Chessy From The Parent Trap Is My Cooking Hero
Much like Sweetbitter the book I return to when the world is spinning madly, The Parent Trap is a film that feels like a burger after a night out or a bowl of sticky rice when your sick. It’s pure comfort and watching it for the 2390483094th time earlier this week, I discovered a new layer I hadn’t subconsciously thought of when watching it all those other times (some of them with a burger after a night out). Food and familiarity. Wine and family. Chessy as the replacement mom (I mean, just look at her mom jeans!).
There are various moments in the film where food plays a pivotal role. The stake out where Hallie and her pals sneak into Annie’s cabin and spray whipped cream on pillows, pour honey on the floor and set up elaborate contraptions so a vat of chocolate sauce rains down on the Marvas. The infamous oreo-and-peanut-butter revelation. The fact that Hallie is desperate to go to the dining hall even when she’s about to discover she has a twin sister she’s been separated from for 11 years. The cereal bowl full of chilli and cornbread Chessy makes upon Hallie/Annie’s return. Most disturbing is the frankly delightful breakfast Chessy prepares (chocolate chip pancakes, eggs sunny side up, toast, FRESHLY SQUEEZED orange juice) that Hallie/Annie completely ignores except for one bite of toast. I mean, come on, get real.
Chessy, with her perfect double denim ensembles and sassy remarks about Meredith Blake (“if you ask me, she’s done a better job selling herself than the grapes”), is the film’s unsung hero. The constant provider of comfort when chaos reigns everywhere else. When she finds out that Hallie is actually Annie, she wipes her tears and says: “I'm going to make you something special to eat. What would you like? Anything? You know what, it doesn't matter, I'm just going to go whip up everything we've got, OK?”. How many times have I instinctively reacted in the same way when loved ones are sad or lost or in love or alone? For Chessy, food is not just comfort but an act of love. And we see Chessy show her maternal instinct through this act.
Mothers feed their children throughout pregnancy and may breastfeed their babies, and as time goes on may provide meals and food and comfort throughout their children’s lives (I say may because I never want to assume what someone’s family choices are). Hallie didn’t have a mother to cook her pancakes growing up; but she had Chessy. Perhaps her character resonates the most because it’s the role I’ve always taken in friendship: the hopeful provider of comfort. The almost-family-member. The food-will-fix-anything mentality.
Anyway, as you can tell I’ve really thought a lot about Chessy this week (about her meals, and perhaps more about her outfits). But also about how food is an expression of love and comfort – and that those two things are inextricably entwined.
Here’s to the Chessies in our lives, and they love and comfort they bring through food.
Cat x
If I was a slick newsletter strategist, I would have probably recipe-tested a chilli and cornbread dish to reflect the theme of this week’s newsletter (my obsession with Chessy), but I’m not, so here’s an unmeasured recipe for this courgette and tomato linguine that’s basically breezy summer evenings spent in back gardens/parks/beaches/car parks with friends smoking ciggies drinking bottles of cold white wine and marvelling at intoxicating sunsets.
For two people you’ll need:
A big handful of linguine cooking in a pot of salted boiling water
A pan filled with a couple of tbsp of olive oil on medium heat with the following thrown in together when the oil is hot:
2-3 garlic cloves crushed and sliced
1/2 red chilli deseeded and finely chopped
A punnet of halved cherry tomatoes
Either one small or 1/2 medium-large courgette, sliced into thin rounds and halved
Once the pasta is cooked to your taste and the pan is smelling like summer (courgettes are soft, tomatoes are bursting) remove the linguine from the pot and into the pan. Use a little pasta water to gloss up the sauce; keep the pan heat turned up to low-medium. Zest a little lemon and grate as much parm as feels right (for me it’s a mountain), stir through with torn fresh basil. We had ours with a super simple radish, cucumber and mint salad dressed with lemon juice and olive oil and lots of flaky salt. Best eaten outside with a glass of cold, crisp white wine and a lengthy conversation about The Parent Trap.
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