CLOUD SPOTTING: Watching clouds for enjoyment, relaxation, or learning about them (Source: Reverso Dictionary)

Laying on our pool chairs, our eyes pointed at the bluest of blue skies, Ava and I called out what we saw in the clouds. A dragon. A tea cup. A heart. A shapeshifting parade revealing new forms in real time as the clouds travelled across the atmosphere. We’ve done cloud spotting before, at the beach, where the sunset skies spin fresh cotton candy and the sunrise dawn slowly reveals itself, a tease before the big reveal only to retreat into the clouds. In the car in line for school drop-off, we look through the sunroof or out our windows, spying creatures and faces.

This past year, in fourth grade, she learned the names of the different types of clouds, so she’ll often call those out too. Puffy cumulus clouds resembling mushrooming cotton balls. Cirrius, the wispy clouds that look like stretched cotton, or teased out feathers. There’s stratus, the kind of clouds that blanket the sky with a flatness, no discernible shape, a calm before a storm perhaps. And cumulonimbus, the huge clouds that look swollen and threatening, ready to unleash a torrent of rain, and hopefully a thunder and lightning storm we can enjoy watching from our porch.

Three years ago, I learned about a different kind of cloud. A word cloud. In a memoir writing workshop with Allison K. Williams (who was also my first developmental editor and is an incredible teacher, editor, and writer), she showed us how you can use a word cloud generator as a writing tool. You copy and paste a passage of text—in my case, a prologue—and then it generates a cloud of words. The words that appear most often are larger, which is useful for spotting themes and also overuse of certain words. You can adjust the word count parameters; for me, 50 words is the sweet spot.

I returned to the exercise recently, copying and pasting the first 10 pages from my memoir, which covers chapter 1 and part of chapter 2. It’s interesting to see which themes persist, like food and restaurants, and which words have given shape to my story three years later, especially weight, fat, and shame. As I continue revising my manuscript, the word cloud will morph to take on new shapes, new meanings. Even when I have a finished book, its meaning will change shape with every reader and their own experience with the story. What they see, feel, and hear will give rise to a different interpretation.

Art is ephemeral like that. As writers and creatives, we have to remain open to possibility. We hope that readers will interpret or understand what we intended to say. That they see what we see, feel what we feel. But also a wish that it will stir something in them that is personal, that makes the story feel like it was written just for them. In the end, the form is less important—what is important is that they feel seen in our words.

Memoir Updates

Reader, it’s tough out there. I am still in the querying trenches and riding the emotional waves of hope and rejection. I have to remind myself that it’s not personal. I can understand pragmatically that an agent or editor saying yes to your book is subjective, a calculated risk, a business decision. But it’s hard to hear that an agent is really excited about your project, loves your writing, your perspective and themes, but that there isn’t enough of a takeaway to make it really compelling for editors. That my platform isn’t big enough (platform refers to how you will reach readers, and can include social media stats, previous publications and credentials, newsletter subscribers, professional contacts, etc.). I allowed myself, as my mom said, “to feel your feelings.” I wallowed for a couple days, took a break from looking at my manuscript and researching agents, and feel refreshed to try again. Keep rooting for me and sending your well wishes and cheerleading my way, please!

Published Articles & Media Appearances

I’ve been busy in my copywriting and editorial role at the James Beard Foundation, which includes penning blog posts, like profiling JBJ Soul Kitchen, the pay-it-forward restaurant that is part of Dorothea Bongiovi and Jon Bon Jovi’s non-profit, JBJ Foundation, for which they won a 2026 James Beard Impact Award. I also got to interview 2025 James Beard Award winner and pastry chef Paola Velez whose career I’ve been following for the last six years, ever since she co-founded Bakers Against Racism, and whose D.C. restaurant Providencia, I hope to dine at soon! From her award-winning cookbook, Bodega Bakes, she shared three fun frozen treat recipes inspired by Dominican desserts and flavors that you can make at home—no fancy equipment required. Over at Food Network, I wrote about dirty soda, a beverage trend I didn’t even know existed, but fans of The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives and TikTok obsessives likely know their own go-to combo of soda, syrup, and creamer (don’t knock it till you try it, I think!).

Books, Bites & Beverages

Books:

Last newsletter, I covered several of my favorite recent reads, including Go Gentle (by Maria Semple, author of Where’d You Go, Bernadette), Famesick (by writer, actress, producer, and director Lena Dunham), and The Correspondant (a breakout hit epistolary novel by Virginia Evans). I recently finished Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage by Belle Burden, which was an incredibly compelling read about a woman whose husband of 20 years abruptly leaves their marriage during the pandemic—after she learns that he’s been having affair—without any explanation or desire to participate in the children’s lives. It’s also a fascinating look at how the 1 percent live, as the book takes place in New York City and Martha’s Vineyard, and delicious to soak up the sheen of the author’s glamorous pedigree (she is granddaughter to Babe Paley, an iconic fashionista, trendsetter, and socialite).

Bites:

I’ve been making good on my summer mantra of pool, books, ice cream and have been enjoying scoops and swirls around town and at home. I am obsessed with a watermelon lemonade sorbet recipe from Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams at Home, especially since it’s dairy-free so my mom can enjoy it, and Ava and I have bookmarked the roasted strawberry buttermilk flavor to make next. We also plan to whip up another batch of vanilla ice cream to accompany grilled peaches, which sounds like the ultimate summer treat to me. First, we’re working on cleaning out the freezer, and I discovered an unexpectedly delightful combo (pictured above): Talenti cold brew coffee sorbetto and homemade strawberry gelato (recipe from the Salt & Straw Ice Cream Cookbook).

Beverages:

For En Forme I wrote about Crescent Simples’ fruit-herb syrups and it’s one of those products that I fell in love with and will order again on my own dime (food writers often receive samples in exchange for editorial consideration; it’s never a guarantee that I’ll write about it.) I especially love the raspberry rose, tartly sweet and floral, and delicious and unexpected in iced coffee, and the jalapeño lime is perfect for a spicy margarita situation (pictured above, photo credit to Lindsay Sostak). The syrups are also great poured into glass of seltzer, stirred into iced tea, and drizzled over ice cream. In the article, the founders share a recipe for their go-to spiked punch for serving at get-togethers or toting to backyard barbecues, which puts the juicy peach hibiscus flavor to excellent use.

MANTRA: a mystical formula of invocation or incantation (as in Hinduism). A word or phrase that is repeated often or expresses the belief of a person or group. (Source: Merriam-Webster)

The etymology of the word mantra includes from Sanskrit mantra-s “sacred message or text, charm, spell, counsel,” literally “instrument of thought, “related to manyate “thinks,” from PIE root men- “to think.” (Source: Etymology Online Dictionary)

I love the idea of using one’s mind to cast a spell, a charm to give us what our hearts desire if only we dare to think it. I’m adopting the idea of a summer mantra to guide me, in hopes that it will help me spend my time more intentionally and joyfully. I’ve decided that my summer mantra will be: Pool, books, ice cream. (In writing this, I couldn’t help but remember the Jersey Shore catch-phrase of gym, tan, laundry. Ha!) You can devise your own mantra using the formula:

PLACE + ACTIVITY (OR ACTIVITY-RELATED OBJECT) + FOOD OR DRINK

These are pleasurable places and activities that bring us joy, drinks and dishes that help us slip into the rhythms and rituals of summer. Ice cream is a year-round season in our house, but I doubled down this summer by buying myself an ice cream maker for my birthday. So far, my daughter Ava and I have enjoyed making Philadelphia-Style Super Vanilla Ice Cream from Food52 Ice Cream and Friends, which has a texture that lands somewhere between custard and soft-serve.

And from The Salt & Straw Ice Cream Cookbook, we made Chocolate Chocolate, which included layering puddles of chocolate sauce with the chocolate ice cream before freezing, creating irresistible crackly chocolate bits throughout, and Strawberry Gelato, starring ripe Carolina berries macerated in lime juice then blended into the base, yielding a beguiling pink hue and fresh strawberry flavor. Of course, we’ll continue supporting all our favorite scoop shops around town too!

There are few sensations (outside of gastronomic pleasures) more delicious than the feeling of slipping beneath the surface of a pool, the water cloaking your shoulders like a liquid veil. I bought a couple new swimsuits and a new pool float for the season, a sort of reclining lounger complete with cup holders. I long for the feeling of sun-parched skin so that I can take a refreshing dip and catalog this sensation in my mind over and over.

When I’m not in the pool, I’m hoping to surround myself with books. I plan to read poolside or lounging under the shade of a wide umbrella, or perhaps in a rocker at home on the porch. I’ve been on a reading tear lately, which is one of the benefits of lightening my work load a bit. Books I absolutely devoured include Go Gentle by Maria Semple, a novel that has everything—mid-life transformation, art heist, love story, humor, excellent pacing, and clever plot twists. I tried to savor it, but I just couldn’t.

Ditto that for Lena Dunham’s memoir, Famesick. I was reminded of what an incredible writer and storyteller Dunham is, and while her memoir was filled with juicy tidbits, celebrity cameos, and behind-the-scenes adventures in filmmaking and television, it was an often heartbreaking look at what pursuing her dreams cost her and the price she paid with her health.

I adored The Correspondent by Virginia Evans, an epistolary novel told through letters and emails written and received by a retired lawyer in her seventies. It offers an intimate portrait of her life in ways that wouldn’t seem possible otherwise. The story is at turns prickly, funny, and sad, but ultimately, it’s hopeful. People have the power to change, and to be agents of their own change. Next up: Strangers by Belle Burden and The Author Weekend by Laura Zigman.

Choosing a summer mantra has also inspired me to be more present, to tune in to see what the next right move might be for me to take care of myself. Early morning walks when a fresh chill lingers in the air, dissipating with the fervent chirping of birdsong as time progresses. Treating myself to coffees out, an oat milk cortado paired with a walk on the Roanoke Greenway one day, a Cubano latte from a different spot the next time. Savoring evenings on the porch, a spritz during cocktail hour (often seltzer plus fruit-herb syrups) and juicy popsicles after dinner. Taking a ten-minute stretch break. I’d love to hear your summer mantra (or winter mantra, depending on where you’re reading this!). Drop a comment below if you feel so inclined!

FAITH: allegiance to duty or a person. Firm belief in something for which there is no proof. Complete trust. Something that is believed especially with strong conviction. (Source: Merriam-Webster)

No one said writing a book would be easy. They say: If it were easy, everyone would write a book. I’m immensely proud of the fact that I wrote a book and revised it (many times). I am trying to acknowledge that accomplishment more frequently in hopes that it might sink in more deeply. But many days, it doesn’t feel like enough.

Many of you know I’m trying to get a literary agent to represent my memoir, in hopes that I can go on submission and get the buy-in from an editor, marketing team, and publisher to print and distribute and market my book. This is traditional publishing, and getting an agent is but one milestone to hit. I’m not opposed to self-publishing, and maybe that’s the route I’ll end up taking, but I want to traditionally publish because I believe I can reach more people this way. Part of me knows that I have something to say, a message that will resonate. Much of me knows that this memoir is part of my purpose to serve others with my words. I believe this, and yet, it is hard not to have my faith shaken with every rejection, every “I’m not the right agent for this project” or “Memoir is hard to sell.” Even if they do have nice things to say about my writing.

And so, along with perseverance, I am trying to cultivate faith. Faith that I do have something to share, that my words will mean something to someone else, that my vulnerability in putting myself on the page will make someone else feel seen. But it’s hard to cultivate faith when it feels like, after five years of working on my memoir, it’s still not enough. When I get to into a meta mode of thinking, it feels like I’m not enough. And that feeling of not enoughness is one that lies at the heart of my book.

The Woman Who Ate Too Much is about a Third Culture Kid who found belonging and her place in the world earning approval for trying new foods, taking seconds at her Lebanese-American grandmother’s table, and maintaining her membership to Dad’s Clean Plate Club. It’s about becoming a food writer and grappling with weight gain and body image, too. It’s about sublimating her appetites in service to motherhood and her family. But what it’s really about is all the other complex reasons I place so much value and so much of my identity and worth around matters of food and feeding: eating it, reporting on it, cooking it, feeding others, belonging, safety, literal fullness.

You can insert your drug or obsession of choice here, the one that is a substitute for feeling seen, heard, and valued. For feeling like enough. But we’ll never get enough of the thing because we are already enough. Being seen, heard, and valued is not a luxury to be earned and be deemed worthy of. It is a birthright. The fact that I’ll never feel full until I find fulfillment from within feels like a truth I am uncovering over and over again, not just around food, but around striving, achievement, and perfectionism. But these external measures of worth are just that, and the yardstick by which we measure ourselves is constantly shifting. Never enough.

Now is a time when I have to believe that I am enough. That I have what it takes to trust my gut and stick to my conviction that publishing my memoir, in the way that I desire, is my path forward. Even if I have no proof, I believe this is how I will best serve others with my words. My allegiance has to be to myself, and that faith is something I need to learn to cultivate. Who will believe in me if I do not believe in myself? Many people assure me that in publishing, all it takes for one person to say yes. And then the next. But I have to say yes first. I must have faith. I am enough.

INSPIRATION: an inspiring agent or influence. The quality or state of being inspired. The action of power of moving the intellect or emotions. The act of influencing or suggesting opinions. (Source: Merriam-Webster)

Plump raindrops dappling verdant leaves in the bushes lining my driveway. Purple irises with ruffles and colors and details that evoke couture dresses, on display in a neighbor’s yard. The most beautiful hibiscus I’ve seen outside of Hawaii, punctuating the landscape of our local putt putt golf course.

Lately, I’ve found near daily doses of inspiration in everyday moments, quick hits that are striking enough to stop me in my tracks and warrant taking a picture, as if I can capture the beauty and render the moment more fully in my mind.

Inspiration also means “the act of drawing in, specifically the drawing of air into the lungs” (Merriam-Webster). This comes from Old French inspiracion “inhaling, breathing in; inspiration (13.c)” (Online Etymology Dictionary). This reminds me that we must be open to receiving inspiration in order to find it and take it in.

Ava literally reminded me to breathe in last weekend, as we were shopping for plants and flowers with my mom as part of our annual Mother’s Day tradition. She loves to point out that the family green thumb skipped a generation (me) and is fearlessly planting a salsa garden this year. After we’d procured the tomato, bell pepper, and cilantro plants, plus a couple succulents for fun (hey, even I can keep those alive!), we wandered into the flower greenhouse. She stopped and drew in a deep breath, exhaling with a gasp of delight. “Mama, breathe it in!” she exclaimed, gesturing wide with her arms and tipping her head back just a little, as if to maximize her nostrils’ airways. The humid air seemed to both capture and suspend the fragrance, like a dozen perfumers had calibrated a scent for maximum floral expression: honeyed, vegetal, musky, fresh, spicy.

We walked up and down the aisles, the three of us, exclaiming over the unusual color combinations, the detailed patterns that looked hand drawn, veins snaking along petals or candy-like stripes so vivid you wanted to pop the blooms in your mouth like bon bons.

On afternoon walks with my mom, with spring bursting at the seams and blossoms unfolding in full regalia, I’ve stopped to take photos more often: a drooping tree branch, heavy with blossoms, a lush cluster of velvety Technicolor pink roses, a clutch of azaleas on their last gasp.

It reminds me that inspiration can strike anytime, but that more often, the act of being inspired is a practice that must be tended and nurtured. It is something that unfurls in the quiet moments, too, waiting for the right moment to bloom. We have to keep our eyes and mind open, yes, but our hearts too.

SABBATICAL: a break or change from normal routine (as of employment). (Source: Merriam-Webster)

Sabbatical is a term I typically associate with academia, whereby professors typically get to take a year’s sabbatical after working for seven years. Sabbatical also relates to sabbath, the seventh day and a day of rest. In April, I took a partial sabbatical from paid work to allocate more time to my memoir so that I could finish this latest round of revision and begin querying literary agents again.

At first, I fretted that it still wouldn’t be enough time, these extra hours each week. But I underestimated how mentally and emotionally draining this work would be, and I found that I could only devote up to an hour and a half at a time in the morning, sometimes additional time at lunch. As a result, and without so many deadlines competing for my attention, I had free time in the afternoon. This felt like a luxury at first, until I realized that this is what living and being actually feels like.

Going for a walk in the afternoon, driving to Happy Hollow to admire the azaleas in bloom and watch Ava swoop the air with her net to catch butterflies, coloring on the porch, baking a loaf of banana bread just because. And reading! I’d become so busy that I no longer made time to read, which is an activity that fills my soul and feeds my writing practice. It is, for me, essential nourishment.

The experience of taking a sabbatical made me realize that change can happen with small shifts. The conditions for creating, whether that’s making art or a life you desire, will never be totally optimal. I found that the key to living more authentically and in line with my purpose of serving others with my words, is to honor my needs and desires to write, to read, to rest, to play. By being a little more intentional with how I spend my time—which sometimes means freely and other times with more discipline, but without such rigidity and outsize expectations of productivity—I can settle into a life that better reflects who I am.

It’s a state of being in which what’s below the surface more accurately reflects what’s above it, a realization that was inspired in part by a visit to Luray Caverns, where the perfect stillness of Dream Lake (pictured above), creates a mirror reflection of the ceiling stalactites. Instead of the frantic churning I feel to get it all done or “figure things out” to maintain the veneer of how others perceive me, I am dropping deeper into aligning my authentic self with my outside self. This sabbatical period has offered me periods of deep reflection and creative intuition, stillness and quiet. It has allowed me to dream again, to examine the contours of my mind, to let thoughts flow more freely, to trust my instincts and to let go of the judgement that comes with making decisions, whether that’s making craft choices about my book or choosing the intentions with which I live my life.

Memoir Updates

Greetings from memoir land, where I am still living in revision and dipping my toe back into the querying trenches. For this latest round of revision, I read through my printed manuscript and made handwritten notes, then I read each chapter aloud. Hearing the story offers a different perspective, and I can see where something is missing, like a flashback to offer context, or a meaning-making moment. It also helps adjust syntax, like changing repetitive words, adjusting the pacing or flow, or generally improving sentence structure.

I have also begun revising my book proposal, and am currently taking a six-class memoir revision course with Lisa Cooper Ellison, one of my favorite writing instructors. One of the most valuable things I learned through the session about finding your memoir’s essential question, was a way to think more about my audience and the question that my reader needs answered, and research where they currently seek answers to that question, through books, newsletters, podcasts, etc.

Published Articles & Media Appearances

• Carolina Gelen Wants You to Love Cabbage

  For the James Beard Foundation’s blog, I interviewed social media sensation Carolina Gelen, who won a James Beard Award last year for her cookbook, Pass the Plate. We spoke over the phone, and I found her to be as warm, engaging, and friendly as her videos, and I loved hearing stories from her childhood in Transylvania and her present life in Utah. We both agree that lunch should be an intentional pause, eaten away from our desks or kitchen work, preferably outside.

• Corner Booth: Asher’s Moves to Grandin, Big Lick Hiring Chef, Finding Calamari, Crab Bisque

  My latest (and turns out, last) edition of Corner Booth, my monthly food news column for The Roanoke Rambler, highlights the relocation of a beloved local roaster who is debuting food at their new café, including the waffledilla, a quesadilla with a cheese-encrusted tortilla. It also features a first impressions review of Covenant Coffee Company, a gourmet coffee trailer with a solid cappuccino (I’ll be back for an iced Cubano latte). The newspaper was sold earlier this month and full-time news staff, who did not accept the new terms of employment or slashed salary, were let go. I have not been in touch with the new owner, but for me, this chapter of local freelancing has closed.

• Best in Class ‘Cue

  Mama Jean’s Barbecue is the subject of my latest dining review for The Roanoker, who expanded their footprint with a brick-and-mortar restaurant and their menu with more rotating and new specials, like juicy fried chicken sandwiches and crispy pork jowl tacos on beef fat tortillas. My daughter, Ava, can’t get enough of the mac ‘n’ cheese, my mom is loyal to ordering the Duroc pork ribs, and the cheeseburger, in which the patty is made with brisket trim, is one of the best in town. There’s plenty of outdoor seating (plus umbrellas) and I’m eager to return for al fresco feasts of pulled pork and smoked potato salad, coleslaw, and fried Brussels sprouts.

Books, Bites & Beverages

Books:

Have you read Yesteryear? It’s a thrilling satire of a tradwife influencer written by Caro Claire Burke, and is equal parts juicy, suspenseful, and sharp. I especially love that, even within the perceived confines of tradwives, she subverts gender roles and expectations behind the scenes while also doubling down on them as she makes sourdough from scratch, espouses the benefits of raw milk, and supports her father-in-law’s and husband’s political aspirations. The book is also a reflection of our times, both the political landscape and the toxicity of social media. A brilliant debut and best-seller to boot!

And I finally found an audio book that I loved! The Mango Tree: A Memoir of Fruit, Florida, and Felony by Annabelle Tometich (who narrated the audio book), which chronicles her complex relationship with her Filipina mother, her family dysfunction and trauma, and her bid to find belonging as a mixed-race child growing up in Fort Meyers, Florida. I loved learning about her path to becoming a restaurant critic, so I’m excited that she recently announced her next memoir, Imitation Boeuf, which follows her 15-year career as a multi-racial woman restaurant critic writing under the pseudonym of a white male, Jean Le Boeuf.

Bites:

My brothers traveled to Roanoke to celebrate my Mom’s birthday last month, and one of many delicious meals we shared was this epic barbecue sampling from Mama Jean’s Barbecue (which I reviewed for The Roanoker and also covered for Edible Blue Ridge with one of my favorite headlines, Smoke ‘Em If You Got ‘Em). I finally tried the excellent smoked chicken wings, alongside favorites such as ribs, brisket, sausage, and boudin. Of course we had to get two sides of mac ‘n’ cheese, plus collards, pinto beans, smoked potato salad, coleslaw, and cucumber-tomato salad. And banana pudding to finish.

Beverages:

My friend Amy and I fiercely guard our monthly get-together time, which typically involves having dinner out. We had such a fun time at Dorothy & Frank’s, which included an equally fun cocktail menu where many of the drinks feature tea or tea infusions. The beguiling green drink pictured here is the Green Eyed Lady, crafted with matcha. Upon sipping, the creamy, earthiness gave way to a surprising bright citrus burst from fresh lime juice, which played nicely off the juniper flavors of Broker’s gin. After dinner, we got a sneak peek at Frank’s, the upstairs listening bar, and I’m eagerly awaiting the cocktails, bites, and vibes there too!

BREATHWORK: conscious, controlled breathing done especially for relaxation, meditation, or therapeutic purposes. (Source: Merriam-Webster)

On the morning of my scheduled breathwork session, the first time I got goosebumps was when I stepped into the studio of The Lotus Collective, despite my oversized hoodie, the sunny morning, the warmth of the room. There was an air of welcoming, the space thrumming with an aura of calm. The second time I felt a rush of coolness, I was laying on my mat, with headphones resting snugly over my ears, listening to music and the voice of breathwork facilitator Brielle Brasil, a lavender-scented eye mask over my eyes. Brasil had said that a temperature shift might happen.

Before we began, she took time to explain what transformational breathwork is. “Transformational breathwork is basically a guided active meditation that the participant is holding and activating a breath pattern for over 30 minutes, while being guided by a trained and trauma-informed breathwork facilitator with a playlist, guided, hands on touch, in one-on-one sessions or group sessions.”

The purpose, she explained, is to unlock and bring up stored and suppressed emotion and energy living in the body. “Most of us in society live in our minds, we walk around day-to-day with our thoughts, busyness, and to-do lists,” she said. “The purpose is to get out of our minds, disconnect from our fear-based and thought-based minds, and drop us into the power of our bodies.” This in turn allows us to be come more deeply connected to ourselves, have more love for ourselves and our relationships, and can illuminate a greater sense of what we desire. It also helps us cultivate more happiness, expansion, possibilities, and healing.

“When we’re breathing with our mouth open, we can’t control our emotional state as much as when we are nostril breathing,” she explained. “On a physiological level, it gets to deeper layers of fascia where trauma, stuck energy, and emotion live and gets into the cells in our body.” As such, it is vital that newcomers work with a trained facilitator who can help regulate their breathing if they feel out of control.

Brasil went on to share what physical sensations can occur, including temperature shifts to hot or cold, tingling, tetany (cramping in hands, feet, or lips), and lightheadedness. On the emotional side, your body will meet you where you are and only access the emotions that feel safe to access. People can experience a range of emotions, from bliss to rage, sometimes multiple ones in the same session. People may cry, laugh, or shout. Some people experience visions.

I’ll be honest: there were several moments during this introduction where I wondered Is this for me? and considered getting up and leaving. We practiced three-part breathing—two quick inhales followed by an open mouth exhale—and I felt silly, even though I was the only one in class. But, in the spirit of curiosity, my chosen word for this year, I decided I would at least try. Without knowing it, the day’s session fell on the pink full moon, which Brasil informed me symbolizes renewal, rebirth, and spiritual awakening—to release that which is no longer serving us, whether beliefs, thoughts, conditioning, protective masks, layers or identities. Stay open to possibilities.

I laid down on my mat on my back and a chill settled over me after about five minutes. I reached for the nearby blanket and Brasil helped cover me. I tried to just focus on my breath but I found it challenging to override my mind at first, which was resisting settling. It helped that Brasil was offering guidance and gentle reminders about breath, and that I knew I could always fall back to deep inhales and exhales, a la cleansing breaths, if the three-part breathing became too intense. As I dropped deeper into my breathing, my feet pointed and flexed a little, and my hands and arms kind of tittered.

I had told Brasil that I was okay with hands-on touch, and at one point she placed her hands lightly above my heart and then gently tapped with two fingers. Around the fourth song, I started turning my head gently side to side, as if shaking it no. Then I started nodding yes. I had a vision of a woman, with a light purple glowing aura, extending her hand out to me, saying “Come with me.” And in my head I responded, “I’m not ready.” The tears flowed, staining the eye mask with their gentle release.

By the end, I felt a sense of rootedness—my legs were not so heavy that I couldn’t lift them off the floor, but I did feel a heaviness. A grounding of sorts, I suppose. After Brasil gently guided me out of the session, I lingered for a cup of tea in the cozy seating area. Everything in the studio felt so comfortable, intentionally curated to create a safe space for breathwork and for yoga too. I felt more centered, but I still feel that I’m searching for clarity. I feel this desire to want to continue showing up more fully, and to connect more deeply to my purpose of serving others with my words. This was one of the coolest things I’ve done on a spiritual and personal growth work level, and I’m hopeful that I’ll get to try it again soon.

Until then, I’ll try to stop holding my breath, as if I’m waiting for something to happen or trying to control time so I can get it all done. Instead, I’ll find and connect to my breath more often throughout the day.

APPETITE: a desire for food or drink. A desire to satisfy any bodily need or craving. A desire or liking for something. (Source: Collins Dictionary)

As kids, we are often applauded for our appetite. Parents are asked if their children are good eaters or picky eaters. We track our babies’ progress by their movement on the growth chart, hoping for an upward trajectory.

I was always a good eater and over-achiever. In one of the small leather-bound notebooks my mom kept, she once wrote that my uncle David was astounded by the amount of grapes I consumed in one sitting. I earned a membership to my dad’s Clean Plate Club and the frequent designation of Sita’s Best Customer when I took second helpings of grape leaves at my Lebanese-American grandmother’s table. Trying new dishes with my dad at restaurants around the world stoked my love of dining out, whether it was the anticipation of our lunch-time ritual of croque monsieur at our neighborhood bistro in Paris, the dizzy pleasure that fizzed in my veins when I sampled sticky toffee pudding at a pub in Scotland, or breathing in the perfumed smoke of chicken satay as I watched the grill’s flames sizzling skyward at a street cart in Jakarta.

As I explore in my memoir, my appetites have always been my ticket to belonging and food offered me a sense of home no matter where our physical house was located. And yet, living in the U.S. I have not been impervious to the dictum of diet culture and the societal norms that have, throughout history, punished women’s appetites. As a food writer, I am rewarded for my profession, being passionate about food and being someone who derives great pleasure from eating. But this is at odds with my the fact that I have struggled with reconciling “health” with honoring my appetites.

Trying to make a name for myself in food media while grappling with body shame is rife for exploration. Even typing this, my guts churn and my eyes well up—I know I’ve hit something juicy, but the painful stuff is always the hardest to write. But therein lies an opportunity to better understand that what we eat or don’t eat, and how we indulge or sublimate our appetites, informs our identity and the world around us. For me, appetite is also tied to what I desire off the plate—professional ambition, deep personal growth, and my purpose of serving others with my words.

Even if I weren’t already a big fan of Alicia Kennedy’s writing, through her newsletter and her previous book No Meat Required: The Cultural History and Culinary Future of Plant-Based Eating, I would’ve been drawn to her new book On Eating: The Making & Unmaking of My Appetites. In it, she explores the foods and forces that have shaped her life and appetites, with rich prose and her signature sharp cultural critique. The book charts her path from a steak- and lamb-eating kid to a vegan/vegetarian and her physical, emotional, and spiritual connection to her dual homes of Long Island and Puerto Rico. Each chapter is organized around an ingredient—apples, chocolate, martinis, oysters, plantains, to name a few—to probe her personal past and history to unveil how her tastes developed, both for what she wanted to eat and write about and what these foods say about topics such as domesticity, gender roles, agricultural labor, and foodways.

Read on for my interview with Kennedy, who graciously found time to respond to my questions via email in the lead up to her book launch. She shares more about her writing process and book structure, her views on gender roles vis a vis the kitchen, and her favorite places in New York and San Juan for martinis and oysters.

How do you define the word appetite?

It’s what you desire from the pit of the stomach, the marrow of the bones. Something visceral and feral, rather than cerebral.

Tell us about On Eating and how the idea for this book came about. What did you want to say with this book?

This is a book I’d been thinking about for over a decade: a book about female appetite that isn’t about an eating disorder, because my experience of food has always been an embarrassingly positive and rich one. Food gave me life, literally and figuratively—from nourishment to an ongoing career to endless inspiration. It’s better because, by circumstance and the whims of publishing, I had to wait until I had much more experience to do so. I think the book is just to say that our appetites are learned but we can adjust them as we go to make more sense for our lives and for our changing, warming planet.

How did you land on the structure and organizing the chapters around particular ingredients?

I’m an essayist so this is the structure that makes sense to me. The structure allows me a comfortable form while also being woven together narratively; it’s not an essay collection. As I was writing, it was obvious how I’d unconsciously aligned the subtext of the various ingredients with the subtext of my life story. It worked really well to weave them together.

Part of your early idea of feminism vis a vis appetite shifted from “eat a steak to show the man that a woman had a legitimate appetite” to “only eating fair-trade chocolate.” You say that each marked a path toward freedom, or something like harmony. What do your ideas about feminism and attitudes toward eating and appetite look like now?

I eat shellfish when I want to, to honor my appetite and that I’m a woman of islands, and I don’t diminish my appetite despite getting older. Though I certainly feel that I can be less voracious. A tasting menu that isn’t vegan is punishing for my stomach now, for example. Luckily I’m only an occasional restaurant critic.

How do you think others can explore and name their desires so that their appetites better align with their values or their own internal compass? Or as you say, how one can eat for both joy and justice.

I think this is something each person will define for themselves and their geography, their culture, their resources. What I’m doing in the book is demonstrating my own changes and hoping they illuminate something more for each reader.

Can you talk about how gender roles and domesticity influence appetite? Your mom, for instance, did not want you to be a cook or to make your life’s work in the kitchen.

I no longer spend a lot of time in the kitchen; I do what’s needed. I realized when I was regularly developing recipes how poorly that aligned with my own goals and desires for my life. But I also think now that I’m older that our relationships to care work and domesticity sort of go in cycles: sometimes you just do what needs to be done without a lot of emotion or even joy behind it, and I think that’s fine and something that as food writers we should be more honest about. Not every recipe is going to provide us with some transcendent experience. I know I’m going to be excited about cooking again one day, and that I’ll never know what will spark that excitement again.

In the “On Lamb” chapter, you write about the terroir of the self; Charlotte Druckman introduced you to this idea in a story she wrote covering the Pauillac lamb of Bordeaux, writing “Nothing can be as local as what emerges from the terroir of a single self.” You write in your book, “It’s the kind of idea I get excited about, that we all reflect the flavors of those places where we lay down our roots, the flavors of all our meals and lessons and curiosities.” Can you expand on this, and why it’s so poignant?

I’m always excited by vaguely pretentious notions about our appetites, I guess. I don’t have a single culinary or cultural or racial lineage, and so I struggle to define myself when I’m in conversation with people for whom those sorts of things are important categorical means. I like the idea that the terroir of my self is rooted in my own feet, my own tendencies and tastes, with ancestry as a kaleidoscopic input.

What kinds of stories are you interested in writing now? Or is it a deeper exploration of the intersection between food and topics like agriculture, labor, and identity?

Truly, I don’t know. I’ve always been led by curiosity and some muse, and the longer I’m in San Juan, the longer I feel a bit adrift in terms of new stories: I go to the same bars, the same restaurants, all the time. Or perhaps I’m too online and not seeing and noticing enough. Like my excitement in the kitchen, I don’t push myself here. The stories will emerge, somehow. They always do.

In the acknowledgements, you talk about getting a migraine when you finished writing the chapters on oysters and martinis. Can you share a little bit more about the emotional part of the process of writing this memoir?

My brother’s death dredges up a lot of unspoken feelings that I struggle to articulate, even if I try to chronicle it in the book. The migraine was a clear response to the stress of writing about the early period of grieving and mourning, something I don’t think I’ve fully processed and probably never will.

Where are some of your favorite places to sip martinis and slurp oysters, whether in NYC, Puerto Rico, or on your travels?

I like oysters at Catch in Patchogue, and martinis at Shand’s General in Patchogue, and Freeman’s and Le Rock in the city. I eat oysters in Puerto Rico only at the streetside kiosks in Boqueron.

Is there a particular ingredient that you’re obsessed with cooking and eating right now?

I have a longstanding obsession with breadfruit and want to figure out a way to write a book about it, though many people have written their breadfruit books. I am trying to figure out how mine would be different.

Who are some other authors whose work you admire in the food or memoir space?

So many, too many to name. I love Amber Husain’s Tell Me How You Eat and Anny Gaul’s Nile Nightshade, which is why I chose them for my book club this year. Also, Ariel Saramandi’s Portrait of an Island on Fire is a fantastic feminist chronicle of colonialism and climate change from her home of Mauritius—I’m absolutely obsessed with it.

Where else can readers engage with and support your work?

My newsletter, From the Desk of Alicia Kennedy, is the best place to find me with any regularity!

STAYCATION: a vacation that you take at home or near your home rather than traveling to another place. (Source: Cambridge Dictionary)

My mom, my daughter Ava, and I had plans to spend a few days in Asheville, North Carolina during spring break. I had hikes, bookshops, restaurants, landmarks, and gardens bookmarked on my Google map. Places I was eager to share with them and new spots I’d been dying to check out. The hotel had been booked for months. Never mind that my family had just spent a week in Maui a few weeks earlier! Then I hurt my back. And credit card bills were looming (our Maui trip was incredible, but also expensive!). And truthfully, I was tired. Why don’t we stay here, my mom suggested. It suited her just fine, since she was heading to North Carolina later in the week and wasn’t particularly looking forward to back-to-back road trips.

Instead, my mom, Ava, and I enjoyed being at home. We had slow mornings with cartoons and games and books, we colored and played card games on the porch when the afternoon sunshine beckoned. We enjoyed Roanoke, too. We went shopping for books and puzzles, went to the movies, treated ourselves to brunch and browsing downtown. We went where the day moved us, followed our cravings, be it for burgers or ice cream or walks along the creek in our neighborhood, taking in the striking cherry blossoms against the blue sky in one neighbor’s yard.

These are all things that I needed to have a truly restorative vacation. So often there’s a feeling like I can’t catch my breath, but even when I come back from a vacation I’m rarely rested. It was such a gift to have time to slow down and just let my mind wander, instead of zeroing in on the next activity or restaurant on an itinerary. It had the glorious effect of making the days feel longer, of really being able to soak it all up.

Sometimes, when you need a vacation, you need to keep it simple. And sometimes, that means staying right where you are.

Memoir Updates

I received another rejection from an agent, but rather than feel dejected, it feels like another milestone on my publishing journey. This particular agent, to whom I am incredibly grateful and who I was introduced to by a friend, took the time to read my full manuscript and send me a paragraphs-long email with actionable feedback (if I wanted to take things in that direction) and publishing insight. It helped me see how I might better pitch my book to capture the attention of editors, but also made me see that I still needed to identify the unifying thesis. What was the question that I was trying to answer in sharing my personal journey and my unique viewpoint as a food writer through which my themes of body image, motherhood, ambition, and intuitive eating are filtered?

Since then, I’ve made lots of notes, typing them into my Notes app as thoughts come to me at random times (while reading, on walks, in the shower, and once, at 4:00 a.m.). I also read through my manuscript and took hand written notes, seeing where I could add more meaning or cultural commentary to connect my personal life experience with that of my professional experience. Next, I’ll review my book proposal, the chapter outline and summaries in particular, and see if all these thoughts and ideas gel with the framework of the book I want to write. April is my time to re-tool my querying materials and prepare for the querying trenches again, hopefully a bit better equipped each time.

Published Articles & Media Appearances

• Chef Tristen Epps-Long is Redefining Culinary Representation

  For the James Beard Foundation’s blog, I interviewed season 22 Top Chef winner Tristen Epps-Long about growing up as a Third Culture Kid, like I did, and how food memories and experiences shaped so much of his culinary perspective and fueled his lifelong curiosity; how he both defines and evolves Afro-Caribbean cuisine; cooking at the historic Beard House; and why representation and mentorship matter.

• Black Culinary Joy with Toni Tipton-Martin

  I also had the honor of interviewing Toni Tipton-Martin for the James Beard Foundation’s blog, who I first had the pleasure of meeting during a pie cooking demonstration at Terra Vita, a food and drink festival in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. We talked about her prolific career, her James Beard Lifetime Achievement Award, black culinary heritage, and what’s next (spoiler: I can’t wait to read her memoir!).

• Culinary Getaway at Pippin Hill and Crossroads Inn

  For En Forme, I shared my experience of taking a trip to Pippin Hill Farm & Vineyards, which included a fun wood-fired pizza cooking class, a wine tasting with surprising bites, and a four-course dinner at their charming sister property, the historic Crossroads Inn. I only wish I had more time to experience it all! (Yes, I have the best job in the world, but also, it takes a toll, as I wrote about here.)

Books, Bites & Beverages

Books:

I’m late to the party, but I adored Heart the Lover by Lily King, a beautiful love story in which her prose and sharp character rendering captures the kind of emotional nuance that makes the characters really come alive. I read the last several chapters with my heart in my throat. Speaking of love stories, I finished Slow Burn by Ali Rosen, which was all the more fun after interviewing her for my newsletter about the romance genre. It made me want to immediately book a trip to Italy to eat pastries and be seduced by the pleasures of a small town.

I also highly recommend What Will People Think by Sara Hamdan, in which the protagonist secretly pursues her passion for stand-up comedy, thwarting cultural expectations while grappling with what’s at stake if she’s ever exposed. Layered in is her relationship with her grandmother and grandfather, with whom she lives, and uncovering her grandma’s own secrets. This past is cleverly structured, with the backstory unspooling seamlessly in her grandmother’s journal entries.

Bites:

I ate so many delicious things in Maui, including my go-to beach snack of spam musubi, grilled mahi mahi tacos, pristine sushi, and poke. After some online research, it seemed that locals (by newspaper and blogger accounts) prefer poke bowls from the grocery store Foodland, which proudly asserts itself as “Hawaii’s Home for Poke.” I love going to grocery stores in different places, especially to look at all the different snacks, candy, and drinks, especially. Ava gamely stopped with me and I was astounded by the selection in the case, where you could order poke by the pound or on top of a poke bowl: marinated raw seafood like cubes of ahi (Hawaiian-style, with wasabi, with spicy mayo), cooked shrimp, kimchi, slices of tako (cooked octopus), and pipikaula (salted and dried beef). I opted for a poke bowl, warm rice topped with my choice of shoyu ahi and chile garlic crunch ahi. I happily ate in the car, scooping up bites with chopsticks, first in the parking lot and then when we were stopped in traffic en route to the Maui Ocean Center.

Beverages:

My family and I were lucky enough to stay at the Fairmont Kea Lani (part of our stay was hosted, which means we were comped three nights and a meal at each of the restaurants; of course the hope is that I will write about it, but I never promise coverage in advance and am only writing about it in my newsletter because I genuinely enjoyed the experience). I had the pleasure of visiting two years ago, when Pilina, their cocktail bar and sushi lounge had just opened under the oversight of Cameron Hall. On this trip, their signature dining option, Kō Restaurant, had just undergone a makeover and a menu overhaul by new chef, Matt Dela Cruz, where Ava went absolutely crazy for the venison lumpia and we marveled at the fresh takes on seafood. The new cocktail menu, again overseen by Hall, included this winning Kō Daquiri, starring Kō Hana Kea Agricole Rum, its grassy-sweet, tropical notes amplified by a plush puree of liliko’i (passionfruit) and brightened with lime and mint.

CHASING THE LIGHT: Seeking the best lighting for a photographic image. Searching out hope and gratitude. A symbol of pursuing positivity.

It makes sense that the phrase “chasing the light” popped into my head after I snapped this sunset photo (see above) during my family’s recent trip to Maui. Light is the foundation of every image, and it has the potential to influence what the photographer is trying to capture in their viewfinder and what the viewer sees in a finished image. I felt like I caught the light in this image, the way the sun is seemingly suspended in the palm tree but still conveying movement as the sun radiates outward through the palm fronds. It feels something akin to magic to capture a moment, especially something as ephemeral as a sunset.

To better understand chasing the light vis a vis photography, I asked my friend, photographer Aaron Spicer, about what that phrase means to him. “Susan Sontag said it best when she said ‘All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability,’” he told me via text. “As a portrait artist the thing that intrigues me the most is how the same exact light tells a different story on every face it touches. When I place a subject in light that I have created or chosen I'm not just revealing my subject's mortality, but also my own. In this way artistic collaborators exist together in a singular moment in time that acts as a portrait of them both. As I chase light these days I'm more focused on letting the shadows ferment and fester than I am in the light itself, but you can't have one without the other.” To view Spicer’s work, check out his Substack, Little Deaths.

It makes sense then that chasing the light is associated with finding and holding on to moments of good and hope, particularly during trying, shadowy times. Think about all of the words and idioms that convey this: a lighthouse is a shining beacon of safety to ships at sea in stormy weather. The light at the end of the tunnel gives us guidance and a path forward through the darkness. A lightbulb moment offers us a flash of brilliance when we’re feeling stuck. When we bring something to light, we first have to excavate the shadows before uncovering clarity.

For me, chasing the light, whether in taking photos or carving out moments of hope and joy, is the antidote to this pervasive sense of bleakness that seems to be settling over our day to day, like a smudgy film that refuses to be wiped clean. A lot of the photos that I take are of the sun in various locales and settings, as if I’m trying to stockpile light-filled memories to fortify me during darker days. Even if it overexposes a subject or creates what some might deem an undesired effect, I am constantly interested in the way that light plays, dances, and moves. Taking snapshots like these offer a lightheartedness that brings me a sense of ease, of being in the flow of life, and perhaps even a momentary semblance of control.

LOAD: the quantity that can be carried at one time by a specified means. A mass or weight supported by something. Something that weighs down the mind or spirits. A burdensome or laborious responsibility. (Source: Merriam-Webster)

“It’s so tiring trying to hold myself up,” my mom remarked. We were watching my daughter Ava’s last tennis clinic session, and she was seated on a backless bench (selfishly, I took the chair with a back in hopes of staving off low back pain). She said she’s been working on her posture in tandem with PT exercises to rehab her upper back/shoulder blade area; and it is work. In the days prior, she also shared with me a few times that her heart is heavy with the war that’s unfolding right now, worried that she hadn’t heard back from her Arabic teacher in Beirut. “I don’t know how to hold it,” she said. No wonder then, that it was hard for her to carry herself tall, with the weight of the world bearing down on her.

While I was navigating early motherhood, I became familiar with the term “invisible labor,” used to describe the unseen mental and emotional load that goes into managing a household, keeping on top of schedules, meal planning, and anticipating needs. It’s also the mental gymnastics and emotional investment required to execute the smooth running of day to day life, which often leads to overwhelm and burnout. The social media account Momwell does an excellent job depicting how this plays out in various areas of life (see below on feeding the household). It’s something that still weighs heavy on me; even if my husband does help, most of the load is on me, compounded by my own work schedule (and the constant battle to find balance therein), running a business, and carving out time to work on my memoir.

The etymology of the word load is “that which is laid upon a person or beast, burden,” c. 1200 (Source: Online Etymology Dictionary). What can we do to ease the burden, even if we can’t set the full load aside or change the circumstances that define the backdrop against which our lives are playing out?

I love the phrase “take a load off (one’s) feet” meaning to “sit down, relax” from 1914 American English (Source: Online Etymology Dictionary). Rest is integral to supporting ourselves during times of unrest. If we are depleted, we cannot serve ourselves, let alone our families, partners, or communities. For me, taking a load off takes the form of pressing pause on scrolling my mental to-do list and thinking three steps ahead. So I take a book to the rocking chairs on the porch or post up on the couch with a heating pad on my lower back, and this act alone uncoils some of the tension in my shoulders. I’ve picked up my coloring book again, and downloaded a coloring app that my daughter loves. There’s something soothing about the act of coloring, seeing color bloom across the page. I make myself a simple lunch, toasts with smashed avocado and soft boiled eggs drizzled with chili crunch, or topped with tuna mixed with Dijon mustard and Duke’s mayo, lots of freshly ground black pepper, and bread and butter pickles.

Yesterday, taking a load off meant not rushing to my desk to work on my memoir, but taking a mental reset to clear the frazzle dazzle energy of a frenetic morning and day ahead. I went for a walk, latte in hand, and walked through my neighborhood—a simple seeming choice that gave me time and headspace to count my blessings. It warmed my soul to feel the spring morning air on my skin, to feel a surge of gratitude in my heart for the fresh air I was breathing in, to experience the purposefulness of putting one foot in front of the other. I tuned into the soundtrack of birds singing, pausing to think how lucky I was to listen to these cheerful sounding tweets and warbles. How different the atmosphere must feel, look, and sound like in cities ravaged by war.

Last night, we sat together as a family on the porch, watching and listening to a thunderstorm roll in, then witnessing a rainbow growing brighter in the sky moment by moment. Focusing on the good, counting our blessings, and carving out and holding onto moments of joy helps to ease the burden a little, maybe even enough to stand up a little straighter.

WORD: a speech sound or series of speech sounds that symbolizes and communicates a meaning usually without being divisible into smaller units capable of independent use. A written or printed character or combination of characters representing a spoken word. (Source: Merriam-Webster)

When the view includes swaying palm trees, clear pools, vibrant blooms, and a glistening ocean beyond, it’s hard to be distracted enough to tear yourself away. And yet, standing in the lobby of the Fairmont Kea Lani*, taking a mental snapshot on our last day on Maui, I felt a pull. Turning my head towards the hotel’s open-air cultural center, I saw an open dictionary and a small whiteboard inviting me to look up the Hawaiian word of the day.

Akahai: Modest, gentle, unassuming, unpretentious, unobtrusive, docile, decorous, meek, suave; meekness, modesty.

What a marvel that one word was defined by so many other single words! I love how this illustrates how one word, however unassuming, contains depth and a labyrinth of meaning. Looking down the page, I saw that akahana means to work carefully or slowly, and that akahao means to pick up carefully. Glancing to the left-hand side of the page, I read that akai means to eat slowly, carefully. ‘Aka means to laugh; laughter.

I have been drawn to words and language for as long as I can remember. I’m sure that the fact my parents were studying French in college and met in Pau, France during a study abroad trip has something to do with it. When we lived in Paris, my mom studied at La Sorbonne and I attended a bilingual Montessori school for the first couple years we lived there (which I credit for my present day French fluency, though I am a little rusty). When my family lived in Jakarta, I started learning Bahasa Indonesia in fifth grade. I was amazed at the phonetic pronunciation of words and the freedom from conjugating verbs or struggling to grasp future perfect tenses as I continued studying French throughout middle school.

Words and language open us up to new worlds and cultures, but I think they have the power to connect to us on an individual level in the communities we call home. Considering what a word means to you and how it differs from someone else’s interpretation invites us to consider different lived experiences. One of the joys of writing this newsletter is hearing from readers on a word that resonated for them, or gave them pause, or made them consider a word from a different perspective and reflect that meaning back to their own life.

When I was living in Chambéry, France during my own college study abroad program, my host family used to tease me because I always asked “Qu’est-ce que ça veut dire?”, or “What does that mean?” when I heard or read unfamiliar words or phrases. It was a point of connection and then of pride when I worked the word into my vocabulary. I believe that asking what something means, or asking for clarification on what someone means by using a particular word, has the possibility to stoke our curiosity and gently nudges us to continue a lifelong pursuit of learning in our everyday.

I like the idea of embracing akahai as a quality of being modest or gentle with ourselves and with one another. And I’m grateful for the reminder that the power a word has to unlock meaning in each of us.

*Thank you to the Fairmont Kea Lani for hosting part of my family’s stay during our Maui vacation and for your generous hospitality!

ROMANCE: a close relationship between two people who are in love with each other. The feeling of excitement or mystery that you have from a particular experience or event. A story about love. (Source: Cambridge Dictionary)

What I love about being a word nerd and researching definitions and etymology and then thinking about it within the scope of my own life, is that I’m often surprised. I previously had quite a narrow definition of romance, thinking of it as being a relationship between two people, or using the word romantic to describe something swoon-worthy or in a love sense. I love thinking about romance as the excitement or mystery you have from an experience or an event or even a place.

I used to think I didn’t like reading romance novels (or maybe it was because I was too busy reading memoir, both because I enjoy them and I’m trying to be well-versed in the genre I hope to publish in). These days, romance is one of the most popular and best-selling genres, and the category goes far beyond lusty trysts (though those are fun to read too!). One of the books that changed my mind about romance novels was New York City-based author Ali Rosen’s first novel, Recipe for Second Chances, and it was a thrill to read her second novel, Alternate Endings, and see how much more she had developed her craft and her voice. I still need to read her third book, Unlikely Story, but I’ve started her delicious fourth novel, Slow Burn. I am obsessed with the heroine, Kit, a Michelin-starred chef whose boyfriend breaks up with her on the night her New York City restaurant burns down, and how she comes to finds herself in a rustic town in Italy where she learns to make pasta from her friend’s nonna—and falls in love with an olive oil maker. It makes sense that Rosen’s work would be the thing to change my mind, given that her novels have a food angle (and recipes!) as well as international locales at their heart, too.

The etymology of the word romance includes c. 1300, romaunce “a story, written or recited, in verse, telling of the adventures of a knight, hero, etc.” (Source: Online Etymology Dictionary) Rosen’s books feature strong women protagonists who aren’t afraid to show their messy sides even if it means being less liked, which I find such a refreshing point of view! Thinking about romance as a story that tells the adventure of a hero makes me think that all books are in some way a romance in the sense that there is always a hero’s journey. And in the narrative of our own lives, we are all living a romance as the hero’s of our own story and in our quest to find excitement and fulfillment and to solve the mysteries of the human experience.

A few years ago I had the pleasure of having a lovely dinner with Rosen and our mutual friend Charlotte over Basque food at Txikito (one of my favorite NYC restaurants that I simply must get back to!), a few months before her first book came out. It’s been a joy to see her pursue her passion of writing romance novels and the candor she shares about writing and promoting a book—follow her on Instagram if you want to see the hustle and grind she put into promoting Slow Burn and part of what it takes for your book to earn a spot on the USA Today bestseller list (also follow for lots of gelato and food posts!). It’s always a treat to chat with Rosen—read on for our conversation, including how she defines romance, a look into her writing and research process, her next novel, and the romantic NYC restaurant she can’t get enough of.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

How do you define romance?

I think romance is any book that a large portion of the story is focused on two or more people falling in love, and it ends with a happily ever after or a happily for now kind of ending. I think this gets debated to no end but I don’t think those are movable things. You wouldn’t read a thriller or a whodunnit where you don’t find out who does it at the end. You can put them through it, they can go through horrible things but a book where somebody dies is a love story, a romance—they have to end up together.

What inspired you to start writing romance? Have you always been a romance genre reader?

Yeah, I’ve always been a reader of romance. I never thought of myself as a fiction writer. I grew up—my parents were lawyers; my dad’s hobby is writing history books so I don’t think I ever allowed myself to believe that that was for me. And I also used to put a lot more pressure on myself to read what I “should” be reading, so it was always romance mixed with a lot of literary fiction, memoir, and non-fiction. When COVID started and everybody was trapped, everything that I was doing stopped. I couldn’t film my show; I used to do a lot of recipe work for brands—everybody was just paused.

And I was reading a lot, and I really only wanted to read things that I knew would be okay in the end. And it made me think, ‘Maybe this would be a fun exercise for me to write something.’ Because I really had no creative outlet. Fiction had not occurred to me because I had other creative outlets. And so, during COVID it was like, ‘I have nothing, and I want joy.’ So, I started writing.

Was there something that you strove to bring to your stories that you felt was missing in other romance novels?

Yes, I think any writer has to believe they’re bringing something new to the table. The thing that I can bring to the table is a lot of knowledge about food and travel that other people don’t have. And I like to write really confident, hardworking adult characters who are messy and sometimes unlikeable, so that has been my north star of ‘What do I think my books bring to table?’ There’s always food and travel, so there’s that level of escapism. But also I’m not looking to write a ditzy heroine. I like to find hyper confident women and put them through it.

But I also think one of the great myths around romance is about the writing. If somebody would try to claim that Tia Williams or Kennedy Ryan or Nikki Payne or Kate Clayborn are not writing at the same level of prose as any literary fiction, that to me is just a sign that you haven’t read good romance. People think of it as fluffy. There are a lot of books that deal with so much of our humanity, it’s just you can read about it in context, like, ‘Okay, I know that on some level this is going to be okay in the end,’ so it feels safer to explore a lot of those difficult themes.

Can you share a little bit about your process and writing practice?
I’m a big fan of: If you’re writing something, put your butt in the chair, set a word count, and try to get to it. Which doesn’t mean it’ll happen every day. I don’t think the magic of ‘lightning will strike at this moment’ is true. You have to put in the work, and trust that even on days when it feels hard you just have to do it.

The germ of any [of my] books starts in my Notes app with a frantically disheveled mess of themes, thoughts, and lines. Then I’ll write an outline and put all my messy notes in. I write in Scrivener [a word processing program for long-form writing]—I think Scrivener is the greatest tool for writers. It just helps organize thoughts. It’s one thing to write article, but it’s another thing to write a book and hold an entire story in your mind in one place.

I think that romance being a fiction genre is helpful because you know there are certain beats you have to get to. You know that you need to have 80,000 to 100,000 words; for me that usually means 30-something chapters. If I’m wanting to get to get to 30 chapters the outline might be 20 or 22 chapters because things will come up and shift as you go. In the next book I’m writing, I had a character—I had fully drafted it—who was too nice, so I was like, ‘I guess I have to go back and completely change this human!’ I think not being precious about it while also having a general outline—that’s what works for me.

I’m very much a little treats person—it’s like, okay, you hit your word count today, you can have this piece of chocolate. Or like, you have to get through this before you can write this fun thing.

How do you do research for your books, whether it’s world building or how you develop your characters?
It’s really different for every book. The idea for Slow Burn came from a press trip to an olive oil grove and I was learning so much about how olive oil is made. And I was like, ‘This is a romance novel.’ And then the next summer we rented a house near there in a little quirky and lovely town near Tuscany.

My next book, The Apparent Trap, I wanted them to go somewhere in Scandinavia. They work at a morning show. My research for that was, I was a page, I worked in nightly news, I do theToday Show a lot, that’s a place that I have knowledge of. I wanted to send them somewhere to cover the winter Olympics, so I had to make up a fictitious winter place. Ten years ago I’d been to Northern Sweden; ‘I was like, this would be so fun.’ I went back to Sweden to do some [research]. I like to believe that my books take people on a vacation to a place.

The people–I would say every book ends up having a theme. With my first book, I really wanted to explore anxiety and how that affects relationships, as an anxious person. In my second book, I wanted to think about motherhood, fertility, and being working mothers, and how that affects women in their love lives. With Unlikely Story I was really interested in this idea of how there isn’t any one version of any one person. How do we present ourselves; what is real and not real? In Slow Burn I was very interested in exploring ambition, especially ambition for women. [My next book] The Apparent Trap is a lot about delayed grief and how loss affects us years later. You know the theory that the Sex in the City women are all different sides of one woman? All the characters are different pieces of me but none of them are me.

And then by the end I have sensitivity readers. For Unlikely Story, which has a therapist, I had two therapists the read book. For Slow Burn, I had Italian readers. I’ve always had readers of the places [I’ve written about].

Can you tell us about your new book?

The Apparent Trap is basically about a woman whose dad starts dating somebody way too young and so she and the girl’s dad team up to try to break them up, and they fall in love in the interim. I promise the ages work out in that. He’s not too old for her either! I call it my reverse parent trap book—they’re trying to break people up instead of trying to get them back together.

Who are some other romance authors you admire?

A lot of those people I mentioned before. Tia Williams and Kate Clayborn—I’m so in awe of their prose. I’ve been so lucky to have so many writers that I admired their work from afar become friends and be able to bounce things off of. I had dinner last night last night with Lauren Kung Jessen, whose books I loved, and we spent an entire evening talking about book marketing and how we’re feeling about it. It’s wild to have people whose work you were a fan of and then get to be their friend.

Do you have any recent favorite romance novels to recommend?
The best book that I read recently was The Best Worst Thing by Lauren Okie. That knocked me sideways because it’s so funny and so rip-your-heart-out, which I think is really, really hard to do.

What are your favorite romantic restaurants in New York City?
I love Leon’s. It’s Italian but with a hint of Egyptian. Everything is so good; they make the pasta. And it’s open all day so if someone’s like ‘Let’s get a coffee and a scone’, or for lunch, it’s always there.

Is there somewhere you like to go to treat yourself?

Pamina Dolci e Gelato. I think they make the best gelato in New York. They own an Italian shop next door, too. It’s an Italian guy, they make in house, it’s just one location, and it’s so good.

Do you have a go-to flavor or two?

They do fruit flavors from local stuff, so like in the summer they have Mara de Bois strawberries, apricots; in the fall they have a Concord grape flavor. There’s a flavor called tropical—it’s like mango-passionfruit—that they have all the time. And just their straight-up chocolate, they also have an olive oil one…

How can people find you and support your work?

The best way is Substack. My newsletter is Ali’s Happy Books—I usually recommend a cookbook and a novel that I’m enjoying, and then I usually put some happy news of the week, so like articles and things. It’s just my little place to spread joy.

BALANCING ACT: an attempt to handle or deal with two or more things (such as obligations) at one time so as to satisfy often competing requirements. (Source: Merriam-Webster)

Balance has often seemed like an elusive goal to achieve and yet it is an unavoidable construct in modern lives, where we seek to strike a better work-life balance, or prioritize self-care while caring for others, or navigate balancing output and rest.

The term balancing act is said to be derived from circus acts, where daring feats like tightrope walking or acrobatics require extraordinary precision and focus to execute. It’s fitting then, during a recent outing to the circus with my mom and daughter, that I kept returning to the word balance and thinking of how it related to my present. The juggler managing an increasing load of sticks to toss, twirl, and catch. The literal balancing acts of the daring acrobats, aloft in the air or on precarious implements of increasing height. Even the performers launching themselves into twists and flips on the trampoline, their bodies contorted and tight to balance strength and finesse.

The acrobatics, aerialist moves, trapeze tricks, and trampoline daring reminded me of the way our daily lives require us to act, performing elaborate spins and flips, catapulting ourselves from one task to another for the sake of performing our daily duties, bound by a drive to optimize our time, energy, and performance. What really struck me about this analogy is that these circus acts contain a fixed number of variables, whereas our daily schedules have shifting priorities and we often try adding in additional spinning plates. It’s no wonder we are susceptible to overwhelm, as we try to tend to our basic needs and well-being, care for others, whether it’s an ailing partner or friend, aging parents, or children, and pursue our own passions and professional success.

I’m guilty of crafting a schedule so demanding—a workload that supports my ambition while caring for and being present for my family, and trying to pursue other things that are important to me, like my memoir, feeling good in my body, taking trips, and having time to read and write—that it’s clear why it all comes crashing down more often than I’d like to admit.

A circus act is also for a finite time period. Our lives, to a point, are a continuous time lapse, and we can’t keep up a balancing act long-term unless we are actively prioritizing, finding the pressure points, and identifying points of stability and reset. I’m thinking lately of a tripod, choosing three areas of priority supported by three areas of reprieve. They will shift with time and life’s surprises and demands, but it alleviates the pressure of performing multiple balancing acts—I can’t be the juggler, aerialist, and trapeze artist. I don’t want to spring-load my days such that I am cartwheeling and flipping from one thing to the next to perform the mental gymnastics required to execute the routine I’ve set out for myself. I don’t want to feel like I am launching myself from project to project like a human cannon ball.

If we are so busy keeping all the balls in the air, we cannot identify a time to set them all down, to give us time and space to recalibrate what we can realistically manage at a pertain point or day to day. It’s okay to step off the stage, to not have to optimize your performance for gains or applause, to choose something else to juggle for a bit. I’ve also been using this framework to help me identify what I can set to the side, what opportunities I might say not right now to, what I can say no to, all in service to my own balance that prioritizes being rather than performing.

Memoir Updates

If you read my last long-form newsletter, you know that I received a request for a full manuscript from a New York literary agency. I held out hope that this would be “the one” and relished the chance to be evaluated on my writing rather than a book proposal. Ultimately, the agency decided to pass. It was disappointing, but it also felt like checking off another milestone on my publishing journey. They said some nice things about the premise, how richly I convey the past and the journey I’ve undergone with respect to my relationship to food, and called it an “intriguing narrative.” Still, it’s deflating to be on the receiving end of rejection, as much as I try to stay positive about it.

I am grateful to my writing group for lifting me up and for their constant cheerleading. It’s really hard to cultivate the faith required to persevere, to return to drawing board, and go after it again. I love what Laura wrote to me, which was that rejections arrive without context and most passes aren’t critiques of one’s writing, but rather are shaped by timing, taste, lists, and bandwidth. “A rejection ONLY means your book didn’t land in the right hands that day. Nothing more. The hardest part of querying is staying steady while the answers trickle in. Keep going.” I’ve resolved to keep going, which will certainly require me to recalibrate what my balancing act will look like in the coming weeks.

Published Articles & Media Appearances

• Taste America Chef Dining Guides for the James Beard Foundation

  As part of the James Beard Foundation’s national dining series, Taste America, I interviewed 16 chefs from the 2025-2026 TasteTwenty cohort about their favorite places to eat, drink, and shop in their city, like Houston chef Ope Amosu’s spot to find Beyoncé-approved chicken and waffles, or New York City chef Mary Attea’s go-to order at an iconic bagel shop. I’m bookmarking this page for recommendations for future trips, from Asheville to Nashville, Santa Fe to San Juan.

• 2026 Food Trends Coverage

  I interviewed nearly a dozen chefs for my Flavor Forecast for the James Beard Foundation’s blog to see what dining, drinking, and hospitality trends will look like for the year ahead. And locally, I made my own predictions for the Roanoke Rambler about what we can look forward to eating and drinking in Roanoke this year, from morning buns to tropical cocktails.

• Corner Booth: The Haven Opens, Covenant Coffee to Brew at Unique Roanoke Location, Experiencing Vinegar Pie

  My February food news column for the Roanoke Rambler just came out, with two exciting opening announcements and a mini history lesson on vinegar pie at Mama Jean’s Barbecue. If you’re a Roanoke Rambler reader, please feel free to comment or send me a “where to eat” dining question for me to answer in a future edition.

Books, Bites & Beverages

Books:

I just finished Notes on Infinity by Austin Taylor, in which two Harvard chemistry students develop a theory for curing aging, and the ensuing madness of launching a biotech start-up, navigating fame and media, and producing valid data to appease both investors and the scientific community. Intertwined in all of this is a love story between the two students, and the prices we pay when we blindly pursue love and a vision.

I also finally finished Briefly Perfectly Human, a memoir by death doula Alua Arthur. I started reading this book ages ago, but found that I needed to take it in small increments, particularly after my Dad was diagnosed with and subsequently beat brain cancer. I love how the author blended her personal stories with those of her clients, anchored by brilliant context on the way that we regard death in contemporary Western society. It gave me new ways to think about death, but also, as the book promises, ways to lead a more authentic life while we are given this precious gift.

Bites:

After four days of eating very well in New York with some of my favorite people, I could do a whole newsletter about my favorite eats. One memorable experience was finally checking out Wildair, a cool wine bar on the Lower East Side with inventive dishes from chefs Fabián von Hauske and Jeremiah Stone. I hadn’t made it there while I lived in New York, and that the place is still there ten years later is a testament to the thoughtful concept and rigorous approach to curating natural wines (yet presenting it in a way that feels approachable) and developing the kind of complementary plates that surprise and delight.

A few highlights from Wildair: Plump, briny cooked oysters served chilled in a pool of housemade almond milk and XO sauce (one of their O.G. dishes, pictured above); pithivier with layers of ham and Comté baked inside puff pastry with ample, artsy squiggles of spicy egg yolk sauce, that looked and ate like the most gourmet savory toaster pastry/croque monsieur; succulent slices of grilled Iberico pork with a zingy kimchi Romesco and Caraflex cabbage seasoned with an herbaceous white kimchi; and for dessert, a luscious, warm apple tart with a crackly, delicate shell, with salted caramel and melty aged cheddar, and capped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Beverages:

It was such a treat to start my NYC trip by sharing dinner with brother Will, who lives and works in NYC. Back when my husband and I lived here, and he was a student at Yale, we took turns visiting each other once a month, for dinner or brunch, and it was so fun to be together again, reminisce, and celebrate how far we’ve both come. We dined at Passerine, a beautiful Indian restaurant in Gramercy, that I highly recommend for the food (the ghee-roasted chicken in a luscious, exquisitely spiced curry, perfect for mopping up with paratha, was a standout), warm hospitality, and cocktails. I really enjoyed the one my server helped me select called A Place in the Garden (pictured above). It’s a clarified cocktail (clarifying is a process that renders a cocktail perfectly clear) anchored by silver rum and Empirical Cilantro (an herbaceous, vegetal spirit), shot through with a balance of earthy, bright, peppery, and zesty notes from saffron, green cardamom, and lime.

HOPE: a desire accompanied by expectation of obtaining what is desired or belief that it is obtainable. Someone or something on which hopes are centered. Something desired or hoped for. (Source: Merriam-Webster)

Hope against hope. Hope springs eternal. A glimmer of hope. Keep hope alive.

We have so many idioms and phrases related to hope, but hope feels like such a fleeting thing. It is hard to truly pin down its meaning—it is more than just positive vibes, yet what it means to you is different than what it means to me, guided in part, I think, by factors like emotions, spirituality, values, and lived experience.

Yet I keep reaching for hope. The idea of it. But to truly hold on to it, to embody it, I seek to better understand how to cultivate it. And to understand the power of collective hope during times of uncertainty, chaos, and upheaval, destruction and disruption. When our society’s fundamental human rights are threatened on a daily basis, it can be hard to believe that hope will move the needle toward obtaining what we desire. Researching the word hope led me to this article by The Journalist’s Resource, and one cited quote in particular stuck out to me:

Anthony Scioli, a clinical psychologist and author of several books on hope, defines hope “as an emotion with spiritual dimensions,” in a 2023 review published in Current Opinion in Psychology. “Hope is best viewed as an ameliorating emotion, designed to fill the liminal space between need and reality.”

Maybe, then, hope can be found in that liminal space, by focusing on what is within our control. What would make you feel better or taken care of in the moment? Is there a way to ease someone else’s strife? Maybe it is volunteering in your community or donating money to a cause if it’s within your ability and means. Perhaps it is shoveling your neighbor’s driveway after a snowstorm, or making a hot breakfast for your child or yourself. Perhaps it is taking a break from your newsfeed and heading to the kitchen or garden or gym, or your chosen place of respite.

All of these actions may feel insignificant in the moment, but they add up. They help us to practice cultivating hope, even if at first it feels like we are only staving off hopelessness rather than reaching something that feels like hope. As a writer, I have to believe that words are an instrument of hope. That words have the power to ground us or provide an escape, to offer us another perspective or comfort us by meeting us where we are.

I love this poem by Emily Dickinson, “Hope” is the thing with feathers (Source: The Poems of Emily Dickinson Edited by R. W. Franklin (Harvard University Press, 1999). Every time I see or hear a bird, it gives me a flutter of hope, a feeling that hope can take flight and reach desired heights once more.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

By Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Tondo by Nick Cave, part of the Giants exhibition at VMFA.

ART: Something that is created with imagination and skill and that is beautiful or that expresses important ideas or feelings. (Source: The Britannica Dictionary)

When I visit an art museum, something interesting happens. I slow down, I let myself adjust to an ambling pace, drifting from room to room, work to work, following wherever my heart pulls me, and lingering when I feel moved. It feels like a luxury, something at once intimate, when your focus tunnels in and it feels like just you and a piece of art, and communal, when you zoom back out and realize you’re sharing an experience with a room full of strangers. I like to let my mind roam, not focusing on what I am supposed to feel or interpret, and just let it wash over me. I read the plaque sometimes, take another look. Visual art has a way of filling me up and nourishing me, satiating cravings for connection, meaning, and knowledge, and satisfying hungers I didn’t even know I had.

. . they were just hanging out . . . you know . . . talking about . . . (. . . when they grow up . . .) by Ebony G. Patterson, part of the Giants exhibition at VMFA.

Receiving and appreciating art in any form is a gift. I am in awe of the creator who took the time, who made something even when the deck was stacked against them or they feared persecution, who believed in the power and vulnerability of making something that is an expression of themselves and has the potential of being greater than themselves. Consuming art—whether it’s a photograph, a sculpture, a poem, a song, a novel—gives us a window into another world, another mind, another perspective, another lived experience. It may evoke emotion or indifference, delight or dismay, but it causes a reaction. Art stirs something in us, and even the slightest moments of emotion create a ripple, enough to remind us of our own humanity. We see a painting, we hear a song, we feel for a character in a book, and perhaps it makes us feel seen, heard, and considered in return.

Soundsuit by Nick Cave, part of the Giants exhibition at VMFA.

Yesterday, in my writing group, we wondered aloud: why do we do it? Why, as writers, do we torture ourselves with the creation of a story, the slog of revision, the uncertainty of publishing? Because we believe in the power of storytelling, that our dedication to our craft and belief in our stories and ideas and imagination matter. Because we feel we have something to say, and we should not let a sense of malaise or hopelessness or censorship (self-imposed or otherwise) overtake us, rendering us mute or forcing our hand to put the pen down. A memoir instructor once told us that we have a moral obligation to share our stories. If you can write, you should.

I love this quote from Toni Morrison’s essay “No Place for Self-Pity, No Room for Fear,” which was penned after the re-election of George W. Bush in 2004, and which I have seen surface often over the last few years.

“This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.

I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge — even wisdom. Like art.”

Fallou by Jordan Casteel, part of the Giants exhibition at VMFA.

Making and appreciating art has the potential to bring us joy, to heal from trauma, to make a statement, to help us resist, to offer us respite. Even if we make something that is not meant to be shared, the act of making art is an outlet, a conduit for our thoughts, a way of recording what’s happening in our lives or making sense of whatever is occupying headspace and heart space.

Choose your preferred medium and go forth. Make art. Because it matters, now more than ever.

BASIC: the essential facts or principles of a subject or skill. (Source: Oxford Languages)

When when we go back to basics, we return to the simplest and most important things, perhaps things we’ve ignored for awhile. (Source: Cambridge Dictionary) In that spirit, going back to basics can help us return to our priorities, the principles that are most meaningful to us, or whatever serves us best in the moment.

Basics lay the foundation we need to support goal setting and stretching ourselves. Or it can simply provide a solid base for everyday living. I don’t mean to imply that you do this so you can do more or be more—you are enough as you are. But going back to basics can be a helpful mindset shift, particularly when the focus is very much on a “new year, new you,” resolution setting, rebirth sort of outlook.

My friend Shannon Settlemyre, who founded Write To Your Mom and makes recycled, handmade paper and cards, has a particularly wonderful outlook on life and creativity. She recently said to me, winter is a time of hibernation, not rebirth. That’s for spring. I reflected on that and it makes a lot of sense. Now is the time to lean on our stores, or replenish them if the holiday season and end of year swirl have left us depleted. My mom shared something recently that resonates (though she can’t remember where she heard it now): Eat when you’re hungry, rest when you’re tired. It seems so simple, yet how many of us override those basic needs in service to our goals or to serve others, whether it’s our families, jobs, or community organizations.

Another pearl of Mom wisdom: Do the next right thing, as best you can. Sometimes the next right thing is to make yourself a snack or to lie down for 10 minutes. I often get to this point in my mind and body where I think and feel: “I cannot do one more thing.” And that’s no way to live. This month, so far, I’ve tried to be intentional and also gentle with myself. Preparing a second breakfast before I start work (if I take myself out, I love this banana bread smoothie bowl from Fruits & Roots in Roanoke, pictured above) or a snack plate to munch on mid-morning at my desk. Going for a walk, and not chiding myself if I don’t feel up to weightlifting. Putting my feet up to read for 15 minutes to alleviate the strain of the mental gymnastics required to navigate the logistics of daily life. Or checking in with myself and giving myself a buffer instead of racing to the next thing in the name of crossing something off my perpetual to-do list: finish an assignment, run errands, make dinner, take the dog for a walk, fold clothes (I’ve almost given up on folding clothes these days), etc. etc.

Yesterday, something simple but wonderful happened. I noticed that I had time to visit my close friend Amy on her birthday. I had bought her two specialty chocolate bars and I could’ve waited to give them to her when we go out to dinner in a couple weeks. But I thought how nice it would be to see her and give her a hug, and for her to have something to unwrap on her birthday. I had the idea to wrap the bars with magazine pages, and it was such a nice activity to page through old issues of New York Magazine, selecting the pages, carefully cutting and removing them, and taking care to wrap, fold, and tape. I added ribbon and wrote her a heartfelt card. It felt so joyful and brought a sense of ease and contentment to my day. An act that seemed so basic was actually filled with so much intention and meaning.

Paying attention to our fundamental needs—nourishment and rest—can lay the foundation for creating more ease and spaciousness in our day. This expansiveness gives way to a more present way of being in our bodies, with ourselves, and with others. When the essentials are taken care of, we give ourselves a chance to dream, to invite the possibility of considering ‘what’s next?’

One more note: The photos in this week’s newsletter are snaps from my family’s short but sweet trip to Washington, D.C. this past weekend! As always, thank you for being here!

CURIOSITY: desire to know: inquisitive interest in others’ concerns; interest leading to inquiry. (Source: Merriam-Webster)

The word curiosity has been percolating in my mind for a few months now, especially the notion of “getting curious” in the context of my memoir revision. It helps me to approach the page with less trepidation, where a myriad of craft choices await: the placement of flashbacks, trimming a scene or letting it out, word choice, structure, plot, chapter breaks, etc. Approaching revision with curiosity gives me a certain freedom, a bit of breathing room to consider possibilities without fear. It also helps to remember my writing instructor Rachael Herron’s wise words: “You can’t break your book!”

Storytelling is inherently driven by curiosity. Brian Grazer, an award-winning writer and producer (in 2002 he won the Best Picture Oscar for A Beautiful Mind), wrote in his book A Curious Mind: The Secret to a Bigger Life: “Curiosity is what drives human beings out into the world every day, to ask questions about what’s going on around them, about why they behave the way they do. Storytelling is the act of bringing home the discoveries learned from curiosity. The story is a report from the front lines of curiosity.”

As a food journalist, I am curious about a topic, a person, a restaurant, or a cuisine, and I want to know more about it or them, whether it’s what drives or inspires someone, or what something means in the context of a community, a culinary cannon, or a personal legacy, for example. As a writer—someone who journals, pens a newsletter, and authors books—curiosity is what sparks creativity and gives a story life. As part of Grazer’s process as a storyteller and filmmaker, he asks a set of questions which he shares in A Curious Mind:

• What’s the right tone for this story?

• Why are the characters in this story in trouble?

• What connects the characters in this story to each other?

• What makes this story emotionally satisfying?

• Who is telling this story, and what is that person’s point of view? What is his challenge? What is her dream?

• And most important, what is this story about? The plot is what happens in the story, but that plot is not what the story is about.

What has kept me persistently thinking about the word curiosity lately is how it apples to one’s personal life. Part of secret of curiosity, Grazer explains, is that it is not just a tool that sparks creativity. Curiosity sparks inspiration in whatever work you do. I believe that applies to personal growth work (and it is work!) as well—what is personal growth if not a desire to know oneself better? Being curious about our own lives and asking questions, examining other ways of living or behavior or decision making, shows us that how we’re doing something right now isn’t the only way. And just because we’ve always done something a certain way doesn’t mean it’s the best way, or that it serves us where we are right now.

If we employ curiosity as a way to broaden our mindset, to focus not on a fixed outcome or response but to consider other possibilities, it can lead to a more expansive way of being. Curiosity invites reflection, whether we point the lens of inquiry inward or toward someone else. This allows us to consider other perspectives, circumstances, or motivations—to see that the story we’re telling ourselves or the narrative our mind makes up about someone else isn’t the only one. I believe that cultivating curiosity allows us to develop a growth mindset. Perhaps curiosity give us the flexibility to reach further, dream bigger, to relax rigidity around preconceived notions or expectations, to really examine what gives our life meaning. Maybe being curious has the potential not only to bring us closer to our purpose and personal contentment, but to inspire curiosity in others too.

TAKE A BEAT: stop for a moment to relax; pause and think about what you are doing. (Source: Urban Dictionary)

A couple weeks ago, in the midst of a work trip, I received some good news from one of the literary agencies I’d queried: a request for a full manuscript. I was thrilled, but also panicked, as I had a full work day ahead and while my memoir was in good shape to send out, but I still hadn’t finished the epilogue. I quickly updated my writing group via our Discord chat, telling them the good news and that I was just going to leave the epilogue out for now and get up early to put a final polish on the manuscript. Laura, a published author, offered some advice: “You can take a beat before you send it…In case you want to get the epilogue done.”

That hadn’t occurred to me, and I explained to the group that I was slammed with work and didn’t want to rush, though I did want to be timely given the looming end of the year but didn’t really see when I’d be able to finish. Tracy, an illustrator and publishing industry pro offered: “Given the time of year, I think you can let them know you’ll send them the full manuscript January 5th.” Laura agreed, saying, “You set the timeline expectation. In your lovely, diplomatic way.”

In Robert McKee’s storytelling craft book, Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting, a beat is defined as the smallest unit of story structure and an “exchange of behavior in action/reaction,” a moment where a character’s action prompts a clear change or response that drives the scene forward and shifts the emotional or situational value. In music, a beat is the basic unit of time.

I love to think about what these pauses mean in the context of taking a beat, and how that alters our response to a situation or how a story unfolds, and how, over time, the consistent taking of beats might alter the rhythms of our lives. For me, taking a beat makes me less prone to a knee jerk reaction, or latching on to anxiety or fear, or making a decision to counter the steady drumbeat of not enoughness. The rushing to get something done for fear of looking unprofessional or unprepared, or to not let anyone down. To uphold impossible standards of perfection and perception, responding to a situation out of how I am perceived instead of relishing the perfection of showing up as I am now.

Taking a beat invites reflection, to make time slightly more elastic, to expand the moment so that we can just be, a relative moment of calm before the sharp inhale of our emotions and neuroses intervene with their own ego-driven response. I have been craving a slow-down, an antidote to this feeling of “my time is not my own.” Taking a beat invites us to examine what we want the rhythms of our day to feel and sound like, to create the pacing that best fits the story as defined by the narrative of one’s own life.

Memoir Updates

I decided to follow my writing group’s advice and take a beat before I send in my full manuscript. I’ll give it one more read-through and draft the epilogue, and if I’m happy with it, I’ll include it. It feels so refreshing to have been asked for more pages of my work rather than a book proposal, but I know that the book proposal is an important tool not only to hook an agent, but a publisher as well. So I’ll also revise my book proposal with more of an eye toward marketing and sales, so that I have a more compelling pitch. I think that exercise will be useful in identifying who my audience is (including the lovely readers of this newsletter!) and ensure that I’m delivering a book that is satisfying to them as well.

Published Articles & Media Appearances

• Treating Yourself Well

  For En Forme, a Virginia-based lifestyle magazine, I wrote about wellness experiences that reflect a sense of place. As I write in the introduction, I tried to write about wellness, that sneakiest of buzzwords, from a holistic and dynamic viewpoint to capture experiences that invite rest, movement, rejuvenation, or a mental reset. One of my favorite ways to reset is to take a soak in the mineral-rich waters of the Warm Springs Pools (pictured above).

• 9 Best Baking Cookbooks of 2025 and 7 Best Cookbooks of 2025

  For Food Network online, I wrote my annual cookbook gift guide round-ups, which was as fun and challenging as ever. I think it’s interesting to see what cookbooks have to say about how we eat, gather, and shop, and the sheer diversity of voices, experiences, and viewpoints reflected.

• British Baker Nicola Lamb Has Strong Opinions About Holiday Cookies and Make and Bake: Pastry Pros and Bakers’ Cherished Holiday Treats

  For the James Beard Foundation blog, I interviewed British cookbook author Nicola Lamb about holiday cookies (or biscuits as she calls them—I had fun recalling the biscuit assortment tins I got to sample when I lived in Scotland as a kid) and she shared two amaretti recipes from her award-winning book Sift. And I interviewed seven James Beard Award-nominated pastry chefs and bakers about their favorite holiday treats and traditions; it was so fun to hear about their memories and what they look forward to making and eating outside their restaurants and bakeries.

• REVIEW: Famished: On Food, Sex, and Growing Up as a Good Girl by Anna Rollins

  For Hippocampus, I reviewed Famished by Anna Rollins, a memoir about growing up with the dual forces of evangelical purity culture and diet culture. The book is beautifully written and structured, and I was so taken by the themes of appetites (especially since the notion of what we crave on and off the plate is a central theme of my own memoir in progress). As Rollins writes in the preface, “The more women I spoke with, the more I felt I had found a lost sisterhood trying to redefine a way to take up space and reclaim our appetites for life, love, and food, both physical and spiritual.”

• Corner Booth: Hot Stuff, Vinton and Global Blend Cafés Open, Layla Checks Out Mama Jean’s

  My monthly column for the Roanoke Rambler shared details on a new food shop that highlights local makers (which inspired last week’s essay, Making An Impact), a mission-driven coffee shop that gives back, and my first impressions on the long-awaited opening of Mama Jean’s Barbecue’s brick-and-mortar restaurant (spoiler alert: I can’t wait to go back and sit at the bar and pair my ‘cue with one of the frozen cocktails or a bourbon from the page-length list).

Books, Bites & Beverages

Books:

I loved Next of Kin by Gabrielle Hamilton, who also penned the best-selling Blood, Bones & Butter: The Inadvertent Education of a Reluctant Chef, where we first meet many of the characters she details in Next of Kin. This memoir is incredibly well-written with the kind of poignant, specific details that make us feel we actually know a character or experienced a scene ourselves. But it left me with a heavy heart, to see and feel the way that family dynamics shift over time, how our relationship to our family of origin disintegrates or explodes, and how our perceptions of what we experienced as “normal” as kids shape-shift into what we need to unpack as adults and what does or does not serve us. But the fact that it’s staying with me is the mark of a thought-provoking and satisfying read.

I also finished Loved One, a debut novel by Emmy Award–winning writer Aisha Muharrar, about a woman whose first love-turned-best friend unexpectedly dies, and navigating the loss, grief, and unanswered questions while journeying to London to recover his lost possessions (while also dealing with his last ex-girlfriend). On the whole I loved it; where it lagged in pacing in the middle, it made up for in emotional complexity. It’s heartbreaking in a way, to think about grappling with the impossible questions we can no longer ask of the person we loved and lost, and how we pick up the pieces and try to make ourselves whole again.

Another exquisite but heartbreaking read was The River is Waiting by Wally Lamb, about a father whose life unravels due to addiction and the heartbreaking consequences that follow as a result of his actions. I couldn’t put it down but when my mom asked to borrow it, I told her that the ending was so sad that I couldn’t in good conscience recommend it to her.

Bites:

I travelled to Richmond, Virginia for a few days and it happened to coincide with the reopening of Sub Rosa Bakery, a year after owners Evrim and Evin Dogu lost their bakery in a fire. I’d interviewed the owners for a Food Network story The Best Bread Bakeries in America back in 2020 and never made it to Richmond (despite being a three-hour drive from Roanoke!) to sample the loaves, laminated pastries, and pogača (a savory Turkish pastry) myself. The pastries, crafted with freshly milled flour, kept me company on the drive home, but it was the fig jam pinwheel that stole my heart.

Beverages:

During happy hour with a new friend at Slack Tide Fish Co. in Richmond, I sipped the Billingsgate, a riff on the Vesper martini crafted with Tanqueray London dry gin, Ketel One vodka, quinquina blanc, recycled oyster shell stock, kombu, and white soy. It was served exceptionally cold and boasted an incredible minerality and savory note that paired perfectly with a platter of raw oysters.

IMPACT: have a strong effect on someone or something. (Source: Oxford Languages)

Many people say that writing is an act of faith, and I think that’s true. To have faith that writing and making art and creating will usher something new into the world, whether it’s recognition in oneself, a conversation spark, a glimmer of feeling, or full-throated emotion. When I write something and put it out into the world, I don’t know if people read my stories, or if they do, how they respond to it. There isn’t a tangible way to know the impact, unless someone tells me they’ve read something, leaves me a comment on an article, or likes a newsletter or social media post.

And I don’t write for the recognition—I write for the hopes of connection. Of bringing to light people and stories, others’ as well as my own, in hopes that people will feel seen, discover a sense of community, or gain a glimpse into a new-to-them culture or cuisine or way of looking at things. But it does make me feel really good when there is feedback like what I’m about to share below, because it shows me that our words and actions matter, and demonstrates the ripple effect that it has in ways big and small.

I recently wrote about Hot Stuff, a specialty local food and home goods shop for Corner Booth, my monthly food column for the Roanoke Rambler, spotlighting owners Lisa Archer and Jesse Feldberg and their intention for the business, and highlighting some of the local makers’ goods they carry. Archer is also a writer and the publisher of Edible Blue Ridge (which I occasionally contribute to), so she understands what it feels like to send your heartfelt words out into the void and wonder where they land, and if anyone is receiving them. She sent me this thoughtful text last Friday morning, and I teared up reading it in the Target parking lot.

“Hi Layla, I wanted to thank you again for featuring Hot Stuff in your Rambler column.

I think too often writing feels as if it exists in a bubble and honestly sometimes it feels as if we as people exist in our own little bubbles and sometimes it’s hard to remember the impact we have so I wanted to share this story from yesterday.

I was working at the shop and expecting a slow day as it’s a Thursday and cold and gray and a gentleman walked in shortly after I opened. He seemed a little scattered and looked around saying he was looking for a gift. He made some selections and then put them on the counter to see what his total was. He then asked if I was Lisa and said he subscribes to The Rambler and had read your article. He told me he wanted to spend his money on local businesses and we spoke about how important that is, especially in this time. He had brought $300 in cash and kept selecting more items until his goal came close to that. It was by far our biggest single sale yet. He introduced himself and said he would be back. Chris was kind and generous and it made my day. Then another family came in and they had also read your column and shopped for a few items with their kids.

All this to say, thank you for your generosity and for doing what you do.

Your work and words matter and yesterday they made a big difference to one small business in our community. Sending love and gratitude and wishing you a restful holiday season.”

I was so moved that Lisa took the time to share this story with me and to know that the work I do matters as much to readers and our community as I hope it does. It fortifies me to continue striving to uphold my purpose of serving others with my words, and to do so with care, integrity, and intention. It was exactly what I needed to hear, especially at the end of the year, a time when so many of us are facing burnout coupled with the pressures of holiday magic and memory making. And it reminds me that every time I ask someone how they are, be it a friend or grocery store cashier, or offer a smile to a stranger, or hold the door for someone—all these small actions can make an impact on someone’s day. How we show up in the world matters, whether with our words or our actions, and I have faith that they have the power to inspire all sorts of ripple effects: generosity, understanding, compassion, curiosity, and kindness. This is the impact that I hope to make.

GETAWAY: an escape or quick departure, especially after committing a crime. A vacation. (Source: Oxford Languages)

People often tell me that I have the best job in the world. And it’s true, not just from their perspective, i.e. that I get paid to eat and drink (I actually get paid to write, but tasty morsels and sips are a nice perk). It’s also true because I spent years of writing about food as my side hustle before starting my own business as a freelancer. Because writing about food has always given me a voice, something to say, something to connect to. As someone who spent their childhood looking for belonging and a safe place to show up fully as myself in the wake of moving around the world every few years, I found that sharing food, learning about other people’s stories and customs around food, and trying new dishes gave me that belonging.

But lately I’ve felt a disconnect in some ways. I was looking forward to a work trip to a winery outside Charlottesville, Virginia, where I’d planned to stay at their charming inn, visit their tasting room, and sample their wines and culinary offerings. And it was dreamy in many ways, especially with the inches of snow blanketing the vines and rolling hills, which set the backdrop for my wine tasting and lunch. And I had some incredible conversations and experiences, which I am excited to write about. But…I was alone, save for my phone to take photos and record conversations. I crammed in too much activity and food in my one full day, starting with breakfast (a pastry, a biscuit, fruit, an omelet, potatoes, bacon), followed by a tasting (at least six wines) with small bites plus lunch (pasta, Brussels sprouts), finishing with a four-course dinner plus five wine pairings.

I’ve worked really hard the last couple years to practice intuitive eating—stopping when I’m full, not berating myself for overeating, making decisions around food that feel good in my body, yet are separated from the narrative of good foods versus bad foods, obesity versus health. But on this trip I did not succeed. And by the time I got home, I felt awful. Not just bloated, queasy, and nauseous, but a deep sense of shame that simmered in my guts all day until I broke down on the couch that evening and told my husband everything on my mind. It was hard to admit the shame of overeating, but also the shame of getting to a place again where I’ve taken on too much. Shouldn’t I know better by now? I seem to constantly cycle between too much and not enough, which is one of the major themes of my memoir, particularly as it relates to the way that women sublimate or overindulge their appetites, both on and off the plate.

What was supposed to feel like a getaway for me (even though it was for work) was actually more of a wake-up call. And I realized if you split the words apart—‘get’ and ‘away’—and look at their etymology, it provides a useful framework for reflection.

GET: Get (v.) 1,200, from Old Norse geta “to obtain, reach; to be able to; to beget; to learn; to be pleased with. (Source: Online Etymology Dictionary)

AWAY: Away (adv.) Middle English awei, fro late Old English weg “on from this (that) place.” From c. 1300 to c. 1400, meanings included “from one’s own or accustomed place;” “from one state or condition to another;” that of “from one’s possession (give away, throw away)”. (Source: Online Etymology Dictionary)

Whether it’s around our professional life or personal growth, we can ask questions like:

1. What am I trying to obtain?

2. Where am I trying to get to?

3. What do I need to move away from?

4. How am I feeling now? Is there a different way I’d like to feel instead?

5. What can I let go of that is no longer serving me?

6. What do I want to be able to do?

For me, I’d like to move away from chronic busyness, which usually extends from overextending myself. Saying yes to too many things comes from a scarcity mindset that I am not doing enough, but it’s also a delicate balance that’s part and parcel of learning to run your own business. It means prioritizing time for myself on my calendar just like I do for other commitments, instead of constantly adjusting the calendar on my phone in a futile effort to make more time to fit it all in.

Disrupting the status quo can be uncomfortable—meaningful change usually is. But if we keep moving toward things that are in service to our lives, and away from the things that no longer do, we can move to another state of mind or being that more closely aligns with our true selves. What I mean by that is, what we project externally more closely reflects what we feel, want, or need internally.

I want to continue doing the work I’m doing, but I don’t need to say yes to everything. I don’t have to shoehorn my trips into shorter time periods because I feel like I cannot step away from home responsibilities. I can practice being kind to myself and make different decisions (not “better”) around what I consume and how I expend my energy. I can temper my ambition and not operate from a scarcity mindset.

One thing that I have to remind myself of, is that in doing this work (and it is work!), that we don’t necessarily “arrive” at some final destination. Rather, if we are open to change and in a growth mindset, we are consistently moving away from old patterns of behavior or ways of doing things, and getting closer to an expansive mindset where we are reaching for the things that truly fill us up. The things that please us. The experiences that help us learn to grow. The lessons that teach us to meet ourselves in the moment with curiosity and kindness, so that we can plot our next “get away.”