November 3rd, 2023

Hi friends,

In the throes of soup szn I am centering all fall gatherings around the stovetop. From a lemony red lentil to a hearty minestrone, no soup compares to my reliable, aptly-named, Single Girl Soup. An all occasions go-to for nights when exhaustion has taken over or just needing an evening of steamy comfort. It’s the kind of improvisational dish that on-the-edge veg wilt for. A miso-based soupy solution when all you have on hand is pantry staples like dried seaweed, soba, and abandoned cabbage. While this began as a solo simmer, I’ve brought in my close circle to enjoy SGS, unpretentious and imperfect in its offering. (Including my now partner, for a not so single girl soup 😍.)

I’m appreciating these minimal effort comfort foods and sharing in that ease. Not needing to whip up something flashier but taking slow evenings together, letting moments linger over a steady stir.

What’s in your slow rotation this week?

Stay hungry,Hawnuh Lee | Founder, Closed Loop Cooking

The wind down. // @hawnuhlee 

The dish >>

• Ultimate urban lawn renewal. Inspired by this couple’s drive to bring green to their neighborhood.

• Wish I was eligible for S15 of Bake-Off.

• Warming up with this cabbage + sweet potato lentil soup. Great with a crusty piece of cast iron skillet bread.

• Really enjoyed this pod ep with Sohla El-Waylly and her do-it-myself attitude.

• Supper club inspiration.

• Love a warped dishware set.

• Fantastic waste-free manual from No Mise en Plastic.

• Did you know this about veg peelers?

Flavors of grief.

An essay on feeling through flavor by Hawnuh Lee.

It’s ritualistic, grieving through food. 

Familiar textures offer comfort in shifting tides and I am oft for the safety of known patterns on my soft palette.

A year ago this November I left my home and ex-partner of 5 years. I hadn’t eaten anything I could remember for the previous 6 months. Food washed over me, turned to sand in my mouth as anxiety charged my nervous system. My stress reverberated from every mirror, gaunt exhaustion and thinning hair. Lapsing into self-induced prosopagnosia, I couldn’t recognize myself.

It was time to leave.

He helped me move and after, we had our last meal together. Out of kindness or guilt, I bought pho from a shared favorite as thanks. My sister joined us at the table, witnessing the quiet solace of our finality, said in uneaten rice noodles and cold broth. I cried into my takeaway container the next day, nausea replacing hunger in the air of my new landscape.

Looking out, I saw the 6 chairs I’d saved from my mother after her move and divorce the year prior. Hoarded in our shared basement, I’d held onto them, maybe intuiting an unsettled future.

Uncomfortable heirlooms, I loved their shape and the closeness I felt to her sitting on the reupholstered cushions. And with 6 chairs and no silverware or glasses to speak of, I envisioned a full table.

A week and a half later, makeshift Friendsgiving was my first family meal at my new home. Ten people, every chair and then some filled, and the first spread of food I’d tasted in months. I’d made an overly complicated eggplant lasagna with a profound sadness in every layer. Not for my decision, that never wavered, but the life I’d left behind.

Before you name it, there is comfort in expected unhappiness.

And after, there is comfort in the meditation of making, the intimacy of dishes shared with those closest to you, and reclaimed favorite foods, eaten alone.

Friendsgiving leftovers filled my fridge and plate the next few days. I spooned mashed potatoes with lethargy and allowed myself the space to, finally, eat. I tasted the profound sadness in the bounty of my grief buffet but as the weeks passed on, new food rituals were made, and eventually, those flavors changed.

This November, I envision a full table again. My favorite people and a spread of food made in ease. My flavors having shifted with time and intention into contentment, knowing.

And though grief moves through us in waves, in a tumultuous world, I sit in my mother’s chairs, this time, present for every bite.

Appreciate y'all <3.

This bread couch is perfect for soupin’.

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