In the days of lore and legend that precede my employment, Medium operated under the decentralized organizational philosophy of holocracy. Though leadership has long since shifted to a more hierarchical structure, vestiges of holocracy lurk in unexpected places.
One such remnant is iOS tactical, a (bi)weekly gathering of iOS engineers (for more details, jump to “What’s in a tactical?”). Despite its arcane origins, tactical is by no means obsolete: it remains instrumental to building and maintaining a high-quality app, codebase, and developer experience. …
i recently wrote about realizing that my pando-fueled efficiency kick isn’t as rosy as i’d reckoned. my best efforts to streamline everything cropped up in my cooking: i’ve shied away from serendipity and sought out simplicity and the same old. i off-roaded my livelihood straight into a lackluster rut.
so it goes! creative ruts happen. while i’m loath to just stand by as the tendrils of self-optimization suffocate one of my favorite forms of self-expression, i recognize that this rut is no different from others in which i’ve languished: i can’t force my way out.
i’m living in a particularly…
the pandemic changed how i dine out. forgive me for such a trite opener: it’s concise and true. as my increasingly vaccinated milieu threatens to burst my (physical, social, emotional) quarantine bubble, my overstimulated mind has turned to restaurants as The Thing To Talk About with friends i haven’t seen in months and don’t quite remember how to interact with.
conversation starters include:
i’ve been feeling quite fond of my cache of nut butters lately, both pantry-placed and memory-moored.
i’m not usually one to remember dreams, but a few weeks ago i woke up with a simple fall breakfast at the forefront of my mind. my boyfriend and i were about to embark on an early morning bike ride — one of many we’ve taken around the city — and hadn’t yet fallen into our breakfast speed-run of stove-simmered oats when we just needed to get out the door.
we ambled over to a shabby café not because it was Yelp-starred, but because…
to purchase unripe plantains is to make an investment in my future. wrap them up in a paper bag, squirrel them away in a kitchen corner, and wait... a few days? a week? two? who knows! but the anticipation of their black-speckled ripeness foretells a favorable meal.
today, one of my plantains reached (what i consider to be) its zenith of flavor. i spent idle moments throughout the day planning a plantain-centered dinner with only ingredients that i had at home.
yesterday, i blended frozen açai packets (plastic discarded) with a cloyingly overripe banana and left some rolled oats and dark chocolate granola to soak in that mixture overnight in the fridge. after a hearty foam roll (optional), i beelined to the kitchen where i topped my jar of açai-ified oats and granola with crumbled cashews, banana slices, two dollops of (kinda mediocre) tahini, and the salty/seedy leftovers of my coarse-grained attempt at nik sharma’s gunpowder nut masala. i mixed all ingredients together to eat and would describe the overall taste as bittersweet with a hint of umami and salt — a delectable combination — and texture as appropriately chonky.
it feels apt to christen this new blog with a post about its namesake dish.
my go-to workday lunch for the past year has been salad and toast. though it sounds boring, i’ve grown more and more fond of this simple meal over the months. i like it for a few key reasons:
The pandemic changed how I read. Fiction has always been my wheelhouse; not so in 2020. Of the 48 total books I read, 24 — half! — were nonfiction. (The rest: 23 fiction books, 1 collection of poetry.)
What happened? After sheltering in place for a few months, the reading habit whose constancy I thought I could always count on faltered. Paying attention to plot lines grew onerous so I leafed through cookbooks to keep up the act of reading. …
Welcome to my second-annual book brain-dump! Last year, I once again refused to set an “I-must-read-X-books-in-a-year” goal. That tactic works for some, but I fear it would turn one of my favorite solo activities into a source of anxiety. I still managed to read a whole lotta books: 48 to be exact.
2019 started off as a lackluster reading year for me. By the summer, I felt discouraged by the books that I had read: I liked many of them, but none really stood out to me as The Book I’d want to discuss with any poor soul who happened…
Even though I refused to set an integral reading goal in 2018, I somehow ended up reading 46 books — that’s six more than in 2017, when I felt a bit rushed to reach the 40-book goal that I had set. I’ve pulled out eight books to recommend from my complete list of 2018 reads.
Mid-March marked the five-year anniversary of my acquaintance with Kurt Vonnegut — one of my most beloved authors— so I read three books by him in 2018. I may have found a new favorite in Sirens of Titan, an intergalactic parable about the meaning of…