A Desk Manifesto + Reintroduction

Entering your inbox randomly with a note announcing a new weekly writers' salon.

I’ve been writing this newsletter for over four years now, to the point that I forget a lot of what I’ve published. When I have the vague sense that I wrote about something, I have to search to recover work from 2021, 2022—they feel so long ago. Starting the newsletter was an early act of pandemic desperation after years of contributing to outlets like the Village Voice, Edible Brooklyn, and many more lost to the digital graveyard of media had come to an end. Thus, I find that it’s useful to occasionally refresh readers on who I am and what this space is about. If I can barely remember what I’ve written, you should surely be forgiven for forgetting who I am and why you’re even getting these emails.

In these years, the newsletter has changed a lot and the space has become far more crowded, but my Monday essays have remained the same: They reflect where my head is, where my body is, what I’m reading, and to whom I’m talking. They’re not necessarily responding to the zeitgeist or discourse, but sometimes they are.

Recent images from life.

My only real rule for myself here is that these pieces do reflect what I’m thinking about and not what any certain milieu might want or expect. I can’t force myself into knowing what’s going on with crowds that I’m not part of, and I’m old enough not to want to force myself into conversations that aren’t natural to me. 

I’ve also used the newsletter as a forum for what’s called “public scholarship,” always running lectures or talks I’ve given, whether at universities like MIT, Bates College, and Boston University or at industry events like Terroir Symposium. I’m not an academic, just a writer and editor, and so I try to use these opportunities to better communicate how food studies can both inform and learn from food media.

And so I lied, I have another newsletter rule for myself: Keep these Monday pieces free, for reference and teaching purposes. This has become, sadly, increasingly difficult to justify—but I am holding on tight.

That I’ve built an audience through essays that run the gamut in topics from the experience of reading Vogue to the ethics of eating lionfish as a vegetarian never ceases to astound me. Thank you for being here.

It’s really not been a challenge to write books (my first is just out in paperback and I’m writing my second—working title On Eating: The Making and Unmaking of My Appetites—right now for Hachette) on top of keeping the newsletter going: This space has fueled me. I have a touch of graphomania, I think, and I need this more current, immediate outlet on top of the longer form projects. It’s gratifying to have a space where we can take both food seriously and understand its unending pleasure. 

As far as paid subscriptions go, they keep the lights on, but I also like having more intimate spaces for conversation around what we’re reading and listening to; what we’re eating and cooking; and books that push forward new ideas about food writing is and can be. 

I used to have a podcast that ran for over 100 episodes, and the archives with transcripts are still live. Interviews are making a return in the form of the new series “How Do You Eat?” The next installment will be coming in September.

I also still publish recipes, but I stopped regularly developing them because (1) that time is better spent working on my writing or reading and (2) it goes against my beliefs about overconsumption to constantly try to make something “new” for folks. Through the Monthly Menu, I try to provide insight and inspiration, and when a recipe makes sense to write down and I’ve made it many times, I do so.

In the spirit of finding more ways to have conversations with folks, starting Monday, we’ll be having a weekly salon, let’s call it (to be fancy), in the newsletter chat to discuss writing, idea generation, and what we’re reading, as well as share resources. Maybe you’re working on a piece that someone else is an expert in, or you’re just the person someone else needs to hire for a project. This will launch on Monday, July 1, for paid subscribers from 7 p.m. to 8 p.m. EST. 

I find a lot of writing courses and workshops to be quite expensive and focused on pitching—an activity with ever-diminishing returns—and so because I know many people are turning to independent publishing, as I did in 2020, I want to share more of what I know and have learned at a more affordable price and accessible pace. For the first salon, I’ve prepared a list of writing lessons I take from Adrienne Rich’s 1984 speech “Notes Toward a Politics of Location” as a jump-off point for discussion. I hope you’ll join me.