2025 recap (...?)

Happy new year friends, and welcome to 2026! I don’t know about you but I’ve BEEN ready to leave 2025 behind. Aside from the political climate of our nation and the world, and the actual climate in NYC (an extremely cold winter after we basically skipped fall, completely robbed of cute blazer season, which is essential for morale), it seems like almost everyone I know had kind of a shitty year- one marred by loss, heartbreak and adversity in some fashion. I personally had possibly the worst year of my life. Perhaps, though I hope not, you can relate.

A lot of wonderful things also happened this year, things worth celebrating. NYC elected Zohran K. Mamdani in a landslide victory, our first true democratic socialist mayor since Fiorello LaGuardia- an immigrant, a millennial (!!), and a resident (and state assembly rep) of my very own neighborhood of Astoria, Queens. This victory is significant in so many ways, not the least of which is that it was completely grassroots; Mamdani’s campaign took zero corporate donations, meaning it was funded entirely by the people. A hallmark of pure and unadulterated democracy in action.

On a personal front, I really do have a lot to be thankful for. We did three dine well supper clubs this year, each one bigger and more well-received than the last- and we changed the format permanently, making it more of a collab/platform for queer chefs (which means less cooking for me, and thank god!!). I’m touched and honored by the enthusiasm around my little dinner party project, and the roster of amazing queer chefs wanting to get involved. Stay tuned for the next installment this winter <3

Also, in December I was given an amazing career opportunity: to come on as a regular contributor to Serious Eats. This means that my various food nerd rantings will no longer be confined to this substack, but will be available to a global audience- 7 million readers per month, to be exact, on a website with insane SEO. It’s an honest to god dream come true, so naturally, it is utterly terrifying! Check out my first piece that deals with my one true love, charcuterie boards, here :)

A few folks have remarked to me that I haven’t written a blog post in awhile. Truth be told, this here is a post I tried multiple times to write between late July and now, but it just wasn’t gonna happen- I was foolish to think it was. I experienced so much loss and hardship in 2025 that by December, I was just barely limping across the finish line. And every time I sat down to write, I just felt like I had nothing to give.

I lost three friends this year- all of them my age, all of them suddenly- and I currently have a close and deeply beloved family member on hospice. While grieving alone in the Hamptons this summer, the transmission on my car blew; I had to shop for a used car, on Long Island, while working my normal schedule and completely overwhelmed with grief (btw if you can do this, you can do ANYTHING). I also discovered there was invisible mold in the ceiling of my Astoria apartment, and that was the reason I’d been getting sick so often…..! The last few months have been a lesson in writing passive and directly aggressive emails, corporate insurance policies, lawyers, and now an impending move in order to preserve my health, something I don’t particularly want and definitely didn’t plan for. As a wise person once said, it do be that way sometimes.

The biggest loss, however, was that of my sweet senior cat, Dinah. Some of you may know her from instagram, where her very photogenic beauty and quirky (bitchy) personality earned her much notoriety. As someone who lives alone and is unpartnered, she’s been my one constant companion for the last 6 years- just me and Di against the world. In July, she passed in my arms with the help of a mobile vet after a short but tough illness. The pain of losing a beloved animal, or a “familiar” as one friend put it, can be even more difficult to navigate than that of a person. The relationship is different, very intimate, and the void they leave behind is uniquely deep and excruciating. Years ago Fiona Apple wrote a deeply beautiful and meaningful open letter about her decision to cancel a tour to take care of her senior dog, Janet, at the end of her life. I’m leaving it here with a trigger warning :( if anyone would like to read it.

They say grief is the price of love, but deep grief can feel like a debilitating illness. The pain becomes all-consuming, almost physical, completely incapacitating. I lost weight and didn’t sleep. I was a needy wreck to my very understanding friends and family, all of them hundreds and even thousands of miles away from the Hamptons. I regularly cried in public, much to the discomfort of multiple grocery store clerks- and farmstand employees, and gas station attendants…..and one very sweet woman working at the butcher shop, who was totally bewildered when I burst into tears after she gave me a few free sausages.

As my dear friend Tara put it, grief is nature’s diet pills. Feeding myself became a total chore, a bitter medicine that I knew I needed but hated taking. It felt as if I was so full of sadness that there was no room for anything else- food turned to ash in my mouth, it repulsed me and even made me gag. My amazing friends started texting me daily reminding me to eat something before work. Motivated by their encouragement and the need to keep functioning not completely lose it, I made eating my second job.

This is an ode to the foods that sustained me this during this dark and miserable summer, the foods that kept me treading water instead of drowning. This is a testament to the fact that all foods- yup, even the processed ones, the “unhealthy” ones with tons of sugar and carbs- provide energy for the body. All foods are acceptable, legitimate, life-giving. In the most true and basic sense, all food is good food.

The smoothie

The day the vet came to the house, I’d been up with Di since 5am. Once it became clear that it was time, I knew I was going to need something to sustain me and keep me from losing my ever-loving mind even more than I already had. I made myself the smoothie I’d been having for the last few weeks and although it took me all day to drink it, it was the only thing between me and a total breakdown, and it was enough.

It’s loosely based on a smoothie I used to have at Cafe Gratitude when it was still in the Bay Area- dates, vanilla, coconut milk, almond/peanut butter, banana. I added blueberries when they appeared at the farmstands, plumper and juicier than any you could buy in a grocery store, and a touch of cinnamon. I’d write a recipe but I honestly have no idea what the quantities are and they changed every time- that said, I highly recommend recreating it using intuition and “vibes”.

The peanut m&ms

Full disclosure: after that smoothie I was physically unable to eat a single thing for days. Even keeping liquids down was a struggle. But after awhile I knew I needed to “break my fast” or I was going to start seriously spiraling downward; it was time to put some work in. I knew I needed something easy, simple, and enjoyable- something I’d finish. It ended up being a pack of peanut m&ms from a gas station, a proper dose of sugar and protein. I sat in my car and slowly but surely ate every single one.

I take issue with the sweeping demonization of sugar as “bad for you”. Not just because consumption of excess sugar is often painted as some kind of moral failing (when in actuality food choices are governed more by access and familiarity than willpower, and the fact that sugary foods are cheaper and more widely available than fresh foods, especially in food deserts). And not just because there are major problems with the glycemic index (including extreme individual variability, that people are usually combining foods in the form of a meal, and major scientific problems with its development). It’s because sugar is the quickest source of energy, and sometimes the body needs energy fast. Also…. it’s delicious and it brings us pleasure. And pleasure is good for you. So sugar absolutely has its place, and let’s appreciate it for what it is and what it gives us.

The melon

A farmstand cantaloupe was the first thing I was able to “prepare” for myself. By prepare, I mean cutting off the rind and slicing into pieces. A pretty low bar and a pretty inconsequential task, but it felt like I’d climbed Mount Everest. That first slice tasted so sweet and juicy, so heavenly, so life-affirming, it was truly the food of the gods in that moment.

The 3am bowl of malt-o-meal

My sleep habits became unpredictable and very strange, and I had no real hunger cues. Multiple times I’d be awake in the middle of the night, staring blankly into my fridge and cabinets, frustrated that I had to eat to live.

Malt-O-Meal, aka cream of wheat, became my saving grace. Microwaveable, requiring almost zero effort, super easy to consume and digest… it’s essentially baby food. Add a little milk and sugar and you have a warm, comforting bowl of very basic nourishment. Porridges exist in basically every cuisine across the globe- be it made of millet, oats, rice, sweet potato, corn, or farina/other varieties of wheat, they are the great unifying, life-sustaining comfort food.

The reuben

While looking at a used cars in some god-forsaken town on Long Island, I spotted a diner across the street from the dealership and wandered in like a spectral ghost exhausted from test-driving three overpriced Hondas. About 20 minutes later a meal appeared in front of me. It was a giant reuben on rye dripping with Russian dressing, plus fries, slaw, a giant pickle and a coke. It also came with a cup of Manhattan clam chowder. The fact that I’d asked the server for it and then she brought it to me felt like magic. This was the first square meal I’d eaten in weeks, and even though I wasn’t able to finish it all, I cannot describe how good it made me feel.

Chefs famously don’t tend to do a lot of cooking for themselves. Takeout and restaurant food is admittedly counts for a fair percentage of my diet. And a home-cooked meal, made for me by someone else, is a rare and truly delightful treat. The reuben was not home-cooked per se, but the pastrami and soup were made in house; beyond that, it was made by someone else, just for me. In that moment, it felt like an act of love. My own mom was 3,000 miles away, and with the gift of that reuben, I felt “taken care of” by the kind server and the likely harried stranger in the kitchen who had quickly but carefully assembled it for me. Feeling taken care of is life-affirming, and that day the reuben helped me heal just a little.

The passage of time doesn’t make grief go away, but it does soften it somewhat. Eating and sleeping are easier now. I’m accepting and even embracing the changes that will follow this difficult year, and the gratitude for the good things- of which there are many- is that much sweeter. To all who had a taxing 2025, I wish you healing and rest. And I’m wishing all of you nothing but love, laughter and great food in 2026 <3 <3