feels like a personal attack.
Emeril’s Seafood Gumbo
1/4 cup chopped parsley
1 bunch green onions, chopped
1 cup butter
1 cup flour
2 onions, chopped
2 ribs celery, finely chopped
1/2 green bell pepper, finely chopped
6 cloves garlic, minced
3 bay leaves
2 quarts shrimp or seafood stock
4 blue crabs, halved
1 pound raw shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 pound fish fillets, such as redfish or another firm-fleshed fish, cut into pieces
In a large, heavy saucepan or dutch oven melt butter and whisk in flour until smooth. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until roux is a peanut butter color, about 20 minutes.
Immediately add onions, celery, bell pepper, garlic, and bay leaves and cook until vegetables are very soft, about 8 minutes. Add stock and whisk to combine. Bring to a boil, skim surface, and reduce heat to a simmer. Add crabs and cook for 1 1/2 hours, until thickened and flavorful. If gumbo seems too thick, thin with water or seafood stock.
Add shrimp and fish and cook for 5 to 7 minutes, or until shrimp turn pink and fish is cooked through. Add oysters (with their liquor), parsley, and green onions, and cook until edges of oysters curl, about 5 to7 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning, if necessary, and serve in large bowls over hot white rice.
Ina Gartens Buttermilk Cheddar Biscuits
2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more as needed
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, diced
1/2 cup cold buttermilk, shaken
1 cold extra-large egg
1 cup grated extra-sharp Cheddar
1 egg, beaten with 1 tablespoon water or milk
Maldon sea salt, optional
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.
Place 2 cups of flour, the baking powder, and salt in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. With the mixer on low, add the butter and mix until the butter is the size of peas.
Combine the buttermilk and egg in a small measuring cup and beat lightly with a fork. With the mixer still on low, quickly add the buttermilk mixture to the flour mixture and mix only until moistened. In a small bowl, mix the Cheddar with small handful of flour and, with the mixer still on low, add the cheese to the dough. Mix only until roughly combined.
Dump out onto a well-floured board and knead lightly about 6 times. Roll the dough out to a rectangle 10 by 5 inches. With a sharp, floured knife, cut the dough lengthwise in half and then across in quarters, making 8 rough rectangles. Transfer to a sheet pan lined with parchment paper. Brush the tops with the egg wash, sprinkle with salt, if using, and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, until the tops are browned and the biscuits are cooked through. Serve hot or warm.
Hey Mom’s Friends,
Thank the lord the weather is getting nicer. Mom is moving, and—lucky me—she’s bringing me with her. It all started with a phone call from her friend, and fellow dog enthusiast, Bobby. Mom had been deep in the trenches of doom-scrolling and staring at the wall when Bobby said, very plainly, “Get the fuck outside.” Great news for me—I got to tag along.
Now, I don’t pretend to understand everything about humans, but I do know this: when Mom goes outside, things tend to get a little better. There are smells to investigate, sidewalks to patrol, and occasionally a stranger who simply must admire me. Fresh air seems to loosen whatever knot forms in her brain when she’s been inside too long. Personally, I think a brisk walk and a good sniff session should be prescribed by doctors.
With the weather turning and boxes starting to appear around the apartment, I’ve gathered that we’re heading into one of those “new chapter” situations. I’m feeling optimistic. New neighborhood means new fire hydrants, new squirrels to study, and possibly new friends who will tell me I’m beautiful. Mom seems a little overwhelmed, but I plan to supervise the entire process very closely. It’s what I do best.
In the meantime, I’ll keep her moving. Walks, fresh air, maybe a little sunshine on our faces. Change can be a lot for a human, but luckily Mom has me—her emotional support supervisor, professional companion, and part-time crumb vacuum.
All is well on the Bunny front. Tail wagging. Nose working. Mom improving.
Love,
Bunny
Holy shit this makes me feel a certain way!
My lovelies,
Thank you for reading. Per usual, i feel lighter and I hope you do too.
All our love,
Steph and Bunny
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.