Flop eras, JLaw, and grilled branzino

my return to Substack

To whoever is reading this post:

It’s been a minute, but boy am I excited to share that I am finally making my return to Substack. If you’re still here from 2023 (oy vey) - thank you for sticking around. You can expect some similar content to before (recipes, restaurants, random thoughts on life etc.) but this time around, my Substack will primarily serve as a place for my writing. It’s *me* we’re talking about so of course, food will almost always play a major role in the stories I tell (it’s the basis through which I view the world, after all.) But there’s so much more I’d like to get into and share with you all and I think this is the perfect place to do it.

Whatever comes next and however this Substack evolves, I’m genuinely honored to have you here for the ride. Hope you enjoy my first post about a certain phase of life aptly titled ‘Flop eras, JLaw, and grilled branzino.’ And if you do - do me a favor and share/subscribe❤️

-Emily

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Have you guys heard of a flop era? If you’re not chronically online and attuned to the words/eras/XX-core’s invented by Gen-Z on a weekly basis, let me explain:

A flop era is, essentially, an era of flops. A period of bummers, a time of “failure,” a stretch of stagnation. If you’re my mom, the “flop era” can be explained by her classic zebra analogy (to be recited in a thick Russian accent otherwise it doesn’t hit the same): “life is like a zebra. There are white stripes and there are black stripes and the only thing you can be certain of is that after one, comes the other.”

If you need another example, think Jennifer Lawrence in her Red Sparrow/Mother era. She came off a SLEW of hits: Hunger Games, American Hustle, Silver Linings Playbook - basically Hollywood’s “it” girl - and dove straight into several box office bummers.

The thing about a flop era is that, similarly to its inverse (we’ll call that the “slay” era in keeping with my Gen-Z slang), it doesn’t last forever. But when you’re in it, it feels like it will.

For all intents and purposes, I am currently in my flop era. Not all flop eras are built the same and mine has been less about specific failures and more about the lack of hits. It’s been marked by a distinct stillness, a period of pause that has sent my type A, proactive, work/success-defined self into an existential tizzy. Like what do you mean I don’t have a lineup of campaigns, work trips, and projects to keep me busy and distract me from myself? Am I supposed to just, like, exist? What happens next???? WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?!?!

I’ll spare you from the literal thousands of questions I’ve asked myself on a daily basis but what I will say is, as with anything in this life, your flop era is all about perspective. And the perspective that’s suited me and my ever-racing mind best (and you can trust me on this one because lemme tell you, I’ve taken a lot of different perspectives out for a spin over the last few months) - is the one that views the stillness as a gift. It’s a temporary gift because one day you’ll be back like Jennifer Lawrence in No Hard Feelings and *pining* for the quiet stillness. So what would my future best/most successful/busy AF self wish I did with it?

I’d wish I spent more time with my parents. So that’s exactly what I am doing.

I’m writing this from Ohio, staring at the same backyard I’ve stared at for 22 years. The dark pink roses climbing up the trellis against the garage seem to have multiplied and there are several additions to the miniature garden my dad is propagating (tomato season is about to be lit). The shadows cast by my favorite Smoketree are longer and wider and there’s a curious number of local rabbits bounding freely through the yard in the absence of their canine enemies (first Gia - RIP - and then Dino - back to California after a brief stint in Ohio with my sister). And when I look to my left I see our beloved grill - a little worse for wear but every bit as capable of charring eggplant for seenya (basically an eastern euro baba ganoush) and crisping up the skin of my mom’s famous garlicky grilled branzino. In fact, that’s what we’ll be having tonight because one thing that *never* changes in this house is my mom living to feed.

I come home to feel comfort, expecting everything to feel the same and in a lot of ways, it does. But ironically, it’s this enduring “sameness” that makes the subtle markers of change, often unintentional and simply due to the passage of time, that much more impactful. I guess sometimes it’s the growth that happens in the stillness that’s the most meaningful of all.

Mom’s Garlic Branzino

WHAT YOU NEED

• 2 whole branzino, gutted/cleaned

• 1 bulb garlic, finely chopped

• Salt

• Pepper

• Paprika

• Olive oil

• 1 halved lemon (optional)

• Dill (optional)

WHAT YOU DO

Mix the minced garlic with salt, pepper and paprika. (if you thought I was giving you measurements you’re sorely mistaken - this is an Alla Fedner recipe. I asked her how much of each and she said “a dash” so do with that what you will - let’s call it ½ tsp smoked paprika and s+p to taste).

Wash the fish and cut the fins. Score the skin 3-4 times on each side and rub the garlic mixture all over and inside the fish. Cover and let marinate in the fridge for 1-2 hours.

To grill (recommended):

Heat the grill to about 375/400F. Place some nonstick foil on the grill, drizzle a bit of olive oil on it and add the fish. Drizzle them with some olive oil too. Grill for about 15 minutes, flipping when the skin is charred and finishing for another 10 or so. At the flipping point you can also add a halved lemon to the foil for some charred lemon action.

To bake:

Preheat the oven to 375F. Add fish to greased baking-safe dish. Drizzle with olive oil. Bake for an hour.

Serve with charred lemon and dill if you’d like.