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These are the substitute times. When you were a kid in school substitute days were always filled with the vague concept of treading water, or waiting for “the real teacher” to come back. (Please read no disrespect toward substitute teachers, who, God bless them, have such an impossible task.) Inherent in the concept of substitute is this absence of real, a lack of something counting. It seems to come with the concept of less than baked in.

The same is true with cooking and baking substitutes. Cooking and baking forums are filled with substitutes you can use when you don’t have the called for or “right” ingredient. I confess that I am not very good at the substitute game. A stocked pantry and freezer made me feel comforted–even before a global pandemic and supply chain issues resulted in grocery store rationing. I am one of those people who likes to have all the pieces. Sure I can riff in and out mix-ins, flavors, etc, but swapping out general building blocks makes me leary. It feels like a lot of work to go through if I am not guaranteed the result I want.

My sister is on the other side of this continuum. She gets a genuine thrill out of making things work. We often talk about preparing dinner for our respective families, and we often preface the actual phone call to prepare the other with a text saying, “DHH?” That stands for the dinner help hotline. We have done this for years.

My joke about the DHH is that my sister will call and say, I have a stalk of celery and a chicken breast–what should I make–go! And I get all flustered because frankly, I have the opposite issue. I have frozen ground beef, frozen cod, chicken thighs, some zucchini and artichokes that need to be cooked, and pasta, rice or potatoes. Any thoughts on which direction I should go?

However, as many of us sit on the sidelines of this crisis, doing our part by doing nothing, by waiting, we are discovering something that a few of us–like my sister–knew all along. A substitute isn’t always less than. There is freedom in swapping out things, just to see if it will work. There can also be real joy there too. Not necessarily a joy that was sought out, but true, discovered joy nonetheless.

As is often the case, I think that what happens in the kitchen and with cooking is a decent metaphor for what is happening in the rest of the world as well. We are improvising meals in the kitchen, but also in the rhythm of our day to day lives. So many of us are waking up to days at home filled with card games, reading, baking, yard work, actually talking to friends on the phone/zoom, or like I was last night, in a group cocktail hour via facetime. It took us a few tries to get the technology right, but what did we have to lose? This whole weird upside-down world stole from us our idea of what is normal and real, but maybe we will discover the freedom to explore substitutes we never thought we would before. All around me, I see people trying new things, exploring new options for being human, for connecting, for substituting going out with hours making extensive and beautiful chalk smudged sidewalks, or for tackling that never before tried thing. Some are even making bread for the first time ever, which thrills my soul.

My Saturday morning optimism about substitutes does not diminish in any way the angst so many of us are feeling, my self included. Pruning back is never a good feeling. Sacrificing is hard. Maybe more frustratingly, it is hard for everyone in unique ways—I read stories about things given up, from couples getting married without anyone to witness their grand commitment, to grandparents seeing new grandbabies through windows, to seniors losing their prom and graduations, and I am struck by the sheer magnitude of all the personal tragedies around us. And this, of course, does not even touch the tragedies of the people who get sick, or the people who get really, really sick, or the front line health workers tending to them, or the people that love them on the other side of a quarantine unable to hold their hands. It is all so much.

And yet, as I take stock of the sacrifice and tragedy that abounds, I can see the substitutes sparkling out there in the world. Seeing that new grandbaby through the window causes joy, even as it comes with the ache of not being able to hold that new life. It is this capacity, this ability to adapt, to plumb our souls for what we can do that fills my heart with optimism for all of the world. We should mourn the losses. But we must (and will!) find the substitutes, even if it takes a few tries to get it right.

PS. In case you are wondering, I am going to suggest chicken salad for the above celery and chicken breast issue, with mayo, or yogurt/sour cream, dried or fresh tarragon, spread on crackers, bread, or in lettuce cups. If you have any dried fruit or grapes to add for a bit of sweetness, too, well done you. Substitutes highly encouraged.