On Authenticity

Blazers, bracelets, seafood pasta, and the stories we tell ourselves.

I bought a new blazer recently¹. As I was checking out, the salesman commented that he liked the bracelets I was wearing, a series of string bracelets I’ve had in some combination for the last fifteen years or so². When I thanked him, and told him that the one he specifically liked — the red one — was for my wife and Kiddo, that the black one was for the Warthog, and the other two were reminders for me, he looked a little confused. Then he laughed.

“I guess you could say, then, that mine are for my cat!”

I thought about this interaction for awhile after I left the store. That a dude in a retail shop would be confused by the fact that I was wearing jewelry with some sentimental meaning³ is not terrifically surprising, but the experience is related to an idea I’ve been kicking around for awhile: that much of what we consume today is defined by form over function. What we wear, how we decorate, how we act is dictated more by vibes than practicality.

Some examples: outdoor clothing for people who don’t work or recreate outside; board and batten siding for aesthetic, not weather-proofing, purposes; farmhouse tables used in formal dining rooms; fishing boots worn for strolls through the Boston Common.

I’m guilty of this practice myself — I wear camo when I’m not actively hunting; I wear canvas pants when I’m working indoors; we have a gas fireplace with a rock-façaded mantle; heck, I even wear my Xtratufs when walking our dog. All of these things look cool. They evoke an image, a story about who I am and what I enjoy. Certainly aesthetics matter, but, more and more, I think it’s important to have an authenticity in what we consume and how we consume it. I want to buy better. And, when choosing what to buy, I’m trying to focus less on what “looks cool,” and instead, if the item serves the purpose for which it is intended. Is it an authentic version of what it’s meant to be?

Authenticity is important. In what you buy, what you eat⁴, and in yourself.

Sam Sager

and I were talking the other day — after a wonderful lunch, which he paid for⁵ — about this. How, often, we think we have a vision of the type of person we want to be. If you envision yourself as a gregarious, outgoing, social butterfly, it takes some self-reflection to come to the understanding — and to be okay with the fact — that you’re content living a semi-reclusive life, talking to maybe a dozen people regularly, enjoying time mostly with your family and close friends⁶. In the same vein, it’s okay not to act on every whim you have, to not dive head-first into every hobby, to be okay letting things manifest themselves as they come. When you’re meant to start hunting or spearfishing, you’ll start hunting or spearfishing. When you’re meant to get goats, you’ll get goats⁷.

This doesn’t happen automatically. It’s easy in any stage of your life to get caught up in the currents of culture, to think you need to act, buy, eat, live a certain way. The stories we tell ourselves about what we want may change — I’ve certainly gone through multitudes — but ultimately, with some introspection, you can, indeed, achieve self-actualization. You can be okay knowing you’d rather call it a night at 9pm than stay out. You can be okay being perceived as eccentric. You can be authentic.

Just as authenticity can’t be faked nor forced and must be embraced, so, too, must those overplanted squashes and zucchinis laughing at me from out in our garden. Last summer, running into the same issue, we started riffing on a seafood pasta using whatever vegetables were in the garden and whatever tinned and fresh seafood we had on hand. The other night, making use of the day’s six pound squash harvest, I finally remembered to take some photos⁸ so I could share it. Enjoy this one knowing that the function of the dish — its taste — is more important than its form.

Dice up whatever vegetables you have on hand — in this case, squash, zucchini, scape, cherry tomatoes, and an onion — and cook them in a deep pan until softened, browning, and aromatic. You may need to do this in batches, depending on how much veg you have. Meanwhile, cook whatever pasta you have on hand til al dente.

Deglaze the vegetable pan with white wine and lemon juice or vinegar, and then drain the pasta and mix it in. Add several tins of seafood — mussels, clams, calamari — and fresh shrimp or other sea creatures, if you have them. Toss well to combine, and serve with grated cheese — something generally frowned upon in Italy, but nevertheless, delicious.

There you have it folks — a quick pasta to chip away at your overhaul from the garden or CSA. This does well on lazy nights, since there’s little cooking beyond pasta and vegetables, and the whole mess tastes surprisingly good cold the next day.

With that, I’ll leave you to your weekends. Family CWD is back up North, looking forward to lots of time spent submerged in water, blueberries, and probably a boat ride to get ice cream. Nana and Grandfather, take note.

Whether you plan to spend the weekend in revelry or self-reflection, spend it well. We’ll see you back here next week.

1. Well, knit blazer, really. This one from Faherty, if you’re curious. Not quite a blazer in the traditional sense, yet not quite a cardigan (thanks for noticing) either.

2. You can see them here, along with a MONSTER panfish I hooked into the other day, in the title image

3. As opposed to his bracelets, which he then told me he wore because he thought they looked cool.

4. That’s radical eating, in a nutshell — or “regenerative eating,” as

Marissa Lippert

calls it in her terrific essay of the same name in her newsletter

Well Fed

.

5. And because of that, I’m sure he’ll never assert a Tundra is a smaller truck than a Tacoma again!

6. I’m talking about myself, if you can’t tell, despite Myers-Briggs results — a test that, yes Sam and Adam, I took recently! — that would peg me as an extrovert.

7. Sorry, Sam, had to do it ;)

8. Two, to be exact — even though I swore I took at least my usual four.