Closed Loop Cooking Weekly Newsletter 6.16.23

June 16th, 2023

Hi friends,

Ideating on nostalgic summer moments that inspired the latest iteration of Scrap Supper. Tickets are live for a few more days so if you’re in PDX and considering attending, go snag ‘em >> And if you can’t join in, share with a friend. Showing up for community spans a range and I’m so appreciative of everyone who’s spread the word. <3

Growing up in a resilient kitchen, we lived by the seasons, reveling in the chance at fresh produce when the farmer’s markets discounted their abundance or family friends had plethora to share. Once in a while my mom would score a box of semi-bruised fruits, peaches were my favorite, and we’d indulge in the excess. My sister and I would wash and help slice fruit off the stone to dehydrate, jarring the sun sweetened treats to last another month. Which they rarely did.

These moments in my mother’s kitchen, learning to stretch the seasons, were my first lessons in scrap cooking. Remembering to save a piece of today’s warmth and bounty for when you really need it. Nothing was sweeter than finding a forgotten jar of dried peaches as fall turned cold and reliving those fruit-filled afternoons at home.

To honor these summers of my youth I’m sharing a special essay below the scroll. Thoughts on sun laden kernels from the family farm. As always, a treat to share with you all. 

And if you think of it, reply back with a childhood favorite summer treat.

Stay hungry,Hawnuh Lee | Founder, Closed Loop Cooking

Scrap supper moments. // @skyemcneill

The dish >>

• Would love to receive an artichoke floral bouquet. Hint hint.

• We’re making DIY package free matzo all year round.

• And pairing with a vibrant, seasonally inspired beetroot soup (honestly, would try cold.)

• PDX folks–show up for the Come Thru Monday market .

• Looking into this Sensing Harm by Design course, a 6 week intensive focused on decolonizing futures and navigating volatility. 

• Undulating underwater kelp forests are otherworldly.

• Grump bao mugs, a cabinet must.

• Peeping mushroom farmer money diaries.

All ears

An essay by Hawnuh Lee

Celebrating the changing of the seasons with a personal excerpt from a collection of essays. Revisiting the nostalgic moments from summers of my youth, sharing inspiration for my latest pop-up menus. I hope this takes you on the road to the midwest, sun shining, all ears. 

Summers growing up meant road trips to central Iowa to visit family. Ten plus hours smashed in the back of the car with my younger sister and too many books. 

We’d sing along to Meatloaf, the lunchroom special inspired 80’s rock artist. Bat Out of Hell the soundtrack to those long, sweltering drives.

The four of us would lean in strong with, “It was a hot summer night and the something something…” humming incessantly until we could pick up the chorus again.

We’d usually make it in one piece, first to our aunt’s house to visit cousins and then on to middle of nowhere corn capitol to check in with the grandparents.

My grandmother Helen kept a tidy home, plastic on the furniture, kids don’t sit here kind of home. I loved how cool her house was in the summer, fully sealed off from the oppressive July heat.

She’d pull out all the stops for supper, never dinner, and never quite believing my vegetarianism was a real thing. I’d make sure to find all the hidden meat before taking a bite of something.

Corn was always a safe bet. Plentiful, straight off the farm sweet corn. My sister Danelle and I would hover over open paper bags on the back patio, shucking ear after ear, pulling off silks by the handful. 

My grandparents were farmers before they retired. Tending to sprawling monocrop fields, we spent early childhood summers wandering through the maze of stalks and pretending to drive dilapidated tractors.

If there was ever a lull in conversation, Grandpa Howard would turn it around with some hot corn gossip. Who’s ears were sweetest that summer, who’s crop hadn’t turned out well. Corn was currency.

Heading home, they’d pack our trunk with leftovers. Secret frozen cookies pulled from the deep freeze, baked potatoes double wrapped in tin foil, and a shopping bag full of corn from down the road. 

We’d round out summer with those last few ears, peeling off the outer layers and dropping each one into a pot of boiling water for a few minutes. 

Bright yellow, tender kernels with a small corn shaped skewer in case you forgot what you were eating on either end to protect fingers. 

Slathered in salt and melted butter, tasting just like that summer July sun.

Hot summer kernels.

🌽 Would wear pearls on the cob.

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Have an idea we should feature in the newsletter? Want to work with us? Drop a line at [email protected]. We can’t wait to see what y’all cook up next! #closedloopcooking