Going home

+ Small Business Saturday 40% off special

A few days ago, the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I decided to drive into Brooklyn to cure a bout of homesickness. I knew traffic would be heavy given the time of year, yet was still surprised the usual two and a half hour drive took almost four hours.

I’ve never really traveled during Thanksgiving. For the first almost 40 years of my life, holidays revolved around Brooklyn. Any traffic encountered was foot traffic walking the few blocks to Caputo’s Bakery, or waiting in line at Court Pastry. No Thanksgiving feast was complete without an apple pie, coconut custard pie, cannolis & rum baba.

Since I had a 6 a.m. call on Tuesday morning, I knew I could end my work day early, around 2pm. I figured I could be in the car by 2:30, and in Carroll Gardens by 5:30pm, factoring in just 30 minutes of traffic.

Well, 2:30 became 3:15 p.m. It took a bit longer to tie up loose ends at work, and I wanted to fit in a quick workout before leaving. It never occurred to me I’d be driving white-knuckled to make it to Caputo’s Bakery before they closed at 7pm. I’d been in touch with the gals behind the counter a few times with time updates, assuring them I’d be there, and to please not give my bread away.

I pulled up in front of the bakery with seconds to spare before closing, becoming the proud owner of four loaves of prosciutto bread, and two loaves of Italian bread. One of those plain loaves was destined to become Thanksgiving stuffing, The other was a spare for the freezer.

Once back in the car, I promptly tore off the end of one prosciutto bread loaf, closed my eyes, and could hear the chatter of Thanksgivings past. The clink of glasses, laughter, platters shuffling from person to person—the faces of people I love dearly, but now long gone, came to life again for the briefest of moments.

That’s the power of food. It’s a sort of time travel. Going home may not be possible when the houses or apartments have been sold or knocked down, or when home is a person no longer living. But somewhere deep down, buried amidst the grief are memories that can be brought back to life with a nibble on a nub of bread. —xo, j.

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I’m incredibly thankful for all of you. Some have been reading my work, and cooking my recipes for 15+ years. Others are newcomers. Regardless of how long you’ve been here, I’m honored you choose to let me into your lives. Being a writer is a kind of small business, and a hard one at that in an increasingly busy sea of voices.

If you’re a free subscriber who’s been hoping to upgrade to paid, I’m offering a special Small Business Saturday promotion for 40% off all subscriptions forever. It’s valid on both monthly and annual plans, so you’ve can choose between just $2 per month, or $18 for an entire year. You can even use this promotion to give a subscription as a gift this holiday season.