Damn You, Donald Trump, for Making Us Eat Our Feelings
He looks better as a tostada, but I'd still rather never see his face again.
As the map turned redder and redder Tuesday night, I knew what I had to do.
I turned on the stove, poured olive oil and garlic powder into a cast iron pot, and seared the fuck out of a giant hunk of brisket, flipping it over and securing the lid for a three hour steam bath. By the time my husband got home, Donald Trump was president — but the house smelled fantastic.
I'm not the only one eating my feelings. There are reports all over my social media feeds of apple fritter coffee cake in the oven; homemade ribs and coleslaw for breakfast; cheesy pasta from Chris Bianco's Tratto for dinner.
My friend Karen admits that she let her daughter take the day off school yesterday. (Full disclosure: So did I.) They went to IHOP. Karen "requested seconds on whipped cream for my toasted marshmallow hot chocolate" and ended the day with pie.
How quickly we went from star-festooned pastries, H-shaped pancakes, and festive Senate bean soup to tear-filled beers. How cocky we all were, my friends and I, so sure we were ushering in the first woman president. So ready to celebrate.
"I bought balloons, I bought cake, I bought champagne, I bought sparkling cider," my friend Liz wrote on Facebook late Tuesday. "As [my girls] were going to sleep, I told them that I was so sorry about what had happened. [One] said, `It's okay Mom, I still like balloons and cake.' I didn't have the heart to tell her that it's not okay. So sad for everyone but especially for all of the daughters out there."
Liz posted a photo of the cake. It was carrot, decorated with the words, "We Did It."
The next day, we all got up and stared at our Facebook feeds. And ate. When we were done, we went shopping for more.
Silvana Salcido Esparza from Barrio Cafe posted a selfie in front of a table of packaged bundt cakes. Caption: "Found #solace with a group of strangers at the grocery store."
As for me, I stopped by CVS on the way home, in search of dessert to go with the brisket. They were out of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Therapy so I settled for something called Americone, apparently sanctioned by Stephen Colbert — and, later, most of a bottle of red wine.
I woke up this morning, made the coffee extra-strong, and declared the pity party over — the food and drink portion, anyway. Who wants to give Donald Trump the satisfaction?
"Back to healthy eating today," Karen reports. "Michelle Obama wants me to eat my veggies."
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