September 15th, 2023

Hi friends,

L’Shana tovah. A good year to you–it’s erev Rosh Hashanah, the evening of Jewish New Year, 5784 in counting. We celebrate by coming together, enjoying a sweet beginning to this next turn around the sun. Apples and honey are a classic pairing, a favorite childhood treat before the days of penance to follow. (It’s always a fun time when Yom Kippur, day of atonement, falls directly on my birthday.)

The mark of the High Holidays ushers in the changing of seasons. As neighborhood leaves crimson, I can taste the inevitable sweetness of nostalgic desserts. Apple cake, challah with raisins, baked fruit, chocolate laced babka, honey cookies. Seemingly excessive, there’s hope in these indulgences; for a truly, sweet new year. For a year of growth, happiness, and many more delicious moments. In returning to this annual ritual, I find that intention for a brighter future is carried by these simple desserts. Symbols of our resiliency in the face of uncertainty, a piece of what we aspire towards, that we can share. 

In that breaking of babka, dipping of apple, we create moments of mindfulness. All the more sweet in our togetherness. 

Regardless what you’re celebrating, I hope you’re taking time for small indulgences, with that next bite towards a toothsome tomorrow.

Stay hungry,Hawnuh Lee | Founder, Closed Loop Cooking

Baby babkas to come.

The dish >>

• Portland folks, I’ll be slinging baby babkas outside Cookshop 9/16 from 10 - 1! Come grab your Rosh Hashanah treat :)

• Rosh Hashanah is a great reason to try out this easy, vegan challah. (Not that you need a reason.)

• Visible mending is my favorite aesthetic. 

• Good new year intention–how to stop comparing yourself to other people. Needed read.

• All the hues of avocado dye.

• Following along here for more Taiwanese Rosh Hashanah recipes from Jamie Wei.

• The age old q–should you quit your job to work on climate change?

• Stone souping at Burning Man in 2023.

To break bread

by Hawnuh Lee

An essay from the lonely kitchen.

Leave it to TikTok to educate me on culinary based etymology. (What side of the app are you on?) I’m still reeling, learning the “pan” in “companionship” derives from the French word for bread–alluding to the breaking of bread together, food in tandem.

The implications of food-oriented relationships is not new. We’ve been iterating on the dinner party for millenia and in the Jewish year of 5784, I’m wondering what will drive our togetherness on the eve of Rosh Hashanah, Jewish New Year. 

In an effort to cinch loose social ties, I started Tzimmy (née Scrap Supper), my plant-based, low waste pop-up dinner series, as a chance to feed folks. An extended act of service and conduit for community. This has always been the aspiration, a consistent third space to anchor neighborhood ties. I re-launched this event series in January of 2023 this year, anxious and elated to gather mindfully and rebuild connections lost during the pandemic.

What I hadn’t considered was the isolation in planning said dinners. From marathon solo ice storm prep sessions to late night break down post feast, there is an inherent, unspoken loneliness in building food-focused community. Aside from the literal physical labor, the emotional weight of feeding others can stretch you like thin jam. And the desire to see friends at your table can make you film some questionable marketing content.  

Food is subjective.

I planned a dinner for twenty-five people in June and save for Kaitlyn’s encouraging aunt, not a single ticket sold.

As much emphasis as I put into conveying the value in communal dining, food can be lonely. We experience taste independently, unique in our preferences, and as empowered as Girl Dinner suggests, it is more oft than not, a quiet release of will. 

My best intentions will not always be the cultivating influence I hope for.

But food is self care.

And as I consider the evolution of communal gathering, I understand the value in first crafting a dish that I love. Truly finessing favorite flavors, setting the table in case folks arrive, but serving myself first. There will undoubtedly be leftovers in the beginning. So better to make something I actually enjoy and not to let my food get cold.

Community is a time based medium. Connections are cultivated through consistency and repetitive motion. To be a stone soup chef is to first tell the story of the meal, and allow others to contribute when the moment is right. You have to believe in something that does not yet quite exist to make anything on the edge of delicious. 

I can set the stage for community and believe in the pervasiveness of a good one-pot meal. Through repetition and good smells, others will recognize their place at the table. And this, I believe, is where we’ll find ourselves in the next phases of kitchen companionship. Asking for resolute leaders and connectors to believe in the idea of togetherness, before it’s come to light. For hosts and forward foodies to start eating, but to leave room at the table.

I have a thousand more lessons to walk through in these culinary spaces. But like any good loaf, it’s best with a slow rise.

Potato shades.

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