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![]() ![]() But interesting ingredients were hard to come by in this small, Western college town, and I pined for New York’s vibrant culinary scene and for my days roaming the world as an itinerant art writer. Missoula, where I landed in August 2020, offered mountains, fresh air, and a new community. Within months, cooking had become the most stable element in my chaotic life. Meanwhile, I prepared for a major move to Missoula, Montana, where I planned to attend graduate school. ![]() We broke up, I moved back into my apartment, cooked for one. I moved in with a partner, cooked for two. Along with so many others, I began cooking, trying to find lightness and some semblance of control as uncertainty, loss, and fears of illness dominated life in lockdown. ![]() My attitude changed once restaurants closed and grocery trips began to feel treacherous. So many other demands on my time-getting drinks with friends and colleagues, attending work-related events, going on dates-felt more important than spending hours in my windowless, cockroach nest of a Brooklyn kitchen, making food that probably wouldn’t be as good as whatever I could purchase just down the street. ![]()
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