Hello! I trust this post finds you as well as possible at the beginning of 2026. I’m wishing you well :)

I thought I’d check in and share about my latest life transition- entering grad school at Union Theological Seminary in pursuit of a Master’s of Divinity in Buddhism and Interreligious Engagement. I’m happy to report that I treasure the program, the studies, peers, professors, and so on. And it probably goes without saying that living in New York City has been a change! Anyways, for the first time in a long time, it feels like I’m in the right place, at least a place I can foresee myself being and growing in for the next 2 1/2 years. I’m so grateful to all the people in my life who have supported and inspired me to reach this point, so please consider this a personal thank you. If you’re reading this, it’s highly likely you’ve been part of the equation.

This past fall semester, I was enrolled in the following courses: Intro to Buddhist Meditation Practices, Spiritual Care in Crisis, Pastoral Listening, and Intro to the Bible. While there are lovely, unique experiences and insights from each, I thought I’d share about my experience in the Bible course. It was life-changing to read the Bible in an interfaith context, and our professor, Rev. Dr. Brigette Kahl, continually left me awe-struck by her ability to read and interpret the Bible with profound insight, having devoted decades of scholarly study to the task.

Below, I share my final paper for the class. If you're interested in reading it, I’d love to hear your thoughts/perspectives/insights, regardless of your religion/spirituality/etc. Furthermore, if you find this interesting, please let me know, and I may continue to share other tidbits from additional courses/experiences.

Biblical Narratives for Inter-eating: Realizing Interdependence Through Divinely-Intended Consumption

Throughout the Bible, key stories elucidate how an individual’s or community’s consumption directly correlates to their capacity to be in good and proper relation with one another, the land, and the divine. Therefore, ethical consumption is an imperative foundation and embodied practice from which to subvert proclivities for domination and violence. The following account will highlight Biblical stories with divine commandments, which facilitate remembering and honoring the divinely intended, interdependent nature of creation.

Beginning with the first origin story of Genesis 1, a divine “food manifesto” is revealed in 1:29-31 as the apex of the account, the means through which creation’s harmonious and interdependent functioning is fulfilled. While there is commonly a fixation on the creation of humanity as the pinnacle of God’s creations, often presupposing that humanity, as given the order to “subdue it; and have dominion over…”, is the apple of God’s eye, the account continues beyond 1:28. From 1:29, God casts humanity, along with “every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life”, into a plant-based order of consumption, where every green plant is available for their collective food. Altogether, all of creation is intended and able to consume in a manner that reinforces non-harm, co-existence, and equality. From this vision, seeing the harmony and interdependence of all creation, God displays a climax of delight by proclaiming how “very good” everything is, not just humanity. While the Bible is nuanced, complex, and vast, it is important to honor this preliminary creation account and correct popular anthropocentric assumptions that obscure God’s intentions for non-harm and equality among the totality of creation. Furthermore, it could be argued that if this is the context of creation, such equality is both inherent and necessary for both collective well-being and the delight of God, as part of humanity’s original instructions.

Moving into Exodus 16, the Lord is making an effort to correct humanity’s tendency, as evidenced throughout Genesis, to fall vulnerable to greed and inflict domination and violence upon one another, including all of creation. The Lord attempts to rectify these harmful habits by offering an immersive (and non-optional) reset of humankind’s consumption that fosters thrift, integrity, rest, equality, sustainability, and gratitude. When the Israelites found themselves in the wilderness without their accustomed creature comforts, they complained and idealized the food accessibility that Egypt had afforded them, even though this accessibility was only made possible by their own subjugation. Since then, they were freed from slavery by their Lord. In the wilderness, the Lord offered the Israelites bread from heaven, manna, and espoused principles upon which their daily bread was dependent. These principles include gathering just enough for each day, except on the day before the Sabbath, where they gather twice as much (Ex 16:4-5). When they gathered the manna, regardless of the amount collected, they all ended up with the same amount, which was just enough for the day. Instructed by the Lord not to save any of it for the following day, whatever was dishonorably saved became foul, which proved the inherent lawfulness of the Lord’s guidance (Ex 16:17-20). However, on the Sabbath, what they made and saved from the previous day remained good, and there was no manna available to be collected.

This manna-based diet is one of thrift, making use of what is plentiful and generously provided, rather than extracting and imposing harm, which presupposes power-over. This thrift, or dependence on the Lord, also provokes humility, where they must contend with their utter dependence and lack of control. Their manna consumption also promotes integrity, as there is no alternative but to do what is right, since inequities are immediately remediated, as opposed to the restorative justice that can occur over a prolonged timescale. Rest proves to be an essential modality for maintaining balance, providing a restraint against the overworking and overexertion of oneself and others. While rest is critical to the Sabbath, even in a day, the manna melts in the heat of the sun, insinuating that there are subsequent rhythms within a day to fulfill work and rest (Ex 16:21). From a praxis of thrift, integrity, and rest, sustainability and equality are empowered. Everyone is given equal access to sustenance, and the sustainability of their consumption is bolstered by not undermining their collective source. Finally, the Israelites are commanded to keep an omer of manna throughout the generations, to tell the story of and keep alive the way of manna and how, through it, the Lord provided salvation from Egypt and domination.

Out of the confines and naturally explicit constraints of the wilderness, the Lord’s commandments are relied upon to evoke adherence to the manifold teachings of the divinely bestowed manna. In Deuteronomy, the Lord’s covenant is given through Moses, reminding the Israelites to honor the Sabbath (Deut 5:12-15). Like in Genesis 1, the Israelites are asked to follow in God’s example, of resting and delighting in the interdependence of creation; however, now entrenched in systems of exploitation and domination, the Sabbath also becomes a tool for realizing remembrance and restoration of interdependence and equality, therefore necessarily including women, children, slaves, livestock, foreigners, and the earth. Further, the Sabbath is also a day for remembering their personal enslavement, their intimate knowing of the harms of being subjugated, and how the Lord brought them out of slavery, which showcases the Lord’s ongoing ministry of restoring justice to the oppressed. Now, as a people with more freedom and capacity to actualize power over others, they are commanded to realize and restore wellbeing for themselves and for all with regimented regularity, to resist tendencies of subjugating others.

In the New Testament, another element of divine teaching is weaved in to reinforce adherence to interdependent consumption. In Mark 6:30-44, Jesus and the disciples feed a crowd of 5,000 with five loaves of bread and two fish, where the food is distributed equally, all are fed and filled, and twelve baskets brimming with abundant leftovers remain. In Mark 8:1-21, Jesus and the disciples again feed the masses, however, Jesus has since undergone a transformation that delivered him to the heart of his ministry, a lesson taught to him by the Syrophoenician woman’s faith in Mark 7:24-30. From his learning, he was enabled to refine his theology when he fed the next 4,000. With seven loaves of bread and a few fish, once again all are fed and filled, yet now seven baskets full of leftovers remain. These seven loaves and baskets could represent the seven days of creation, and serve as a reminder of the indiscriminate inclusion of everyone in the divine nature of consumption. With wit and divine wisdom, the Syrophoenician woman is able to remind Jesus that there is enough nutriment, literal and spiritual, for everyone, a message that corrects the trajectory of his ministry and, consequently, the message he is able to impart and bestow. From there on, because of the Syrophoenician woman, Jesus strengthens his message of radical faithfulness, of there being enough for everyone, which begets dogged, indiscriminate generosity and hospitality.

Through these Biblical narratives, ethical consumption is revealed as an embodied practice through which creation’s interdependence is remembered, enacted, and sustained. From the plant-based order of Genesis 1 to the manna pedagogy in Exodus 16, the Scriptures showcase that what and how people consume is intended to resist domination/dominating, cultivate equality, and participate in God’s delight. The Sabbath covenant in Deuteronomy and the gospel meals of Jesus further demonstrate that ethical eating is a primary means through restoring right relationship among people, land, and the divine. These arcs of creation, liberation, covenant, and ministry are able to evoke harmonious teachings where: enough is divinely provided for all, and humanity actively participates in this “enoughness” via practives that prevent hoarding, exploitation, and harm. The Syrophoecian woman’s insistence that even crumbs bear abundance, and Jesus’ subsequent transformation, testify that God’s vision of sustenance refuses the boundaries humans draw. Divine nourishment is expansive enough to dismantle hierarchies and to extend belonging where society withholds it.

In conclusion, biblical narratives of consumption cultivate dispositions capable of subverting violence, resisting greed and domination, and recovering humanity’s vocation within creation. Ethical consumption engenders communities of remembrance, caretaking, restraint, and shared flourishing. By attending to these stories, contemporary readers have the potential to recover divine intention: a way of living and eating that honors the interconnected nature of creation, sustains and restores justice, and reflects the abundance of God.

Individualism at it’s finest

These days, I’m residing at Plum Village in France, as a happy farmer at the Lower Hamlet’s “Happy Farm”. My energy is largely devoted to gardening, practicing Buddhist ethics and meditation, and running. Alongside a beautiful team, I collaborate with the land, the elements, and countless non-human beings—not only to grow food, but to cultivate a deeper connection to life itself. In truth, food is a byproduct of this more fundamental process. In earnest, this season of life feels deeply wholesome, joyful, and grounding. I am incredibly grateful.

The farm is fertile ground—not just for vegetables, but for transformation. Joy and suffering alike surface here, and through them, I witness the impermanence of all things. This daily dance with change reminds me of the preciousness of life in its many forms. I practice meditation and Buddhist ethics for similar reasons: to embody compassion, nonviolence, and wisdom, and to be inspired by teachings and community. Running, too, has become a way of connecting with the landscape of both body and world—the shifting weather, the flowers blooming and fading, spring's oscillation between sunshine and rain.

The Subtle Faces of Individualism

Nevertheless, these practices have their shadow-side. Running, for instance, can sometimes shift from being a source of peace2 to a measure of self-worth. In those moments, it becomes a project—to feel in control, to maintain a certain body image, to be "fit enough." When I skip a run, it can trigger anxiety and shame. With mindfulness, though, I’ve learned to recognize these feelings as symptoms of a broader cultural conditioning—rooted in Western wellness culture and individualism. Naming these influences helps me take them less personally.

Similarly, my experiences of meditation and farming can reinforce a narrow awareness—one that's hyper-focused on the self. As a White woman in predominantly White spiritual and farming spaces3, there’s a risk of spiritual bypassing: of taking my individual journey too seriously while failing to remain in touch with collective wellbeing. This, I believe, is one of the more dangerous aspects of individualism—when it disguises itself as personal growth. When this happens, I’m unavailable to attend to my truest, most essential wellbeing- that of the collective.

Cultivating awareness of the shadows

I’m learning to observe these shadow sides with more care. When feelings like shame or anxiety arise—say, from skipping a run—I try to meet them with the mindfulness practice known as RAIN4, first introduced by Michelle McDonald:

• Recognize the emotion

• Allow it to exist without pushing it away

• Investigate how it feels in the body and what it’s connected to

• Non-identify, or remember that I am not this emotion

Non-identification helps me understand that these feelings arise from conditions much larger than my individual self. They are temporary, conditioned, and not inherently "mine."

Sometimes, these feelings are tangled with disordered thoughts about food or with values like perfectionism and hyper-individualism—qualities deeply rooted in white supremacy culture5. By seeing this clearly, I don’t need to eliminate running, but rather bring more honesty and equilibrium to the practice. I’m learning that balance isn’t a fixed state, but an ongoing dance of discernment.

Running as Practice, Not Project

Buddhist psychology has helped me notice when running tips from nourishment into compulsion. During Plum Village’s three-month Rain’s Retreat, I began to reflect on how much space running took up in my life—and what the outcomes of that were.

In our Buddhist psychology classes with Venerable Sister Jina, we were invited to notice what "seeds" are being watering in our consciousness:

• What seeds are being watered by these actions or thoughts?

• Which ones would I prefer not to water?

The goal isn’t to eliminate experiences, but to bring awareness and choice into the process. For example, if I go running out of exhaustion or guilt, I might be watering seeds of resentment, fatigue, or isolation—rather than joy, vitality, or connection. In that case, even a “healthy” behavior might be out of alignment with my deeper values.

Dr. Larry Ward’s America’s Racial Karma added further depth to this reflection. He offers additional questions for inner inquiry:

• If I give this seed more energy, where will it take me?

  • Will it lead to wholeness in self and society?

  • Will it lead to a safe and just society?

  • Will it lead to meaningful, sustainable lives for us all?

These questions offered me a gentle wake-up call. Yes, running can be a powerful tool for self-care and mental health, which in turn helps me show up for others. But when it becomes too centered on individual achievement, it risks severing the very connection it seeks to support. I now ask myself: Is this practice nourishing connection or deepening separation?

A tool for ongoing reflection

To support myself in navigating this ongoing tension between personal practices and collective care, I had good ole’ ChatGPT create a simple reflection tool. It's not a checklist, but an invitation into curiosity, honesty, and alignment. I share it here in case it might be useful for you, too.

Mindful Practice Reflection Tool

A gentle check-in for cultivating balance, connection, and collective care.

Use this as a periodic reflection—especially when a practice begins to feel heavy, compulsive, or disconnected.

1. What is my intention?

• Am I doing this from joy, balance, curiosity?

• Or from guilt, fear, pressure, or needing to "achieve"?

2. How does it affect me (internally)?

• Does it nourish me or deplete me?

• What emotions arise before, during, and after?

3. Am I noticing cultural conditioning?

• Is this rooted in perfectionism, control, body image, or productivity?

• What systems or values might be influencing this?

4. What seeds am I watering?

• Joy, connection, vitality?

• Or isolation, resentment, anxiety?

5. Is this deepening connection or separation?

• Do I feel closer to the land, others, or life?

• Or more self-focused and closed off?

6. Is this supporting collective wellbeing?

• Would this way of being help create a just, sustainable, compassionate society?

This list isn’t meant to dictate or moralize, but to bring me into honest relationship with my actions. From this place of awareness, I’m enabled more agency.

Practices for orienting toward the collective during exercise:

• Smiling/waving/warm greetings/well wishing6 for those you pass, whether human beings, trees, birds, etc.💓

• Helping one another: inviting a friend/loved one/acquaintance to join you, even if that means same place/same time but different paces/modes of exercise🏃🏻‍♂️🏃🏾‍♀️🏃🏿

• Helping one another pt 2: from cash for the unhoused to helping creatures safely cross the road🐌

• Listening to an audiobook/sermon/dharma talk/etc. which might inspire you to treat yourself and others with kindness🕊️

• Bring a trash bag and glove to collect trash 🚮

• Raising money for charity7

• Running in quietude- mindfully listening to the soundscape of your internal and external environment🎶

• Allowing pause/rest to take in and enjoy the world around🌅

Feel free to use the comments to suggest ideas to include in this list (even if it’s not applicable to running)

Leave a comment

A sneak peak of pt. 2

In part two, I will address the momentous necessity for learning to strike balance between personal and collective wellbeing, and some modes of doing so which I’m actively exploring. I will draw from Kazu Haga’s Fierce Vulnerability, David Viafora’s Thriving Together, and Noura Erakat’s The Boomerang Comes Back. Until then, feel free to indulge in their inspiring bodies of work :)

I trust you’re doing well as you can in this moment in time. If you’re in the northern hemisphere, I hope that spring is beginning to emerge and offer you some joy, whether via daffodils, bird song, budding trees, warmer sunshine, etc.

During the past month, I participated in a month-long silent meditation retreat in the mountains outside of Asheville, NC. It was an absolutely precious time for me, and I don’t have enough words to express my gratitude for the two teachers, Rupert and Kerstin, as well as Southern Dharma Retreat Center. If you ever have an opportunity to receive teachings from them- do it (they all offer shorter-length retreat options)! I’m still processing my time on retreat, but if you’re curious about what this experience was like, feel free to reach out or comment below if you’re interested in a separate blog post devoted to it. Anyhow, now I’m preparing to depart for the Happy Farm at Plum Village in France, where I will spend spring and summer as a “happy farmer”.

While in month-long retreat, I worked my way through Layla F Saad’s profoundly illuminating work- me and white supremacy: Combat Racism, Change the World, and Become a Good Ancestor. Her words and invitations have absolutely changed the way I see myself and our surrounding world, and I feel I’m at the very beginning of learning and practicing how to forge a path grounded in anti-racism. As this is one of the most impactful books I’ve ever read, and with a desire to explore this body of work with community support, I’m hoping to find enough friends + loved ones interested in mutually supporting one another to deepen into these teachings.

Book circle details and sign up

Book:

me and white supremacy: Combat Racism, Change the World, and Become a Good Ancestor by Layla F Saad

You can buy the book online here, or check with a local bookstore :) I recommend to obtain a copy asap so that you can take some time to leaf through and distill whether you do in fact want to participate.

Intention:

To gather beloved community who hold white privilege [who unintentionally and unconsciously perpetuate white supremacy] to horizontally support one another in deep looking, thoughtful, honest, and heartfelt speaking, and curious, deep, and heartful listening.

To foster consciousness of our racialized conditioning, learn to combat racism, and become good ancestors.

Participation is free, so you’re simply invited to offer your time, energy, and care.

Format:

This circle will be held according to The Circle Way guidelines, created by Christina Baldwin and Ann Linnea, to ensure the

When:

Sundays (beginning March 30th) 11am PST/ 2pm EST/ 7pm GMT

Length of circle TBD- likely an hour to an hour and a half, depending on number of participants

Schedule and Book Pacing:

1. March 30, 2025: Introduction and Day 1/ White Privilege

2. April 6, 2025: Days 2 + 3/ White Fragility and Tone Policing

3. April 13, 2025: Days 4 + 5/ White Silence and Superiority

4. April 20, 2025: Days 6 + 7/ White Exceptionalism and Review

5. April 27, 2025: Days 8 + 9/ Color Blindness and Anti-Racism against Black Women

6. May 4, 2025: Days 10 + 11/ Anti-Blackness against Black Men and Black Children

7. May 11, 2025: Days 12 + 13/ Racist Stereotypes and Cultural Appropriation

8. May 18, 2025: Days 14 +15/ Review and White Apathy

9. May 25, 2025: Days 16 + 17/ White Centering and Tokenism

10. June 1, 2025: Days 18 + 19/ White Saviorism and Optical Allyship

11. June 8, 2025: Days 20 + 21/ Being Called Out/Called In and Review

12. June 15, 2025: Days 22 + 23/ White Feminism and White Leaders

13. June 22, 2025: Days 24 + 25/ Your Friends and Family

14. June 29, 2025: Days 26 + 27/ Your Values and Losing Privilege

15. July 6, 2025: Day 28/ Your Commitments

Sign up

Please fill out this short form if you’d like to participate. Once you’re registered, I will share a document with the circle way guidelines, structure of our circle meetings, and the meeting link.

Alternative Resources

Regardless of your participation, thanks for reading this post and considering your relationship with racism and anti-racism.

If you are unable to participate, here are a couple alternative resources:

Racial Justice, Racial Equity, and Anti-Racism Reading List compiled by Harvard Kennedy School

Comrades Education “(formerly White Awake) hosts educational programming, community building, and skill development in service of grassroots, working class, antiracist, and decolonial movements.”

Please know that I’m wishing you the very best, wherever/however this post may find you. If you’re reading this, I imagine you have some level of curiosity about what arose for me in retreat at Plum Village, a Buddhist monastery founded by Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh. The following is a brief offering which I hope conveys some of my experience.

A Glimpse of the Rains Retreat

From October 7th to December 23rd (I left two weeks early as to not overstay my visa), I resided at Plum Village’s Lower Hamlet with about 50 monastic sisters, 21 three month retreatants, and a flowing stream of short-term visitors. In the words of the Plum Village website,

“The 90-day Rains Retreat is an annual retreat whose origins date back to the time of the Buddha. It is a time for monks and nuns to deepen their studies, practice, and focus on building the monastic sangha. In Plum Village, we also welcome lay friends to join us and participate in the 90-days of practice alongside the monastics, either for the entire 90 days, or for one or two weeks. This creates a joyful, community experience, and a time for collective healing and transformation.”

We shared the retreat with the monastics and lay friends who resided nearby at the Upper Hamlet and New Hamlet, with whom we’d practice on Thursdays and Sundays. While every day of the week looked different, common experiences included early morning sitting meditations, silent eating meditations, dharma talks, mindfulness classes, mid-day walking meditations, service meditations, dharma sharing circles1, and evening meditations and chanting. Most often, our days began before dawn and ended in dusk, with periods for rest throughout the day. While I harbored a mild level of sleepy-induced disdain for the cold, early mornings, I also found them fresh and enlivening- to be connected to and in relation with the night sky and morning air. Some mornings were especially wondrous and breath-taking, whether with vivid, dazzling stars, a radiant moon, shooting stars, or a vibrant enlightening sky. Reflecting back, I feel the absence of what a relation with the skies evoked in me.

Before the retreat, I assumed that in nearly three months time I might achieve some level of sustained meditative/mindful concentration, and that I might experience moments of seeing beyond an illusive self and feel the reality of interbeing. In reality, I mostly cultivated awareness of the brevity of mindful moments I experienced. In our classes, about the five mindfulness trainings or Buddhist psychology, we were encouraged to cultivate “mere awareness”- simply (or not so simply) to recognize what is going on within and around us and to note it. For example, something like “This ___________2 is present...and I’m aware it’s present :)”. I included the smiley face because we were invited by Venerable Sister Jina to actually pat ourselves on the back whenever we noticed what we were experiencing, a technique for not over-judging the experience aka being too hard on ourselves, and to rather correlate mindfulness with care and tolerance. So, while I can’t report any enlightened breakthroughs, I was able to at least bring some more intentional awareness of what was alive within and around me. Below, I will share some themes of practice which correlated to feelings that arose in me, which I wanted to make space for and explore.

Recurring themes/observations of my experience:

• My relationship with ancestors and family members and cultivating awareness of:

  • Impermanence/preciousness of these embodied relations

  • Interbeing- seeing and feeling my ancestors/loved ones in me and me in them (via genetics, shared experience, influence, etc.)

  • Causes and conditions which have contributed to forming each being

    • Encouraging my curiosity, imagination, and willingness to learn about what my loved ones have been molded by

    • Endeavoring to show up with openness, to give rise to my understanding and compassion.

• My complicity in upholding white supremacy and racism

  • Being a silent bystander of and accomplice in genocide, violence, and oppression

  • Aspiration to bear witness to global violence3, be with/observe/take care of arising feelings, and (learn how to) take action.

• How I eat, as a manifestations of how my ancestors/communities/culture eat

  • Implications on the physical and mental health of myself, those around me, and those we are all inextricably bound with via interbeing/interconnection [implications on the wellbeing of Earth/earthly systems].

  • Disordered/disembodied eating, hyper-concern and judgment with quantity/quality consumed

With these themes I’ve noticed within me, I’m trying to bring mindful attention to them, rather than mental proliferation about “what to do about them”. To engage steadily and sustainably. I don’t have insights or solutions to share. Instead, I hope to share authenticity of what’s arising for me and how I’m learning to look more deeply. Which brings me to sharing some resources which touched me during retreat.

Recommended resources from my experience of the Rains Retreat:

Books

• America’s Racial Karma by Dr. Larry Ward

• We Were Made for These Times: Ten Lessons for Moving Through Change, Loss, and Disruption by Kaira Jewel Lingo

• The Deepest Peace: Contemplations from a Season of Stillness by Zenju Earthlyn Manuel4

Dharma Talks

• Br. Phap Linh- Your Desire For Wealth Is So Boring! Could Your Wishes Be More Beautiful? (This was one of my favorites, however I’m not sure the title entirely captures it’s scope).

• Sr. True Dedication- Is the West Denaturalizing Buddhism?

• Sr. Chan Duc- Here is the Pure Land: Understanding Conditioned Co-Arising

• Sr. Hoi Nghiem- Birth And Death Are Illusions, But Parting Is Still Painful

• Dharma Talks of Thich Nhat Hanh from the 2012/2013 Rains Retreat

• All other Dharma talks shared in the 2024/2025 Rain’s Retreat can be found here

Concluding invitation

• How do you feel after reading this? Are there correlating sensations in your body?

However you may feel after reading this post, I would like to affirm what you feel and express my gratitude for my relationship with you. Whether you’re a dear family member, previous co-worker, friend for life, acquaintance, classmate, etc., thank you for caring about my experience and for co-creating this precious world of ours. Please feel free to share with me any feelings, concerns, inspiration, resources, etc.

With love,

Anna

Summer

Beginning in June, my body and mind acclimated to the seemingly endless tasks of pepper, summer squash, and tomato harvesting, as well as the repetitive and ceaseless weeding. I devoted myself to watering plants amid days of fluctuating heat, experienced the excited buzz of the Nashville farmer’s market, and faced the always overloaded and unabated list of summer’s tasks. At home, I tried my hand at canning and preserving summer’s bounty, resulting in a freezer filled with tomato sauces and an untouched shelf of pickles (which I’m admittedly too afraid to eat due to the mystery of botulism). I cooked and baked with a passionate connection to the food at hand, sharing meaningful meals with roommates and co-workers. Most importantly, I warmed up to those I farm alongside, reaping farming knowledge, life advice, and recipes from kind, down-to-earth, inspiring folks. It was a beautiful first summer of farming which, to my surprise, gradually and here and there came to an end.

Fall

Instead of following a distinct seasonal pattern, fall felt like a period of erratic oscillations. Amid a spectrum of frosts and heat, we germinated winter crops in the greenhouse, cleared beds and tunnels of summer’s remnants, amended the soils, transplanted thousands of winter crops to their designated places, sowed cover-crops, collected underwhelming amounts of chestnuts (due to late spring frosts), unearthed sweet potatoes, and buried garlic cloves. Emerging from the extreme hustle and bustle of summer, I had the opportunity to attend a week-long course outside of Havana focused on campesino a campesino (farmer-to-farmer) methodologies for advancing agroecological practices. Connecting and collaborating with a global network of farmers, I gained insights into facilitating grassroots farmer-to-farmer exchanges. Back at home, it's no surprise that kitchen shenanigans were in full swing, with carrot cake, sweet potato bread, and apple muffins being commonly baked and enjoyed. While fall was undoubtedly a period of continuous daily learning, I also grew increasingly confident in farm tasks and felt more settled amid the familiar routines, people, and landscape.

Caraflex cabbage and okonomiyaki

In my initial weeks on the farm, my co-workers introduced me to caraflex cabbage, a conical variety known for its sweet and buttery taste. Having little prior experience with cooking cabbage, I sought their advice on its preparation and, armed with their recommendations, embarked on culinary experimentation. I came across a recipe for roasted cabbage with miso butter1, and ever since, I’ve been an unwavering caraflex cabbage devotee. I indulged in cabbage daily for weeks until it momentarily vanished from both the field and the fridge. Rather than lamenting its absence, I eagerly contributed to seeding approximately 30 trays of caraflex, what would become over 2,000 mature plants. Before I knew it, the beloved vegetable was back in my life.

Inspired by the local Nashville restaurant Xiao Bao, my new favorite way to enjoy caraflex is in an okonomiyaki-like style. Since okonomi translates to “to one’s liking”, I’ve had fun crafting my easy, tasty take on these Japanese cabbage pancakes. While the delicious, authentic pancakes features ingredients like seaweed, bonito flakes, eggs, and pork, I simplify it with whatever is on hand. Typically, I shred the cabbage and toss it with olive oil and salt on a baking sheet, and ensure its not too dense to allow for my preferred level of crispiness. Baking it at 450 F, I toss it at what I’ve intuited as half-way through, and remove from the oven when its crispy and slightly burnt. I plate it, drizzle with mayo and sriracha, and garnish with farm-fresh scallions. It couldn’t be more beloved to me.

While there’s currently little I love more than this dish, I must issue a warning for those that undertake to recreate it. My affection this vegetable is inevitably intertwined with the countless hours I’ve spent seeding, planting, watering, weeding, harvesting, processing, cooking, and sharing it. My experience affirms my belief that the utmost secret to any dish lies in the prerequisite relationship with the ingredients. So, perhaps a truer recipe is as follows:

Caraflex cabbage- to embark on the delightful journey of relational eating

Ingredients

• Seeds: I’ve found them at Johnny’s and High Mowing. If you need help obtaining seeds, feel free to reach out to me :)

• Healthy soil: perhaps at home, in community gardens, or in collaboration/as a trial with your very own local farmer. If you haven’t gardened before, I strongly recommend learning at first among others (more fun, less responsibility/ time commitment).

• Sunlight: direct sow caraflex seeds when daytime soil temps warm to 75°F, or start indoors or in a greenhouse.

• Water

• Follow precise guidance based on your own hardiness growing zone

Enjoy!

Come and enjoy fall, and fall’s apples, in the mountains of Tennessee!

You are warmly invited to stay at our family cabin home outside of Chattanooga, Tennessee September 29th through October 1st. Here, we can gather for a nourishing weekend amid the fall foliage centered around all things apples. We will learn about the beloved practice of growing apples, interspersed with sharing meals, cooking and baking together, and enjoying the peace of nature. Our apple education will take form through touring our nearest sustainable apple orchard, Wheeler’s Orchard, and experientially learning how to plant and care for apple trees as we do so here at our home. There will also be downtime for whatever is needed, such as sipping apple cider, napping, or roaming in the woods. If you would like to take part, please check out this form with the proposed schedule and registration (the form will close once we’ve filled our capacity for accommodations). The suggested donation for the weekend is $30 ($15 toward the farm tour and $15 toward groceries). I hope to see you there! If you have any questions, feel free to email me at intereatingblog@gmail.com.

Other announcements

This month’s book club read is by the beloved Tallu Schuyler-Quinn, founder of the Nashville Food Project. Her book, What We Wish Were True: Reflections on Nurturing Life and Facing Death, details her grappling with terminal illness and is filled with touching chapters which showcase her reverence for life in all it’s mundaneness. Her love of food, specifically the modes of growing/cooking/and sharing, is weaved throughout the chapters, and with the closeness of death she uniquely elucidates the powers of food in furthering empowerment, unity, intimacy, and beyond. Her book can be enjoyed short chapter at a time, or even indulged in the course of a day. We will meet via Google Meet the last Sunday of August, August 26th, at 6pm EST to virtually commune and discuss.

This past weekend, I had the sentimental opportunity to throw a surprise picnic for one of my best friend’s bachelorette celebrations. I had the loveliest time waking up early Saturday morning to attend the Forsyth Farmer’s Market, perusing the countless farm booths and discovering produce galore- peaches, berries, peanuts, asparagus, basil, tomatoes, carrots, lima beans, bread, honey, flowers, and far beyond. The cherry on top of having all this delicious food to prepare and enjoy was the opportunity to support and connect with local farmers- the pillars of our communities. They tend to our environments and the human and non-human beings which inhabit them, and therefore, buying their products with happiness and gratitude is such a heart-warming exchange and an unparalleled beginning to a day.

Luckily, I was able to enlist my mom’s assistance with the picnic, and little did I know the extent to which she would become involved. She called me the night before to say that she’d swing by an organic farm down the road from her before coming over to help me set up everything. I doubted I needed anything that I wouldn’t find at the market, but I figured two things: that it was rather sweet that my mom came up with and was excited about an organic farm visit and that the more farms we can support the better.

While I was at the farmer’s market, my mom called me. She was at Green Bridge Farm but arrived too early, and there was not yet a harvest. She rushedly recounted to me the carrots, squash, kale, onions, and more abundant in the garden before she cut herself off and said that she had to hang up to help with the harvest. Two hours later, she showed up with a basket full of self-harvested produce. I experienced a proud daughter moment. Farmer Michael wanted to give her the produce for free as a thank-you for her help with the morning harvest, but she insisted on paying for his exquisite produce. That said, for anyone in the Savannah area I just read on Facebook that Michael needs help with weeding and that he will exchange a basket of produce for an hour of weeding assistance. For anyone wanting to get outside and feel connected to your community and environment, maybe there are farms in your vicinity that need an extra hand and are willing to trade you yummy food to reciprocate your efforts :)

While I finished preparing the picnic meal, my mom went ahead to Forsyth Park to set the scene. It was fun and sweet to join creative forces with activities which bring us joy to celebrate a life milestone for a dear friend.

Savannah Biscuits

I woke up this morning with a calling to make southern biscuits, the undertaking which first acquainted me with baking. For years, I’ve enjoyed mixing kitchen staples to create this star of southern cuisine (my favorite way to make them is with a honey-butter orange glaze). When I told my mom about my idea to make biscuits for breakfast, she was more excited than I imagined. She told me she had passed by Back in the Day Bakery, Savannah’s quintessential brick-and-mortar for traditional biscuits, and somehow became fast friends with a couple outside the store. When they all went into the shop together, she heard the man comment about how the biscuits looked like his. Greatly intrigued, my mom inquired about his biscuit recipe and was astonished when he began to share it with her from memory. Thankfully she took notes, so today I made some of the best biscuits I’ve ever made, all thanks to Back in the Day and its patrons.

Recipes

Soba noodle salad felt like a perfect main for using the seasonal selections at the farmers market. With a base of soba noodles and soy sauce, basically anything else can be added to it.

Ingredients (*denotes a farmers market product):

• Buckwheat soba noodles (naturally gluten-free)

• Shredded carrots*

• Sautéed peppers

• Lima beans*

• Peanuts*

• Green onions*

• Grated Ginger*

• Cilantro*

• Lime

• Soy sauce

• Oil

For biscuits, set the oven to 425F. Mix the dry ingredients together, and then the butter followed by the buttermilk. For shaping the biscuits, my grandmother taught me to use a glass to make cut outs from the dough :)

• A stick of butter, cubed and frozen for 15 minutes

• 2 cups of all purpose flour

• 2 tbsp baking powder

• 1/4 tsp baking soda

• 1/2 tsp salt

• 1 cup of buttermilk (I use non-dairy milk, like soy or oat, with a tbsp of lemon juice or apple cider vinegar)

I hope you enjoy these ideas, and that you have a lovely week!

With love,

Anna

For Songkran (Thai New Year), I experienced the beauty of this celebration from Thai Plum Village, a mindfulness practice center established by Vietnamese peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh. It was lovely to meet new friends and practice Thich Nhat Hanh’s, or Thay’s, teachings among sangha, community. Beginning our days before dawn, around 4:30 am, I sleepily sat in the hall as Buddhist chants and rising dawns washed over me. At 7 am, walking meditation around the Thai Plum Village grounds amid the sunrise finally delivered my proper awakening. From then on our days consisted of delicious and silent meals, various dharma talks, total relaxation (literally nap time with lullabies), sports, singing, and meditation. For Songkran, we had a beautiful water ceremony one dawn and an alms round, a way for laypeople to express gratitude for monastic practice by sharing food. Overall, everything was incredibly wholesome; I felt as if a kindergartener at camp. The experience was a perfect introduction to life at Plum Village.

Taking the five mindfulness trainings

On our last day, we awoke at 4 am to hold a ceremony for those who chose to accept the five mindfulness trainings, based off of the five precepts in Buddhism. The trainings serve as a foundation for compassionate, mindfulness practice. The Plum Village website describes the mindfulness trainings with the following statement:

Over the retreat, I observed the positive attributes of abiding by these intentions and I chose to receive the trainings in ceremony. As a recipient, I am to renew my dedication to the following trainings among other practitioners every three months. The following section shares the five mindfulness trainings [reverence for life, true happiness, true love, loving speech and deep listening, and nourishment and healing] directly from the Plum Village tradition.

The five mindfulness trainings:

Reverence for life

True happiness

True love

Loving speech and deep listening

Nourishment and healing

For the source of these teachings and more information about them, you can visit the Plum Village website.

Book recommendations

For anyone curious about Plum Village and Thich Nhat Hanh’s teachings, I have been especially touched by the following six books which I would heartily recommend:

Peace is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life

As my first introduction to Thich Nhat Hanh, it is a piece I nostalgically recommend to anyone unfamiliar with his works. As an anxious college freshman, this book brought some peace and respite. I remember calling my dear Aunt Suzy and telling her about my book discovery, only to learn that this is one of her favorites! The book inspires how to cultivate mindfulness and peace with the mundane, like walking, drinking tea, and washing the dishes.

Living Buddha Living Christ

Growing up in the Bible Belt, I appreciated this book demonstrating the harmony between Christianity and Buddhism and how a person can practice both. Rather than engaging in religious fundamentalism, Thay focuses on essential commonalities, cultivating inter-faith tolerance and understanding. No matter our own spiritual practices, religious tolerance and understanding are necessary cultivations for members of a wide world, and this book is a resource for easefully abetting this cause.

Fragrant Palm Leaves: Journals, 1962-1966

This book was a sweet gift from a friend and mentor. I took this when moving to a frigid Massachusetts and found Thay’s writing insightfully uplifting. As his journals depict his experiences living in Vietnam and New York, he shared his deep love and affinity for Vietnam’s culture and environment while still appreciative of New England’s beauties. I finished the second half of this book at Thai Plum Village, and I felt grateful to read about Thay’s love of Vietnam in a closer and akin environment.

Call Me By My True Names: The Collected Poems of Thich Nhat Hanh

As someone with difficulty comprehending and enjoying poetry, I was happy to make it through this book with ease. Not only that, but I experienced heartfelt resonance with numerous poems. Therefore, I can recommend this piece to poetry and non-poetry lovers alike.

The Art of Communicating

This book is lovely for fostering understanding and compassion in our relationships and displaying these through communication and listening. Skillful communication deeply enriches our relationships, and this book is an inspiring resource to commit to this undertaking.

How to Eat

This book offers short excerpts for cultivating appreciation and happiness with our eating practices. This book is helpful for anyone wanting to slow down to enjoy their food (and beyond). This will be the May’s reading selection for Intereating book club. A free digital copy can be found here. Don’t forget to sign up for book club so I can keep you in the loop about our meetings, on the last Sunday of each month at 6pm EST.

Being in nature

Each day, I wake up to a chilly morning, intense birdsong, and a brightening sky, which I sit in the heart of during morning meditation. Then, I water a few plants that I have tended to during my stay. I make tea with well water prepared by whoever kindly boils it before I ever make it to the kitchen. I venture into the garden to harvest lettuce and cut papaya for breakfast. After breakfast, we garden under the increasing heat of the sun and rest in the shade during the afternoon. When we cook, we tend the fire and dodge the tear-inciting smoke. Without a fridge, we cook intentionally, and leftovers become compost or food for ducks and chickens. After dinner, the vocal tokay gecko is ever-present for evening meditation. This is a small glimpse of how our daily life is entirely permeated by our connection with nature.

Growing, making, and sharing food

Gardening cultivates foundational qualities of the heart. To weed or start a plant from seed beckons patience and dedication. It is an exquisite caretaking process where we may witness the inevitability of reciprocity. To plant a seed, nourish it with soil, warmth, and water, and watch it grow over time, is a tangible outcome of our caring effort. Our efforts return our nourishment as we harvest, create with, and share the earth's offerings. Reveling in this delight with others while gardening, cooking, and eating is an unparalleled gift, one to sustain our very caretaking efforts.

Connecting with community

Closeness is prone to arise when living, working, cooking, and eating with others. For instance, how sweet it is to collaborate for our meals, with some of us cooking and others setting the scene, to sit and enjoy each other's company. To enjoy tasty food, tell stories, sing songs, and pass around a guitar is a novelty.

Cultivating spirituality

Difficulty and pain are unavoidable, just like ease and happiness, so spiritual practice is essential for tending to our equanimity and compassion. Gentle evening meditations are fertile ground for planting seeds of wisdom, supporting our groundedness throughout our experiences. Together, we meditate, followed by teachings from Pi Nan, Mindful Farm's farmer and retired monk. His teachings are relatable and accessible, which enables resonate understanding. For instance, he has used the example of a fruit tree, which we have undoubtedly reaped the benefits of while at Mindful Farm, to portray the indiscriminate generosity and impermanence that is likewise our nature. So in the following days, biting into fresh bananas and papayas becomes more enjoyable and meaningful. Spiritual practice and everyday practice become inseparable.

Collaboratively furthering grander causes

The previous cultivations enable us to care about and take wise action to further better livelihoods. During my stay, Pi Nan met with the other farmers in his district to collectively pursue the cause of planting more trees to mitigate Thailand’s formidable air pollution. The local farmers also discussed their devotion to sustaining a self-sufficient farming economy, so everyone can meet their basic needs while not exploiting nature’s limitations. This collective aspiration and action is inspiring beyond words.

Thank you, Mindful Farm, for a beautiful, insightful experience. I’m immensely grateful.

Eating

• Where do I begin? Bananas, banana shakes, bananas in coconut milk, banana curry, and banana tempura. It’s an impossible task, but I’m still attempting to get bananas out of my system before they become an imported novelty. Also, I’m enjoying papaya, tomato, lettuce, cabbage, Japanese sweet potato, zucchini, coconut, and pumpkin.

Creating

• Pesto- perhaps my all-time favorite sauce to concoct. It transcends locality, therefore I’ve had the pleasure of making unique versions around the world. It involves a simple venture into a garden for a selection of mild and herby greens to combine with pantry staples.

• Green curry bean burgers with teriyaki sauce.

• Pumpkin coconut custard, from fresh pumpkin puree and fresh coconut meat. I enjoyed innovating a dish from what I could find in the garden and village. And processing the coconut was a full-body workout.

Reading

• The Art of Communicating by Thich Nhat Hanh. In preparation for a meditation retreat at Thai Plum Village!

• Still thinking about The One-Straw Revolution by Masanobu Fukuoka, April’s Intereating book club selection. Register to join the book club here.

Today, Pi Nan, the Buddhist farmer hosting travelers at his Mindful Farm, offered me a machete and led me into the depths of his biodiverse permaculture forest. As we arrived at the base of a banana tree, my eyes scanned up to a cluster of little, green and golden bananas. It felt surreal as I watched my favorite fruit fall from sky to earth as I hacked the banana tree's limb. Pi Nan cradled the cluster back to the kitchen.

In addition to the banana harvest, today I foraged for cherry tomatoes of golden and rosy hues until only hard, mostly green tomatoes remained, and my fingers were sticky with viny fragrance. I helped wash and prepare lettuce and carried their heads, preserved with banana leaves, in a plastic crate through farm fields, over a creek via a bamboo bridge, and finally to a truck headed to Bangkok. Then, I moved rocks from one spot to another until a lunch bell invited me to rest. It is simple, varied, and beautiful tasks like these that grace my mornings.

Eating

A vignette of last night's dinner:

• Piadina (rustic Italian flatbread) with crushed tomato, garlic, onion, and rosemary: a collaboration between an Italian and Belgian.

• Vegan karaage with teriyaki sauce: a creation by a Japanese family.

• Som tum (papaya salad): a gift from Pi Nan’s aunt who gardens at the farm.

• Garden fresh lettuce and cherry tomatoes with a peanut ginger dressing: what I remember of my American peanut noodle escapades.

• Gang buad faktong (pumpkin in coconut milk): by Pi Nan

I was enjoying each creation in isolation until the Belgian beside me became effervescent regarding the fusion of flavors she was experiencing. She fashioned her plate like a flatbread sandwich, with the karaage, teriyaki sauce, and salad enveloped by the piadina. The papaya salad became the sandwich’s compliment, and the pumpkin in coconut milk offered a sweet resolution. This meal felt once-in-a-lifetime, and I reveled in each bite.

Our ingredients are limited and grounded in Thai staples and our harvest- recently pumpkin, eggplant, papaya, banana, coconut, tomato, and lettuce. Often, I am not sure what dishes to prepare with our ingredients. Nevertheless, each guest’s culture-inspired culinary understandings come to play with the gifts of Thailand, and together we enjoy a global-inspired, locally-grown feast.

Meditation

Nightly, we gather for sitting meditation and a Buddhist dharma lesson from Pi Nan. Overhead (on the roof), a lengthy tokay gecko consistently serenades our sitting. After last night’s dinner, Pi Nan shared his understanding of good and bad karma, like seeds we can plant. He relayed that good karma is based in gratitude and bad karma in non-gratitude. Being grateful cultivates a disposition for enjoying the good of life. He offered possibilities of gratitude: for our parents, loved ones, or teachers, as well as mountains, trees, and food we eat. I feel resonate with these lessons as I deepen into a joyful planting of lettuce seeds, delighting in the delicious creations of my companions, or wishing my mom were still in Thailand to enjoy alongside me. What a gift it is to visit Mindful Farm.

The month of March has distilled a theme of eating with my mom. On March 6th, my mom and I set off for three weeks in Cambodia and Thailand, which has just concluded. As extended periods with a parent can sometimes be a cause for concern, I have been surprised by how easeful our time together has been. I have even savored it. This savoring of our time together has been encouraged through a perspective of impermanence, of the likelihood of never again being 22 and 60 and experiencing all we presently are, while exploring Southeast Asia together. The practice of savoring has arisen through the evocative nature of sharing meals- extended periods of enjoying flavorful, unique dishes and allowing communication, understanding, and connection to emerge.

For this March’s Intereating book club, we read Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. At the age of 25, Zauner lost her mother to cancer, and her narrative navigates the complexities of coming into adulthood and being a daughter. She reckons with the brevity of their relationship and her own Korean identity. She uncovers how food has been a nurturing force between the pair- a manifestation of their unconditional love. Beyond death, food connects Zauner to her mother and her Koreanness.

In an interview with the Today Show, the hosts asked Zauner about her favorite reactions to her book. She responded she couldn’t ask for a better response than when someone finishes the book and calls their mother. As I have listened to Zauner unearth these realizations, I have looked at this opportunity to travel with my mom with increasing awareness of impermanence and emergent gratitude.

In these weeks, we enjoyed delicious meals and expanded our appetite for Thai food. We also discovered our new favorite tourist activity: cooking classes. We’ve taken three classes together, and my mom took her fourth yesterday evening at a farm in Chiang Mai. Simultaneously, I pondered how to politely bribe the restaurant I dined at in Nakhon Phanom to teach me the secret to their fried rice. Anyway, we have bonded in our love of all things food and found pleasure in brainstorming how to expand our food practices when we return home. It feels like a gift to share this mutual passion and support one another in pursuit of honoring it.

I am looking forward to returning home to Chattanooga and helping one another flourish through the mutual understanding we have cultivated. At times it can feel far from easy to be accepting and understanding. Nevertheless, it appears to be an utmost and worthwhile endeavor to relish opportunities we have to learn from, support, and enjoy one another. Mom, get ready to put all these Thai recipes into action.

Eating

Vietnamese fried rice, Massaman curry, and mango sticky rice. My absolute favorite this week has been Vietnamese crepes [bánh xèo].

Reading

The One-Straw Revolution by Masanobu Fukuoka, our April book club selection which I’ve just finished. The summary:

Fukuoka demonstrates how the way we look at farming influences the way we look at health, the school, nature, nutrition, spiritual health and life itself. He joins the healing of the land to the process of purifying the human spirit and proposes a way of life and a way of farming in which such healing can take place.

Here is a free PDF copy from the Soil and Health Library.

For thousands of years, rice has been an over-arching theme in Cambodia. Whether visiting ancient temples or biking the countryside, rice is an inescapable manifestation of Cambodia’s history and culture. The following is what I learned from my week in Siem Reap.

Essential Cambodian History

Arriving in Cambodia, I had basically zero knowledge of the country. It wasn’t long before I learned about the Cambodian genocide, something I don’t recall from my schooling. From 1965 to 1973, the United States dropped nearly three millions tons of bombs on Cambodia. This tactic, used to stifle Vietnamese use of the Ho Chi Minh Trail during the Vietnam War, was devastating for Cambodians. The country was already entrenched in civil war, the Cambodian monarchy against the Cambodian communists, as income inequality pitted the urban against the rural. With a low estimate of 250,000 civilian deaths, US bombing fueled the civil war as the Cambodian communists, the Khmer Rouge, “use the bombing’s killing and destruction as recruitment propaganda and as an excuse for the abandonment of moderate socialist policies in the insurgent zones”. Essentially, US bombing empowered the Khmer Rouge to take over in 1975, which incited the Cambodian genocide.

Lasting for four years (between 1975 and 1979), the Cambodian Genocide was an explosion of mass violence that saw between 1.5 and 3 million people killed at the hands of the Khmer Rouge, a communist political group. The Khmer Rouge had taken power in the country following the Cambodian Civil War. During their brutal four-year rule, the Khmer Rouge was responsible for the deaths of nearly a quarter of Cambodians.

The Cambodian Genocide was the result of a social engineering project by the Khmer Rouge, attempting to create a classless agrarian society.

Source: The University of Minnesota: Holocaust and Genocide Studies

For executions, the Khmer Rouge targeted doctors, lawyers, and teachers, and even people with glasses or light-skin (which were assumed to be signs of prestige). They forced city dwellers to the countryside to be farmers and killed anyone who couldn’t comply, like old women, young children, and hospital patients. Those who survived the forced evacuations worked in the rice fields and dug trenches. Children of Cambodia’s Killing Fields by Teeda Butt Mam is a short first-hand account published by the New York Times which I would recommend to anyone wanting to get a brief sense of what it was like to survive through these atrocities. The Paris Agreement was finally implemented in 1991 which stabilized the country and opened it up to the world.

Tourism seems like an essential industry in Cambodia, at the very least an industry which a lot of Cambodians at present depend upon. People seem drawn to visit Cambodia for the unique offerings of the ancient Khmer empire and Angkor Wat, various Buddhist and Hindu temples, startling aforementioned 20th century events, breathtaking landscapes, phenomenal food, and a beautiful and resilient culture. I’ve been grateful for the opportunity, however brief and limited, to experience this place and it’s people.

Biking the Countryside

Just a few minutes from downtown Siem Reap, rice fields begin to sprawl. On a guided bike tour, we saw expansive rice fields, vegetable gardens, mushroom farms, and lotus farms. We also visited a local market and rice wine distillery. My favorite part of the tour was enjoying the peacefulness of the countryside and witnessing how connected Cambodians are to their agriculture. With the latter point, when people are connected to their agriculture it makes sense that plentiful rice translates to eating rice three times a day. Cambodians and their diets are harmonious with what they grow and is found around them.

Cooking Khmer-Style

My mom and I enjoyed a Khmer-style cooking class. It was a lot of fun to be assisted in the kitchen with people so knowledgeable and fond of their cuisine. They had a home garden growing beside the outdoor kitchen where we helped prepared our meal, and I relished making curry paste with plants growing just a few feet from me. As a proponent of local and ethical eating, it was exceptionally novel to savor bananas, mangoes, coconut milk, and cashews with peace of mind. Between eating my favorite novelties, sourcing food locally, supporting local growers and chefs, and cooking and eating alongside my mom, this experience was quadruply yummy.

Blog Updates

Intereating will now post twice a week: Mondays and Fridays. On Mondays, I will provide a kind of narrative update on what’s present in my life. With whatever I write about, I’ll share the recipes and readings that I find inspiring at that moment. For Fridays, my goal is to have y’all writing and sharing your wisdoms. Yes, you. I know that it’s a daunting task, however, it’s worthwhile to work with and through that hesitation to recognize and honor your inherent wisdom, to share with and feel connected to others. So begin brainstorming what you want to write about, an experience, a favorite recipe, a concept, etc., and get in touch!

Eating

Over the past week, I’ve enjoyed various curries, spring rolls, and cashew-nut stir-fries. Here is an Amok style vegan curry to bring a taste of Cambodia to your kitchen. This curry is essentially what I learned to make in our cooking class.

Reading

1. I just finished Crying in H-Mart by Michelle Zauner. In her book, Zauner details the heart-wrenching complexities of losing her mother as a young adult, and how food is the force binding them in life and death. It is a phenomenal composition of love, and one of my new favorite books. This is our Intereating bookclub’s March selection, so feel free to join us March 26th at 6pm eastern time.

2. Check out my lastest inspiration, Alicia Kennedy, and her breadth of knowledge regarding culinary tourism.

   From the Desk of Alicia Kennedy

   On Culinary Tourism

   For the next few months, I’ll be teaching a class on culinary tourism for Boston University’s masters of gastronomy program. In the interest of open(ish) access, I wanted to publish my lectures and reading lists. These will be complemented with class discussion of the readings and viewings, my lectures, and the work of the students, as well as a class t…

   Read more

   3 years ago · 81 likes · 30 comments · Alicia Kennedy

By the time I reached my teenage years, however, my outlook on exercise (and my physical appearance) changed. I began to feel burdened by exercise, especially when I ate something I considered unhealthy. I began to exercise not because I enjoyed it, but because I felt the need to conform to society’s standards of how my body should look. Exercise, far too often, became a self-inflicted punishment. 

This unhealthy relationship with food and exercise has ebbed and flowed throughout my life until rather recently. I have spent the last 4 months living and working in Nakhon Phanom, Thailand as an English and Math teacher. While I expected this experience to be life-changing, I did not expect my time in Thailand to introduce me to a form of exercise I enjoyed so much. 

Experience with Yoga in the US and Thailand

Throughout high school, my best friend Anna and I tried our hands at yoga. We would take advantage of the 30 day intro specials at the various yoga studios around our hometown of Savannah, GA. Unfortunately, yoga was not friendly to a high school student’s wallet, so our venture into yoga did not last long.

Conversely, yoga (and basically everything) in Thailand is much less expensive. Upon arriving in the city of Nakhon Phanom, I knew absolutely no one. Being a rather extroverted person, I was eager to befriend local Thai people, so I checked to see if there was a yoga studio close to me. Luckily for me, there was! I showed up for my first yoga class in early December, and have been continuously welcomed ever since. 

I have written a lot of gratitude lists while living in Thailand, so it seems fitting to make a list with the reasons yoga has become such a big part of my life here: 

1. Although all of the classes are in Thai, all of the women make an effort to help and communicate with me. 

2. The yoga instructor/studio owner, Oradee (nickname: Pu) has become a close friend of mine. She has helped me immensely in adapting to life here. Being a non-Thai speaker in an area where English is not widely spoken has proven to be humbling and challenging. Having such a caring friend like Pu who speaks both English and Thai has been a huge blessing to me. 

3. After my first class, Pu invited me to dinner, and it has become a habit to share meals together following our yoga practice. I have gotten to try countless Thai foods that I would have no idea how to order otherwise. 

   

4. So many of the people I know and the connections I have in Nakhon Phanom are because of yoga. 

5. In the US, the yoga classes I have attended tend to be quiet, and can be a bit intimidating to a beginner. I have found the opposite to be true of yoga classes at my local studio here. The classes are made up mostly of middle-age women who have gotten to know each other practicing yoga together. Before class starts, the room is full of laughter and chatter. Throughout the yoga practice, the women continue to laugh and cheer each other on as they try new poses. Regardless of my lack of yoga skill and flexibility, the women encourage and support me too. Classes are social while at the same time reflective. 

   

6. Practicing yoga in Thailand has not just been a way to exercise, but a way to build community. 

My experience with yoga in Thailand has allowed me to find exercise I truly enjoy. I go to yoga because it feels good to my body, not to change my body. There has been a definite positive shift in my mindset towards exercise as well as my physical appearance.

I believe that the beauty and uniqueness of my body reflects the beauty of my Creator. My time in Thailand has led me to discover that yoga is a communal way to healthily move and celebrate this beautiful body God has given me. I think that young Caroline who didn’t think twice about how her body looked would be proud. 

For the second time in my life, I visited Cuba, the country in which my mom’s parents spent half their lives before immigrating to the United States after the Cuban Revolution. As an American with Cuban heritage, so much of my Cuban identity feels elusive, perhaps by an imbalance of my dominant American experiences coupled with Cuba’s secludedness. With my grandparents passing away over a decade ago, this elusive Cubanness lives on through nebulous memories of them and their lasting influence on my mom, as well as other infrequent manifestations- like Cuban people or food. Though my Cuban identity feels obscured, I know it’s essential to uncover it. I know this by how tears fill my eyes when a Cuban woman caresses my face like my Abuela (grandmother) did, when I stop dead in my tracks upon the sound of Cielito Lindo (Abuela’s favorite song), or when I eat black beans and plantains that taste just like her’s. Through connecting to what remains of my childhood best friend, I am trying to uncover the parts of myself she fostered which have remained unstoked since her death.

Beyond uncovering my heritage, Cuban culture is important to investigate as the country and its people uniquely grapple with governance, social justice, food security, poverty, climate change, and beyond. The manners through which Cubans engage and survive these situations is inspiring and noteworthy- as globally, and increasingly direct to our experience, we further approach social and environmental unravellings. Perhaps by paying attention to Cuba, we can be inspired into taking action.

I think that Cuban food is an exceptional manifestation of Cuban culture. Tasting Cuban food, we can learn about love as food- nourishing family, neighbors, and the land. We may also become more receptive to scarcity, inequality, and suppression- of struggle, solidarity, persistence, and innovation. This article will discuss some beauties and limitations of Cuban culture, like agroecology or machismo, and ground them in staples of Cuban cuisine, like rice and beans and cake1. I hope that making these recipes, tasting their flavors, and hearing the stories behind them will enliven our connection to and inspiration from this Caribbean country.

Agroecology and Pumpkin Soup

The Special Period is a term used to characterize the fall of the Soviet Union and the concurrent economic crisis which commenced in Cuba. Cuban imports fell drastically, including food and agricultural implements. To survive, Cuban farmers were forced to pursue and escalate organic, local agriculture, which spawned the country’s acclaimed agroecology movement. Agroecology’s preeminence is attributed to the campesino a campesino movement, otherwise described as farmer-to-farmer grassroots empowerment. Agroecology and farmer-to-farmer movements are critical to food security and food sovereignty as people are more sustainably empowered with the agency to positively affect their communities.

On my first visit to Cuba in 2018, I visited La Finca Agroecologica el Paraiso in Viñales. At this farm, rabbit manure fertilizes crops, terraced beds prevent soil erosion, and intercropping protects from soil depletion and pests.

The farm is run by father and daughter duo Rachel and Wilfredo; Wilfredo tends the land and Rachel runs the family restaurant where much of the farm’s produce is put to use. They host young people and tourists, introducing them to the basics of agroecology and farm-to-table practices. The practices La Finca Agroecologica el Paraiso demonstrates exemplify what it can look like to survive and flourish amid adversity and bleakness- essential lessons for our ecological and social crises.

Cuba’s agroecology movement is a work in progress. According to Leidy Casimiro Rodríguez, Cuban farmer and agroecologist, a necessity of Cuba’s continued agroecological transition is to recognize the indispensable understandings women and minorities embody, and empower them with the agency to advance their knowledge2. Implemented, this call to action could positively reform the food system and entrenched social structures.

PUMPKIN SOUP / SOPA DE CALABAZA

My first encounter with Cuban gourds was a few years ago when a Cuban friend of my mom’s gifted her a squash, grown from Cuban seeds, from their family garden. The squash was easily the length of my torso. If my memory serves me correctly, part of the abundant squash I used for making soup. I forgot about this until I delighted in sopa de calabaza in Havana, and my friend and I reveled in the delicious flavors. It slipped my mind to inquire about their recipe, however, I believe this pumpkin soup recipe from Danza de Fogones is akin to what I enjoyed in Havana while overlooking winter waves crashing upon the Malecon.

A Glimpse of Food Consumption and Rice and Beans

In terms of food consumption, most Cubans survive off of a small salary and government ration card. Some may receive money from friends and family who have immigrated to other countries. In Food in Cuba: The Pursuit of a Decent Meal, anthropologist Hanna Garth describes the ration system as follows:

The Cuban food rationing system is one of the many state-based entitlement systems that are central to what makes Cuba still socialist… Every Cuban is eligible for a ration card, with which they can purchase basic food items.3

The rationed goods are heavily subsidized, though Cubans still pay about 12% of the food items' market value. For most, the ration will not last the duration of the month- rather only one to two weeks. Still, the ration is viewed by Cubans as essential to providing “the basic nutrients they need for part of the month and the ingredients to make culturally appropriate Cuban cuisine” (Garth, p. 14, 2020).

Scarcity affects what items are available via the ration cards. For instance, while in Cuba I heard about limitations of this month's ration, like an absence of white sugar or receiving only a couple of eggs (which was followed by the sardonic joke of one omelet a month). In these cases, income is what, sometimes, becomes a determinant of whether one can procure these staples through markets or the Cuban black market. Other times, money is not an object and items are simply unavailable on the island.

RICE AND BEANS / ARROZ CON FRIJOLES

Despite scarcity and an ever-in-flux food system, Cubans have told me that rice and beans are an ideal staple of every meal. While I grew up eating black beans and rice, I never learned how to make them “properly”. I’ve often been confused about why my black beans seasoned with onion and garlic powder taste stale, or why my rice comes out too sticky. Lately, I’ve intentionally sought to learn the art of beans and rice. Here is what I’m learning:

Tips for White Rice

• Rinse your rice: For most of my life I’ve hardly humored this recommendation, however, I have recently heeded this advice. I have now gathered that if something is tried and true throughout various cultures, it must be worthwhile. Further, when cooking for others, some are more fastidious about their rice methods and it seems nicer to please this population than to skip an easy step :)

• Ratio: 1 cup of rice to 1.5 cups of water. Alternatively, utilize the knuckle method.

• Rice cooker? : When I left for college, my mom insisted I take a rice cooker. I fought her on to me what seemed like an unnecessary kitchen appliance, but honestly, it turned out to be a game changer. Rice always came out with the perfect consistency. For households that consume a lot of rice, a cooker can save a stove burner and peace of mind. Nevertheless, I never noticed a rice cooker in Cuba, which leaves me to believe this appliance is a modern luxury and irrelevant to making a perfect pot of rice.

• Over the stove: Bring to a boil, and then immediately reduce to a simmer.

Cuban Black Beans

I followed Alex Garcia’s recipe for Cuban black beans and my culinary craving for the perfect recipe is finally satiated. His secrets include cooking dried black beans for 2 1/2 hours (only stirring occasionally), sautéing sofrito, simmering garlic in plentiful oil, and letting everything marinate overnight (or longer). His recipe, inspired by his abuela, is a game-changer.

Machismo and Bundt Cake

Cuba’s machismo culture is a pervasive force, where women are expected to be caretakers of the household. In Cuba, this assumption often reduces women to hours a day of unpaid labor, walking to various markets, preparing meals, keeping the house tidy, and taking care of youth and the elderly. This work, dubbed the double or triple shift4, is taken up in addition to their careers and responsibilities and often prevents them from enjoying downtime or partaking in civic engagement. These adversities are exacerbated depending on one's economic level and skin color. A few of my experiences in Havana help to capture this cultural phenomenon.

Food Acquisition

On my first day in Havana, a woman named Madeline approached me and mentioned that she would love the opportunity to help with anything during the duration of my stay. Inspired by Hanna Garth’s Food in Cuba: The Pursuit of a Decent Meal, I asked Madeline if she would show me the processes through which she acquires food in Havana. One morning, I met her at her apartment to go food shopping, and before we left, she asked me whether or not she should wear her jacket over her cropped sweater. I told her she should wear whatever she’d like, but she found this answer unacceptable. She asked me repeatedly until I finally caved and chose for her. I felt frustrated because it seemed wildly inappropriate to dictate what another person is wearing, but with a language barrier, caving seemed the easiest course of action. I presume that she didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable walking around with her if I viewed her as not looking respectable.

When we finally left her apartment, we walked to two markets in the vicinity of her apartment in search of fresh produce and meat. In both, innumerable flies buzzed atop cuts of uncovered and unrefrigerated meat. I remained silent, uncertain of whether this was typical and if she would still buy the meat, however, she turned us around and simply stated “no es fresco”. We walked about a mile to the part of town with better markets, and she didn’t bat an eye making this commute in one of her only pairs of shoes- four-inch heels.

In this part of town, we visited an air-conditioned and closed-off room where Madeline and a butcher soberly negotiated over about two dollars worth of ham pieces. Meat is something she ordinarily cannot afford to buy. Madeline also purchased a few tomatoes and boniato, a Cuban root akin to sweet potato. She made her selections with extreme precision, as she ensured the highest quality and that she could afford what she picked out. As demonstrated by Madeline’s example, food acquisition requires time and labor, and this is just one element of the caretaking women are expected to undertake.

Meal Preparation

On my last day in Havana, I met a grandmother. We had gone to her home to witness and learn about its art deco history. The grandmother expressed remorse that the house wasn’t tidier for our visit, though it was clearly well-kept. She mentioned that she had been busy in the kitchen and unaware of our impending visit. In our conversation, she stated something along the lines of her place being in the kitchen, which I followed by asking if she liked to cook. She replied candidly that she didn’t enjoy cooking, rather that if she didn’t her husband would die.

While she doesn’t enjoy cooking, she feels it is a responsibility she has no option but to assume for the wellbeing of her family- to keep them nourished and perhaps in alignment with social expectations. This expectation of cooking day in and day out whether it is enjoyed or not- is an inequitable responsibility that many Cuban women face.

That being said, the grandmother followed her disclosure with some optimism- that she enjoyed baking bundt cake, for its minimal ingredients and versatility. When I asked her if she had a recipe she could share, she began to recite it orally.

BUNDT CAKE

While I was unable to capture her entire recipe, I believe I received what was most essential to convert her steps into a plant-based alternative. The following is a vegan cake recipe by Alison Andrews, modified to resemble the recipe which was shared with me in Cuba.

Ingredients:

• 1 ¾ cups flour

• 1 cup fair-trade sugar

• 1 tsp baking soda

• ½ tsp salt

• 1 cup vegan condensed milk

• ⅓ cup oil

• 1 tbsp vinegar (white or apple cider vinegar)

Instructions:

1. Heat your oven to 350°F and oil a bundt cake pan.

2. According to the Cuban recipe, sift your flour five times, and then mix in the sugar, baking soda, and salt.

3. Add the vegan condensed milk, oil, and vinegar and whisk to combine.

4. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean.

5. Allow the cake to cool, and then use a knife to gently separate the edges of the cake from the pan.

6. Put a plate over the top of the pan, flip it over, and as I was told, dance the cha-cha for the cake and pan to separate. Voilà.

7. Top with whatever you’d like: fresh fruit, jam, nuts, etc.!

Hospitality and Cafecito

There is nothing like an imagined bundt cake, warm from the oven, to transition us into the pure magic of Cuban hospitality. Gratefully, I feel as if a lifelong student of Cuban hospitality, through receiving and witnessing the hospitable acts of my abuela and mom. Both have demonstrated an affinity for food and sharing it with others. I’m often amazed by how thoughtlessly my mom will invite someone over or in, and offer (and insist upon) them eating whatever is available or being prepared. No matter if she is busy or the house is untidy, she always makes time for hosting others, strangers and family alike.

Over a year ago, I began to study Cuban hospitality. I did so by interviewing two of my mom’s friends, Cubans who had immigrated to the United States. They didn’t know what I was studying going into our conversations, but they unwittingly fulfilled my expectations. Upon arrival, my mom and I were offered whatever was on hand, like cake, bananas, tomatoes, and always cafecito (Cuban coffee). The stories they shared added depth to their hospitable gifts.

Both women held what I would describe as heartfelt esteem for Cubans’ sense of community. They missed how interdependent community once felt, like knowing their neighbors and friends showing up unannounced. This relationality is woven into the fabric of everyday life in Cuba- as people rely on one another for attaining essential knowledge, fostering solidarity surrounding difficult circumstances, and sharing in the joys of friendship.

Life in Cuba is uniquely difficult and beautiful. For instance, Yanetsy told me that if there are three eggs and six people, Cubans will divide the yolks in half to ensure everyone has their share. Through adversity, community is the mean through which Cubans persist. Therefore, Cubans nurture one another as best they can. Sometimes scarcity of food, and concurrent trauma, can infringe upon this value being put into action as often as it might otherwise be. Nevertheless, community relationships and caretaking are still societally indispensable for their interdependent survival.

CAFECITO

As a person who solely delights in coffee amid the company of others, I’m far from qualified surrounding how to make cafecito. For example, it was only this past week in Cuba that I learned how to use a stovetop espresso maker. That being said, step-by-step instructions seem unnecessary for why I’m highlighting this cultural phenomenon. What is most of interest to me is the metaphysical sweetness of cafecito, residing in a limited amount of brewed coffee being shared with company through small vessels. Cubans like their espresso very strong and very sweet, and therefore it is best savored slowly while enjoying the company of others.

Ingredients:

• Stovetop espresso maker

• Ground coffee (Cafe Bustelo is popularly associated with Cuba, but it does not have any certifications for ethical or environmental sourcing. Cubans do not have an option of where to source their coffee. For consumers with the selective agency, I would opt for a fair-trade certified alternative.)

• Sweetener (Sugar is used in Cuba, though perhaps consider a sweetener that is locally available and/or positively impacts where it is sourced from.)

• Company and little cups :)

Despite Cuba’s secluded nature, I hope this article portrays the accessibility of Cuban culture. To hold care of our friends, strangers, the earth, and ourselves, all it can take is a little time and a little coffee.

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to Dana Moody for guiding me in my pursuit of Cuban studies over the past four years. I am immensely grateful for your support and mentorship :)

Thank you Unpack Studio for hosting our visit to Havana.

The value of rice

Predominately, the passionate, hearted discussion surrounded how rice seems unappreciated in modern culture. From the hospitality industries eyes, populations seem unwilling to pay for quality rice experiences, with exceptions for esteemed risotto and paella or exotic sushi and mochi. In Puerto Rican, Peruvian, Indian, or West-African cuisine, rice seems unable to garner the same fanfare; the trend is that patrons will only pay so much for the rice of these traditions. The under-appreciation of rice of certain cultures becomes an issue in the restaurant world when chefs desire to honor and share the cultural significance of rice in their respective heritage, exploring the bounds between dishes evoking home and culinary innovation. Unfortunately, when patrons are unwilling to pay for the actual value of rice, chefs wanting to share beloved rice dishes can feel forced to cut corners. Chefs, unempowered to source rice that positively impacts the people and places of their respective heritages, often source rice that exploits and marginalizes select cultures and the environment. The same story goes for food items added to the dish. With awareness, dishes that harm become hard to swallow and bitter-sweet. Without awareness, dishes perpetuate the harm of the hands and plants that feed us.

Holding rice with esteem

The undervaluation of rice is occurring both among those for whom rice is and is not culturally significant. When rice is viewed insignificantly, it has a bad rap of being plain and unhealthy. This population lacks experience with the heart of rice, parents and grandparents who share rice as a labor of love, or cultures who have relied on rice cultivation as a mode of caretaking to their communities- human and non-human. We must learn to eat with an awareness that whatever food we are eating is of the utmost importance to someone/some culture.

I had a roommate who lived in Ghana for a year, and her host family taught her to make red-red, African-stewed black-eyed peas served with plantains or rice. Whenever she made red-red for me, it was delicious, warm, and full of heart. Once, we even ate it with our fingers in true Ghanaian fashion. We are not Ghanaian, but we do not need to be to appreciate red-red. Eating the dish on a foundation of relationality, people we care for and who care for us sharing what they hold respect for, the love in the dish will be ever-present for me. To love and value our food, it is essential to eat with this frame of relationality.

Those with rice food traditions have grown up with their loved ones making rice. Rice is the very crux of their household. When they are going out to eat, they might not be inclined to pay for a dish that has seemed so accessible to them. That being said, in an increasingly fast-paced culture, taking less time and space to cook and pass down family recipes, perhaps cultures with rice significance will increasingly rely on restaurant rice to evoke identity and home. For those with rice heritage and facing cultural marginalization, it’s tricky to ask them to pay for the true value of rice, when both they and their heritage dishes have been devalued by the hands and minds of a dominant culture. That being said, Chef JJ shared that he was familiar with people in his community coming in to his restaurant FIELDTRIP to buy a rice bowl with their last $20. These individuals understand that honoring their heritage and community is priceless, and that what goes around comes around.

Call to action

By the end of Rice Stories, I am sure every soul in the room was willing to pay for the real cost of rice, to honor the ingredient origins, the heart and talent of our chefs, and what it takes to sustain the restaurants our communities depend on for local produce, employment, and delicious meals. My mom was eager to head to the kitchen and carve out space in her workaholic lifestyle for the dishes of cultural significance that bring her, and me, joy. She refused to leave without chatting up James of Harlem’s Puerto Rican restaurant La Fonda about his Sofrito recipe. Even our friend Rick, honest about his distaste for cooking, proclaimed at the end of the event that he felt moved to go home and cook rice. I could not resist buying gorgeous organic jade pearl rice at NYC’s Kalustyan's the following day. These examples demonstrate the importance of learning more about what we are eating, to regard our communities with growing love and respect. Had Rice Stories been Bean Stories, Lettuce Stories, or Sugar Stories, I feel sure the audience would have walked away with the same care for those that we now hold for rice. Therefore, my call to action for those of us interested is to learn the story behind a food we enjoy weekly. We can consider the ingredient origins, in what climate they grow, who historically and presently do the cultivating, and any environmental and social impacts. We may also consider whether know anyone culturally linked to this food tradition, and make an opportunity to deepen a relationship with them. This person might be a neighbor, colleague, or a chef in your community; ask them what foods they grew up eating of cultural significance to them. In my experience, these conversations evoke so much heart, and I am always so glad I have asked! This week we have learned about rice together; feel free to comment below which food you enjoy that you will learn more about next week. You’re invited to come back to this post and comment on what you’ve learned so that we can continue to learn from and be inspired by one another. Together, let us grow our food enjoyment from lustful to loveful.

As I returned to my present abode from Boston, I discovered large packages at my doorstep. I immediately knew the package origin, none other than my dear Aunt Suzy in Ojai, California. I opened the first, filled with the sweetest gifts I know will inspire upcoming blogs. The second package was citrus galore; I presume it originated from the organic orchard which flourishes in her backyard.

The package of citrus seems like quite the serendipitous arrival. Winter-long, amid moments of feeling fruit deprived, I must admit I have scoured the internet in search of planet-friendly citrus to have shipped to my door (yes, this is a bit of a conflicting statement, insofar that something 'planet-friendly' would be shipped thousands of miles to my doorstep). Nevertheless, what turned me off from the pursuit was my inability to find an organic, small-scale orchard to source from, which makes sense. I assume that a small operating farm might not have the resources to set up an online shop, package, and ship produce across the country. It seems more likely that such farms would sell their produce directly to their communities or to larger middle agents to get their produce to wholesalers. It never occurred to me to check in with Aunt Suzy to see what she had fruiting!

In last week’s book club meeting, Aunt Suzy fondly envisioned us beyond our computer screens, all together at her home [which is fitly called Nature’s Rest] picking lemons and baking cookies. She continued the heart-warming vision with us going to a local park and sharing the abundant citrus and baked goods with those present. Just a week ago, that was a sweet dream in my heart, and now the possibility of it is my reality.

With a week remaining in Massachusetts, I have a short amount of time to make use of this beautiful and abundant citrus. I’ve begun by making olive oil sugar cookies with a pistachio lemon glaze to take to work on my last day as a thank you to my kind and supportive co-workers. That takes me to T minus one Meyer lemon (and t minus the two satsumas I’ve enjoyed :) ).

On that note, eating these incredible satsumas reminds me of part of the reason why I haven’t been consuming the store-bought varieties. There is something incomparably delectable about eating citrus fresh off the tree (not to mention lovingly plucked by a dear one). Eating the satsuma, I can only compare the taste to when I lived with Aunt Suzy and Uncle Bob for a winter. On days when I felt inclined to meditate in the morning before my virtual classes commenced, I ventured down through the orchard to Aunt Suzy’s pink meditation hut. As I would pass the citrus trees, I would pick two clementines to enjoy with black tea for breakfast- which fostered some of my favorite meditations. To this day, when I eat tangerines, mandarins, or clementines, I think of the Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh. I first discovered Thich Nhat Hanh’s tangerine meditation in his book Peace is Every Step. Since then, I’ve come across his tangerine meditation in several forms throughout his various works. The following is an excerpt of one of his tangerine meditations from the Plum Village website:

With his words in frame, of course, Aunt Suzy’s citrus is the best I’ve ever had. I’ve witnessed the trees, blossoms, birds, sunshine, and gardeners first-hand.

Beyond this soulful enjoyment of the citrus, even the flavor is unlike what is commonly found in groceries on the east coast. Enjoying these exquisitely fresh satsumas reminds me of this, as good citrus jogs my memory that I haven’t had it this good in some time. This is why I’d typically rather abstain from citrus consumption. I find myself less likely to appreciate the experience of citrus when I’m disconnected from its origin, and when by the time the citrus is passed through various intermediaries to get to the supermarket and into my hands, the flavor is mild at best. This goes without mentioning the range of apathy to curiosity I feel regarding the inextricable citrus origins [how does the citrus' farming effect the immediate environment, what is life like for the citrus laborers, how much fossil fuel is used for transport, etc.]. Therefore, it’s no wonder that Aunt Suzy’s citrus brings me joy; I feel excited and grateful to have the opportunity to share her citrus with the New Englanders in my life.

Starting today, I will take the remaining citrus with me where I go; I will pass it along until no more remains. When Aunt Suzy gives me lemons, I profess thank you life for citrus!

Falling back in love with rice and beans

For lunch, the kitchen always serves a main entree (vegetarian and a dairy/gluten-free alternative), a side vegetable, and a comprehensive salad bar. Three small pots of rice, tofu, and beans are available for individuals with further dietary restrictions. One day, the side-vegetable, deliciously-roasted delicata squash, made my heart swoon (I’m a sucker for whatever produce is seasonally available). I scooped up what I determined was my fair share and innately headed for the simple rice and beans. I’m not sure how they prepared the squash, my guess would be olive oil, sea salt, and some cinnamon, and the rice and beans were bare as could be, though I remedied that on my end with a salt shaker. While entirely basic, a more incredible and comforting meal could not have seemed better at that moment, and I slowly savored and intended to attend to every bite.

I’m still a bit awestruck by the extraordinariness that arose from experiencing such a simplistic meal. Perhaps there is deep-rooted nostalgia in me from eating my Cuban mother’s rice and beans throughout my life. Additionally, maybe rice, beans, and squash create a profound triad, similar to what Robin Wall Kimmerer exemplifies between corn, beans, and squash in Braiding Sweetgrass. In her chapter The Three Sisters, she demonstrates the interrelationships between the three plants, and how they physiologically depend upon one another for their flourishing. This augmentation by togetherness continues beyond the garden. She writes,

By the corn’s food energy, the bean’s protein, and the squash’s rich vitamins, we depend upon their unification. On retreat, perhaps the meal was so delicious because I was more attuned to the embodied sensations of nourishment.

My takeaway from this experience is simple meals are a worthwhile undertaking. I’m often looking for new, exciting recipes to try out, but it’s good to remember not to disregard the staples that have nourished humankind without fail in cultures across the globe. Simple, nutritious meals not only have a place in satiating us on busy days but also eating staples in their essence can cultivate intimacy with them. Intimacy, appreciation, gratitude, love; what wholesome states for wholesome meals.

Manifesting rice and beans- a sneak peek into February

Over the coming weeks, rice and beans will increasingly become at the forefront of my experiences, from rice stories to potlucks to traveling to Cuba. I look forward to sharing about them with you :)

Additionally, for February’s book club, we will read Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson and/or Regenesis: Feeding the World Without Devouring the Planet by George Monbiot. Honoring the themes of Black Cake, I’m inviting those interested to make a dessert of cultural significance to enjoy during the meeting; it probably isn’t a surprise that I am inclined to make arroz con leche (Cuban rice pudding). The book club will meet Sunday, February 26th, 6-7 pm EST. Email intereatingblog@gmail.com if you’d like to join us.

To get to these villages, though, a van traveled through streets with large, affluent homes guarded by fences and, at times, bodyguards. Surrounding these large homes were tea and coffee plantations. The dichotomy present in this severe wealth gap struck me: how similar it still is in the United States, particularly in the south where I live. 

Through my observations and interactions with Kenyan people, as I’ve noticed anywhere I’ve traveled, I realized how much of the world is the same. Wealth begets wealth, and the majority of humankind works hard to provide for their loved ones while that effort often pushes forward systems that grow wealth for the few and stagnate the masses. 

Ethics surround us. Every company and product is suddenly sustainable, reusable, renewable. Recently, discourse has become increasingly popular around ethical treatment of the planet, people, and the systems in place between those entities. We feel a distinct sense of ownership over our own set of ethics. 

But the truth is, ethical consumerism is foggy: in Westernized culture and capitalist or capitalist-inspired systems, any product or service that creates an easier or more efficient life for you most likely negatively impacts someone or something else, be it as abstract as environmental ecosystems or concrete as human communities. Things we do each day have insurmountable consequences, from what we eat and drink to what we wear. 

Look around you and observe the unethical practices that create your surroundings. Where I am, I see plastic blinds on hotel windows as I sit on a hotel mattress made of woven cloth, metal springs, and polyester filling built by someone in a large offshore factory. That bed was then meticulously made by a likely underpaid housekeeper who also set out my small, plastic-wrapped soap on the bathroom counter. I’m sitting in one of multiple rooms in an establishment using unholy amounts of water and electricity each day, while probably discarding pounds upon pounds of food and oil once the restaurant downstairs closes each night. 

Instead of becoming hopeless or overwhelmed by these consequences, I find appreciation and awareness makes for a much more peaceful existence. Simple practices of becoming aware of what surrounds you and where those things come from is a form of thanks. A distinct opportunity for this, if breaking down every single thing in your bedroom leaves you feeling lousy, is your morning cup of coffee. 

Coffee is historically essential to human development. In the book Uncommon Grounds: The History of Coffee and How it Transformed Our World, Mark Pendergrast breaks down how humankind developed and innovated at staggering rates when we slowly adjusted our morning routines from beer to coffee. No surprise, really. But since Absynnia, coffee remained a pinnacle of productivity, comfort, and routine in cultures around the world. Like any staple, however, its rampant use has resulted in plantations like those I saw in Kenya and are present throughout regions of the world that can grow coffee. 

When walking through a regenerative forest in Limuru, Kenya, I saw for the first time a wild-growing coffee plant. This plant was not farmed: its sole purpose was to contribute to the ecosystem of the forest. I plucked a coffee cherry from the green stem and perforated the tough skin with my thumbnail. Slowly, I popped the outside open and saw the classic oval shape with the vertical cross-section of what, if roasted, would become a coffee bean. 

I asked a guide and new friend, native Kenyan and part of the Kikuyu community, his knowledge of coffee farming in Kenya. He shared with me the tragic state that many plantations in the area maintained for their workers. Sometimes, large commercial farms that sell coffee to chains in the United States and United Kingdom would require workers to live on the premises: eating very little, working for even less, and sleeping in inhumane, filth-ridden barracks. 

However, my guide also shared that his family owned a coffee farm of his own: operated mostly by his family members, he grew a small plot of coffee that would be sold to a large distributor for money to support his family. So, while much of coffee is grown in substandard conditions, some of it comes from hardworking families who have owned farms for generations. 

Large industries, like coffee, are miniature worlds: there are virtuous people and greedy people, wealth and poverty, health and death. While it would be beautiful to imagine, optimally ethical coffee will never be possible because it is an industry run by human beings who are multifaceted complex creatures with myriad motivations. 

We can’t be purely ethical. I’ll stay in another hotel, you’ll drive to work or stop at Starbucks because you really love their new flavor of cold foam. What we can do, though, is take a moment each morning for those who grew our coffee. We can take a sip, savor it, and realize that the enjoyment or necessity we derive from our daily rituals depends on thousands of people to make it possible. 

When we decide to look at something with gratitude, I find it often results in motivation and hope to create a more ethical world. Instead of focusing on the large coffee plantations that strip soil and mistreat workers, we can learn the stories of family-operated farms that are honest, dedicated, and sincere. When we reorient ourselves toward the good, the good will in turn become abundant, even if that abundance doesn’t look how we wish it would.  

This past weekend was such an experience. I welcomed a highly anticipated day off, the first to myself ( at least in part) after holidays with loved ones and a nine-consecutive-day work week. While a breath of fresh air, or a breath of root-cellar-esqe air, by the end of the day, I was feeling lonesome.

I’ve learned that baking (and writing about baking) is a helpful means for me to understand and move with arising feelings and experiences which I might be finding unfavorable. Naturally, this awareness paired well with a craving for brownies. So I searched for the perfect recipe to take on, and soon the brownie craving was replaced with a different ambition. I discovered and recalled that all over, people are celebrating versions of Epiphany. Suddenly I had recipes galore to learn more about- like galette des Rois, Rosca de Reyes, and king’s cake.

Making Ukrainian Christmas Bread

I opted not to take on the previous recipes, perhaps due to my lack of food dye, plastic babies, and large beans. A different recipe won my heart- a pumpkin and orange kolach by Olia Hercules, adapted from Katrya Kalyuzhna. I’ve always wanted to make braided bread, and this seemed like a perfect opportunity.

To locate the recipe, I went down some rabbit holes, like subscribing to Katrya, a Ukrainian cooking blogger, via her Patreon platform. Her account, where she posts videos of how to make traditional Ukrainian dishes, brought a glimpse of life today in Ukraine. Katrya had a micro-bakery in her native town of Kakhovka, where she prepared sourdough bread and slow foods. Now, she has become a refugee to escape the Russian-occupied Kherson region of southern Ukraine. This past December 25th was the first time Katrya and her family, along with many Ukrainians, celebrated Christmas. While they traditionally celebrate on January 7th, they no longer wish to share their biggest holiday with Russia.

Similarly, Olia has not been at home in Ukraine in three years, and she does not have the opportunity to be with her parents this year. Her father returned to Ukraine to defend the frontline. Olia stated “No Christmas…next year, I refuse to lose hope, we will be in mum’s beautiful dining room again”.

To tend this bread was an opportunity to hold the experiences of Ukrainians in heart and mind. No matter the transient loneliness emerging in my case, it doesn’t hold much of a flame when I make space to focus on experiences like the destruction of native homes, obstruction of livelihoods, separation from loved ones, and the imposition of killing, famine, and needless suffering. Precisely when, otherwise, Ukrainians would be in their homes and communities with their loved ones, breaking into a warm Christmas bread.

So things considered, it seemed almost fitting to partake in this bread in isolation. And while there was more acceptance of my aloneness, it was also a moment for reflection. Like, if war, death, and forced migration are not being imposed upon me, what is presently inhibiting me from communing- an act from which I derive joy? Instead of stoking sentiments of dejection or complacency, baking enabled a more comprehensive awareness of aloneness and discovering what agency I have to address it. On that note, it seems fitting to end with the serenity prayer.

An Important Dose of History

I love holidays which involve specific food traditions, and lucky for me, New Years is one of them. I love this aspect of certain holidays because the link between celebration and food is so transparent. Further, when there are traditional foods which are consumed, it’s a fun opportunity to understand why and feel connected with folks before who and ate these recipes or versions of them.

For as long as I can remember, my mom always ensured that black-eyed peas and collard greens were on the table at the start of the year. It’s safe to say the holiday food-theme loving has been natured/nurtured in me. I was told the dishes signify good luck and prosperity for the year to come, and unsurprisingly, there’s more depth to the story. So, if you’re eating black-eyed peas and collard greens, here’s why from America’s preeminent food historians:

Tracing the Origin of a Black American New Year’s Ritual

Recipes

Black-Eyed Peas

Black-eyed Peas by Mashama Bailey

Berbere-Spiced Black-Eyed Pea Sliders from Bryant Terry’s Afro-Vegan

Collards

Coconut-Braised Collard Greens by Von Diaz and Julia Moskin

Collard Greens from Christopher Carter’s The Spirit of Soul Food: Race, Faith, and Food Justice

Cornbread1

Cranberry Cornbread by Vallery Lomas

Cornbread from Ghetto Gastro’s Black Power Kitchen

Getting Creative

I paired Bryant Terry’s black-eyed pea sliders with Vallery Lomas’ cranberry cornbread, and added cranberry pear jam (homemade by my mom), vegan honey mustard, mixed greens, and Cuban-spiced caramelized onions. It did not disappoint, so long as you’re willing to opt for a fork.

Intereating Bookclub

For the past four years, my new year’s resolution has been to read 52 books/ one book a week. To give you an idea of how that’s going, in 2022 I read approximately twelve. Therefore, in 2023 I’m opting to meet myself in the middle and resolving to read 24 books…and I’m soliciting your help with half of them. I thoroughly love bookclubs, so let’s get one started! The best part is that if you choose to participate, I’ll mail you a free copy of our first book :) So, if you’re interested, please fill out this form so we can determine the date of our monthly, hour-long Zoom meeting. Yay! For ease, I’ve selected January’s title (we will collaboratively determine our future readings).

Drumroll for our first book:

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver

I selected this book for three reasons:

• A wonderful friend who I unequivocally admire has recommended it.

• I received it for Christmas.

• For following a year long food journey, the beginning of the year seems the perfect time to read this book.

That’s all I have for now; happy New year my friends, and hope to see you at bookclub <3