This is SEASONED

... stories from the stove, and more.

We cooks often hold out a tasting spoon and ask each other: Is it SEASONED enough?

I wish I was in the kitchen with you. But I’m not. So, SEASONED is a way for me to send you a little letter every now and then. It might include a food memory, a recipe, an ode to a vegetable, or a tip for what to snack on. I will share with you what I’m cooking and what I’m thinking about. I’m used to looking at each day through the prism of food. What can I make for dinner with what’s in the fridge? Where can I grab a tasty and inexpensive bite to eat while running around New York City? What am I cooking with my sustainable fish share? What is the best cookie at the Syrian bakery in my neighborhood?

Most food needs to be SEASONED. Of course, there are many ways of doing this: Salt, spices, fresh herbs, miso, citrus, tamari, good olive oil, etc. I strongly believe that laughter, travel, fresh air, and new experiences season your food too. I have a lot of knowledge at my fingertips. I hope to share it with you.

When I cook, I free-associate. I hear the voices of people who cooked alongside me in various restaurants, the brilliant chefs (many of them women) I’ve worked for, and the adults at whose sides I learned when I was a child. My influences have been many, and they include market vendors in Rome, cookbook authors whose words I’ve devoured, and old friends who riff fearlessly in the kitchen. I never know whose going to pop up, or when. I call them All The Cooks In My Head but they’re the best kind of voices to hear. I have learned from them all.

Sometimes I like to say that I am SEASONED.

Cooking soothes me and helps me think straight. I have learned that even when things are impossible to understand, making something good to eat is usually the answer: It brings the details into focus, and can help you find your way when you’re lost. At least it has helped me.

I went from being a hard-working culinary professional to a bereaved, traumatized mother in the blink of an eye. When the ground under me caved in and my world darkened, food became a lifeline. First it was delivered by friends. Then I began, slowly, to tiptoe back into kitchen. I began to write then, too; I had an urge to share what was happening to me and how my thoughts unfurled when I was at the stove. I opened up.

I had an article about the experience published. I wrote on my blog sporadically through my grief, and then through several months of living in Rome. These days, I am eager to get more thoughts on food and life out into the world and I really like the way this platform encourages cross-pollination among writers. There is so much to discover and share!

I won’t bombard you- my own inbox is hard enough to stay on top of, so I get it. You can expect an email from me about every two weeks. My letters will be free for now, and I might add a paid tier at some point down the road. If there’s something you find inspiring, or thought-provoking, or just makes you want to get into the kitchen, then please comment in the chat or let me know. This will help guide me.

And should my letters get lost in the endless scroll of your inbox, or in your spam, you can look on the Substack website or app, where you’re sure to find so much to intrigue you.

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