Fictional Tony wields both his kitchen knife and pen with conceit until Chef delivers a final blow to his fragile ego:

With no lag time at all, my brain failed to see the difference between scripted dialogue on a movie set and fictional Chef telling me, real Mehreen Karim, that my haphazard splashes in writing, cooking, and TV do not amount to a career. I simultaneously cringed and exhaled with relief, as if I had been starved and hunting for a note as scathing as this.

A slurry of visuals reeled through my mind like a speedy stop-motion, and the images were of the infinite number of “creators” who verily fall into the “nothing” category. No longer a fraction of the masses, but a mass itself, they are people whose incomes and egos feed off their gullible audiences: you and I. We scroll through, engage with, and reward online performances where the performers themselves shamelessly beg us (with AI-generated captions, no less) to deem them and their “passions” authentic. But passion is not always visible; it’s rarely self-proclaiming; and it feels painful to curate into an Instagram carousel. Engagement-seekers cosplay as writers, chefs, and whatever other type of artist they want to be perceived as, while, unfortunately, they are nothing—more precisely, none of the what their Instagram bio claims to be. But they are glad you’re not interested in learning the difference.

I am, for better or for worse, obsessively concerned with truths, to a paralyzing degree that prevents me from expressing my own. When I began writing for media or my personal Substack, I waded freely through the realms of what is personal and what is public, granting friends and strangers alike a blueprint of who I am and why I am. At some point I retreated from my hand-drawn map of myself. I can’t stand to discover the empty rooms and the stairwells with no railings, from which I will surely fall. The trepidation keeps me up at night, trembling and aware of what all is lost, while the desire to repair the damage keeps me posting selfies and photos of dinner online. Carousels and captions have no business sharing the whole truth; what a steal. We dance the parasocial dance.

When I do bring pen to paper, a predominant truth—the big bad truth—reels my tongue back into my mouth. This truth is the urn from which I create, and labeling it “too personal” only suffocates my desire to make anything new, true, or real. I write and create from an overflow of experienced love. And the deepest love I experience these days is grief.

“To die is to be human. And to be human is to be mentionable.

Everything mentionable is manageable.”

-Mr. Rogers

My mother is not well, and she is not getting better. Instead of coming to terms with, or at the very least, dignifying the existence of her pain with my sadness, I have grown angry. Like scared children do, I lie to myself and to everyone who deeply cares to know, “Is she okay?” and “Are you okay?”

No, she’s not. Now what? And no, I’m not. But yes, I am, because I slather on apathy on the walls like I always have. It’s airtight, and the sad and the mad are nowhere to be found.

My grief only gets a chance to exhale around my small son. He helps me search for myself. Every day, I scrub my hands ruthlessly in between the messes we make and watch the skin on my fingers wrinkle and wear. They feel more and more like my mom’s. My hands finally do what my mom’s hands did for me, and what they still do, despite her illness. She spends afternoons using her fingers to file through soil, thorns, wet dishes, flour, ground spices, and now and then, her gray hair. I no longer reach for waterproof kitchen gloves, because every time I begrudgingly rinse crumbs off my fingers or remove the scent of garlic from under my nails, the sensory inconvenience reminds me of every moment my mom must have spent scrubbing her hands for me and my joy.

A split second of mothering my son unlocks the world in which my mom was able to mother me. I bask in it, blindfold myself with it, and tiptoe away from the gaping hole on the ground beneath me. A few days ago, the blindfold was unceremoniously ripped off by none other than Mister Rogers.

In the 2018 film, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor,” Mr. Rogers disassembles a cynical journalist’s fortress of agony and grief. Without spoiling the film’s magic and pain, which I selfishly want you, reader, to experience for yourself, direct quotes from Mr. Rogers identified, addressed, and nurtured my emotional/creative paralysis in five sentences or less. I clutched my forehead under the damp mop of my bangs and welcomed a flood of tears that came and never left my eyes until the screen went black.

Tom Hanks’ kind gaze is intentional. It shoots daggers through whatever camera this movie was shot with. The daggers land on a young version of me—the four-year-old who watched Mr. Rogers at a scheduled time weekday every afternoon. I wish I could have stayed there, in her big, open, and honest world. Instead, I looked at my thirty-one-year-old self with her innocent eyes, and couldn’t make out who it was with this much fear smeared across my face and anger bleeding from my ears.

Mr. Rogers sings, “What do you do with the mad that you feel?”

I do nothing, Mr. Rogers. I did nothing, and as a result, nearly emptied myself of the love I was gifted, so long as I can keep this profound and unkempt fear at bay.

Mr. Rogers said, “Everything mentionable is manageable.”

This chickenscratch journal entry, tearful shout into the wind, is my mentioning. I am scared; I will continue to be scared. But after too many years, I am less angry and can see that I have so much more to make.

Here’s to more of whatever this is.

-Reenie

TICKETS

See you soon.

<3

-Reenie

My favorite Italian restaurant, Daphne’s, so kindly invited me to their kitchen this summer. And I couldn’t resist. This dinner is my ode to summer holiday and sea salt breezes. If you can’t make it to the pebbly coasts of southern Spain for dinner, I hope you can make it to Brooklyn instead.

While the sun lingers in the sky on the longest day of the year, I invite you to eat with me. Dip warm focaccia into creamy shrimp butter. Admire green chutney granita as it gently dresses a fresh scallop and mango tartare. In the dim-lit glow of Daphne’s romantic dining room, all you can taste is summer’s casual decadence and perhaps a lick of the stale sweat you’re wearing from a busy New York Monday—which now might as well have been a seaside Saturday.

TICKETS

Thank you for inspiring me to keep going. See you on solstice.

Rainbow Potato Chaat

Do not just throw chickpeas straight from the can into your chaat! Find out how to perfect your chaat with this hack.

Hot Honey Za’atar Glazed Salmon

Tender salmon and a simple but elegant sauce.

One-Bowl Chocolate Chip Cookie

NOT for sharing.

Crispy Brussels Sprouts Pakora

This isn’t some health hack, just a textural masterpiece with shreddy Brussels sprouts that create the most jagged-edged pakoras.

Date and Pear Focaccia

If you’ve never made bread before, now is your time to shine. The dates get all crisp and gooey against the caramelized pears.

Dishoom’s Chicken Ruby

Adapted from the iconic restaurant’s signature dish, my guide helps home cooks master this recipe in their lil’ kitchens.

Smoky Eggplant and Tomato Pasta

A silent crowd-pleaser that no one expects! A savory masterpiece.

Oven-charred Chicken Skewers

Life hack: broil chicken for the most flavor in the least amount of time.

Creamy Chickpea Salad

Inspired by Lebanese fatteh, this recipe is always in my back pocket for a stress-free dinner.

Malaysian Shrimp Fritters (Cucur Udang)

My Pakistani Father-in-law prefers this over pakoras. My PAKISTANI Father-inlaw!!

Ramadan Mubarak, my loves.

I laugh when people advertise their soup recipes with notes about how cold it is outside. Like they’re convincing you that sub-zero temperatures enforce an invisible ban on any meals other than hot liquids. We’re a gullible bunch, so while we convince ourselves that only soups will do, here’s a recipe that was born out of my very empty fridge. Just know you will still survive the cold even if you have a burger for dinner.

Ingredients

• 4 quarts low-sodium chicken stock

• 3 Tbsp EV olive oil

• 6 garlic cloves, peeled

• 1 cup fried onions or shallots, store-bought

• 1/2 Tbsp kosher salt

• 2 Calabrian chilies in oil OR 1 tsp red chili flakes

• 1 lemon, juiced and zested

• 1 can of white beans or cannellini

• 4 to 5 cups baby spinach

• 1 bunch fresh dill

• 2 oz pasta (macaroni, shells, orchiette)

• parmesan cheese, grated

Instructions

Set a large pot over medium-low heat. Add the olive oil to warm in the pot while you prep your garlic. Place the flat side of a large knife over each clove of garlic at a time, and forcefully press the flat of the knife with your free hand.

Add the crushed garlic cloves, fried onions, and chilies to the olive oil and stir until the garlic is lightly golden brown, 3-5 minutes.

Add the chicken stock and 1/2 Tbsp of kosher salt. Cover the pot with the lid and let it simmer for 15 minutes on medium-high heat. In this time, zest one lemon and collect its juice separately. Strain the canned beans through a sieve, removing its canned liquid. Add the beans and lemon juice to the soup. Cover the pot and simmer for another 10 minutes. Roughly chop your spinach and dill.

Use tongs to remove any large pieces of garlic or chilies. Add the pasta, spinach, half of the dill, and 1 cup of water to the soup. Set the heat to high and cook for the amount of time required for your pasta. Taste for salt, add the lemon zest, and stir the soup off the heat. Serve into bowls with plentiful grated Parmesan and more fresh dill.

Recipe

Makes 2 servings.

Stuff you need: large skillet, large pot, vegetable peeler.

Ingredients

• 6 oz or 2 servings of spaghetti

• 1/4 cup olive oil

• 20 cloves peeled garlic

• 20 medium sized shrimp, thawed

• 1 whole lemon

• 1/2 tsp chili flakes

• 6 Tbsp unsalted, good quality butter

Prep

1. Thinly slice 10 cloves of garlic and place in a large skillet (off heat). Mince the remaining garlic and set aside.

2. Using a vegetable peeler, peel the lemon rind off into long strips. Slice the lemon peels into wispy thin, vertical strips. Bunch them together and finely chop into a fine mince. Set minced lemon peel aside. Juice the lemon and set lemon juice aside.

3. Set a large pot of water to boil. Heavily salt the water. This is for cooking the spaghetti.

Cook

1. Add the olive oil to the skillet of garlic and set the skillet over medium heat. Constantly stir the garlic around and tilt the skillet to allow the oil to pool around the garlic, preventing the slices from sticking to one and other. Have a small bowl ready to transfer the garlic chips once they are light golden brown. Use a slotted spoon to scoop the garlic out and strain excess oil back into the skillet.

2. Increase the heat to medium-high and add the shrimp. Use a spatula to quickly move the shrimp around in the garlic oil as they cook evenly to a light pink, for about 3 minutes. Remove the shrimp immediately into a separate small bowl. Transfer any excess shrimp liquids into the skillet.

3. Reduce the skillet of oil to low and add the minced garlic, minced lemon peel, chili flakes, and lemon juice. Slowly simmer the garlic for at least 15 minutes and use this time to cook your pasta to one minute under al dente in the separate pot of boiling water.

4. Strain the pasta into a colander over a measuring glass or medium bowl to catch pasta water. Add 1/2 cup of pasta water to the garlic skillet and increase the heat to high. Stir vigorously as the sauce reduces. Continue to add 1/2 cups of pasta water each time the sauce evaporates, until you’ve added 2 cups in total. Finally, add the butter and stir into the sauce, emulsifying it by constantly stirring.

5. Reduce the heat to low and add the cooked spaghetti into the sauce along with a small splash (1/4 cup) of pasta water. Add the shrimp back to the skillet, and toss together with the pasta until everything is fully coated in the sauce.

6. Plate pasta and sprinkle with the garlic chips before serving.

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What a sight to wake up on book launch day. I’d love to give something back to the folks who have supported me locally.

Pop-up Dinner and Cookbook Giveaway

There will be two separate winners! And each will win the following:

🌶 Complimentary dinner for you + a guest to the Southern x Thai pop-up feast in Brooklyn, NY.

🌶 Signed copies of my new book (for you and your guest)

Here’s how to enter:

1️⃣ Like this post.

2️⃣ Comment and tag who your +1 would be.

3️⃣ Share this post to your story and tag me (If both you and your guest share, they’ll count as multiple entries!)

🏁 Giveaway ends Friday May 16th at 12 PM EST — winner will be announced via my stories on Saturday morning.

Thank you for your continued love, support, and hunger. ;)

Tickets

Join us for a family-style dinner, where the joyful expression of Southern and Thai flavors + techniques find each other in unexpected harmony.

Behind every bespoke dish on this collaborative menu, Chef Ohm of Kru captures both the versatility and depth of plant-based flavors within Thai cuisine, evident in dishes like Massaman Pot Pie and sweet and sour Spiced Okra Fries. As foreshadowed in my cookbook, this dinner is an homage to the historical nature in which regional cuisines, such as Thai and Southern American homecooking, have and continue to evolve through centuries of cultural exchanges. The result? Effortlessly artful dishes that somehow manage to still taste something like home.

Tickets available now on Resy!

I am a chef, recipe developer, and as of May 13th, a published cookbook author and editor. Here’s what I’d like you to understand about this latest installment of my job.

…every published book you’ve ever read was probably thrown into multiple washer-dryer machine cycles of edits, re-writes, and pages of trashed words.

How did I start freelancing as a cookbook writer and editor?

I was 1.5 years into my editorial role at Bon Appètit by the summer of 2022 when I was selected to compete on Season 2 of Next Level Chef. While it would have been ideal to feel supported by my workplace to take temporary leave, it was not an option. And I ultimately quit what felt like the safest path to becoming the food writer I had originally planned to be. From this risk onward, I daydreamed of some idyllic freelancing world in which I could grow as a writer and recipe developer, but with more freedom to explore the ideas that didn’t make it through the bureaucracy of a corporate food magazine.

Before leaving for the set of Next Level Chef, I met and acquainted myself with a talented literary agent who is responsible for producing a majority of the cookbooks I own. We started plotting a game plan for creating a series of mini, approachable, plant-based cookbooks that non-vegan people like myself would find useful in making their home cooking easier when they don’t have meat around.

I returned from filming the show, and by October of 2022, I was working with a publisher and agent as the Series Editor for three plant-based cookbooks and the author of my own.

What is a “series editor?”

It’s the short-form way to indicate to others that I am the editor of the Make it Plant-Based! series. I was the bridge between the writers, publishers, and agent responsible for guiding the authors through their proposals, chapter drafts, manuscripts, and, most importantly, editing over thousands of pages along the way. There was no clear job description or definition until we formulated my contract and essentially crafted this role for my exact responsibilities:

• researching, selecting, and reaching out to three potential authors

  • writing author profiles and pitching authors to the literary agent and publisher

• working with each author to produce a compelling book proposal that includes:

  • personal narrative for why they are the best person to write their book, an ethos for the book’s organization, and a proposed table of contents complete with their proposed essays and recipes.

• learning how to be a cookbook editor from our publisher and practicing those lessons for 18 months of simultaneously learning each author’s vision for their book, while editing in line with extremely precise style guidelines.

• months and months of editing and writing thousands and thousands of pages of many, many words.

Wait, did I edit my own book?

No! Thank God. A critical element in my operations as a series editor was the help of our publisher’s best editor, who edited every step of my book-writing process. With guidance from the literary agent, I wrote and organized my own proposal, drafts, and manuscripts. Every step of my work was the test subject for our publisher’s feedback, so they could take their sharpest microscope to my writing. This process both perfected my work, but also demonstrated the caliber of editing they expected from me as I edit the three other books in the series.

What did I learn from editing three cookbooks for the first time while writing my own?

First, I witnessed valuable expertise lie within the minds of experienced home cooks and writers. Each author of the Make it Plant-Based! series worked full time but spent every ounce of their free time thinking about, making, and creating incredibly smart recipes before I ever approached them to author these books. That’s how I knew they were right for the job.

I also learned that writing is deeply personal, and every published book you’ve ever read was probably thrown into heavy-duty, laundry-like machine cycles of edits, re-writes, and countless pages of precious words thrown away like fuzzies in a lint trap before the next tumble dry. It isn’t easy to translate the intricacies of your life stories to written word, all for a stranger to distort your work into an unfamiliar shape. But, an editor’s job is to acquaint the writer with new, uncharted possibilities that accurately express what they mean, just cleaned up with a rigorous red pen from the publisher’s style guide.

The outcome is a work of art that coalesces cooking techniques, recipes, and the textures of so many different lifetimes into one cohesive series of books.

This is the start of a series where I introduce you to each of the authors of the Make it Plant-Based! cookbook series.

Join me on launch day at Farm to People, where we’ll taste a few recipes from the book before getting lost in conversation on all things food writing, recipe making, and all that went into this very cookbook and series. I can’t wait to meet you, sign your book, and celebrate.

Buy Tickets on Resy

If you haven’t pre-ordered your book yet, you can purchase a ticket that will include a book you’ll pick up (and get autographed) at the event itself!

This event is part of Farm to People’s Know Your Food Podcast series, a live-recorded podcast featuring conversations with farmers, chefs, journalists, and other voices shaping our food system—hosted at the Farm to People Kitchen & Bar in Brooklyn.

Consider this event and conversation the next installment of my “How I built the career I never asked for” newsletter series. Bring your questions and curiosities.

See you soon!

That day, February 25th, is now approaching fast. You can reserve a table now!

Make a Reservation

I’ve been joining the team at Rolo’s for a few shifts while they show me the ropes of their incredible kitchen, where a majority of the dishes come to life in a 900F wood-fired oven or an open-fire and coal grill.

As usual, I’m inspired by my favorite home-cooked Bangladeshi dishes and how their flavors bend when translated to a bistro-style dinner. I hickory-smoked eggplant bharta and blended Desi fried shallots into a deeply savory butter (to go on my Rolo’s famous wood-fired polenta bread)! I can’t wait for you to try these and more.

A few notes on the pop-up:

• Menu is a-la-carte, meaning you choose what you want to order.

• Some of Rolo’s staple dishes will still be available for those of you who have never been!

• To make production as easy as possible, the meats are sourced from Rolo’s trusted, high quality farms and vendors. However, this menu has plenty of veg-based dishes to choose from. My favorite dishes are the meatless ones, tbh.

• If you don’t get a reservation, don’t worry, walk-in space will be for you on the night of.

• If you make a reservation and cannot make it, please do not wait to cancel it so others can join. We want as many people as possible to enjoy this event.

Can’t wait to cook for you. <3

Feel free to make parts of this cake ahead of time to save yourself any baking stress. Make the pudding filling or cakes 2 days ahead of whenever you want to assemble and serve the final cake. Pudding on Wednesday. Bake cakes on Thursday. And have a Happy Valentine’s Day on Friday.

Tip: You can make this a tall layer cake using two 6-inch cake pans or a single layer cake using one 9-inch cake pan. Adjust assembly instructions accordingly.

Serves 10-12

Cake

• 2 large eggs

• 1 cup (200g) packed dark or light brown sugar

• ½ cup (100g) granulated sugar

• ¾ cup (150g) canola or vegetable oil

• ¾ cup (180g) buttermilk

• ½ Tbsp vanilla

• 1 tsp baking soda

• 1 tsp baking powder

• 1 ½ cup (180 g) all purpose flour

• ¾ cup (60g) cocoa powder

• ½ tsp kosher salt

• ½ cup (120g) hot water

• 1 Tbsp instant espresso powder

Pudding Filling

• ½ cup brown sugar

• ¼ cup corn starch

• ¼ cup cocoa powder

• 2 Tbsp instant espresso powder

• ½ tsp kosher salt

• 5 cardamom pods

• 4 large egg yolks

• 2 cups whole or skim milk

• 2 Tbsp unsalted butter

• 4 oz semisweet chocolate, chopped

Chocolate Ganache Topping

• 8 oz semisweet chocolate, chopped

• 1 cup heavy cream

• 2 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted

Method

Cake

1. Preheat the oven to 350 F. Line and grease two 6 inch cake pans with parchment paper rounds and butter. Set aside.

2. Whisk the eggs, brown sugar, and granulated sugar in a large mixing bowl until sugar has begun to dissolve and the mixture looks glossy and pale yellow, about 2 minutes. Add the oil, buttermilk, and vanilla and stir again until combined.

3. Sift in the baking soda, baking powder, flour, cocoa powder, and salt. Gently whisk the dry ingredients into the wet.

4. In a mug or heat proof measuring glass, mix the hot water and instant espresso powder and add it to the batter. Give the batter one final stir until the consistency is homogenous.

5. Equally divide batter into the prepared cake pans. Gently drop or tap the cake pans on the counter, allowing any excess air bubbles to pop. Place cakes in the oven and bake for 35-40 minutes, or 40-45 minutes if using one 9-inch pan, just make sure the cakes do not jiggle and spring back when poked. Let cool in the pan for 20 minutes and then gently invert cakes onto a wire cooling rack.

Cakes can be made 2 days in advance when wrapped tightly with plastic wrap and stored in the fridge. For more than 2 days, double wrap cakes and store in the freezer for up to 2 months.

Pudding Filling

1. In a medium sized saucepan, whisk the sugar, cornstarch, cocoa powder, instant espresso powder, and salt together until the sugar granules break up any lumps of cocoa powder and cornstarch. Add cardamom pods to the dry mix and set aside.

2. Separate egg yolks into a medium sized bowl. Add the milk and whisk until the egg yolks are completely broken down and cohesively mixed in with the milk.

3. Pour the milk mixture into the saucepan of dry ingredients and set the saucepan on medium heat. Immediately begin to whisk the mixture, making sure to scrape the bottom of the saucepan as you mix. Continue to whisk over medium heat until the pudding begins to thicken and produce bubbles in the center of the pudding, about 5-6 minutes. Once the whisk begins leaving visible traces in the pudding, remove the saucepan from the heat. The pudding should be rather gloopy, dropping in large globs from your whisk back into the pot.

4. Immediately after removing the pudding off the heat, add the butter, chopped chocolate, and vanilla extract, stirring to combine.

5. Transfer chocolate pudding into a large glass baking dish or bowl and cover with plastic wrap, making sure the plastic wrap is pressed onto the exposed surface of the pudding. This will prevent the pudding from forming a “skin” from air exposure. Before frosting the cake, store pudding in the fridge until completely thickened and cooled, about 3 hours and up to 48 hours.

Chocolate Ganache Topping and Assembly

1. Slice each cooled cake into 2 layers, creating a total of 4 cake layers. Feel free to snack on one of the layers and only use 3 layers for the final cake. Or use all four if you’re feeling an extra tall cake!

2. Using an offset spatula, spread the ⅓ of the chocolate pudding on the first layer of cake, leaving a ¼ inch margin around the perimeter to allow the pudding to spread when the next layer is stacked. Place the second cake layer on and repeat the step using another ⅓ of the chocolate pudding to spread. Place the third cake layer on top. Use the final ⅓ of pudding to spread around any gaps or cracks around the top and sides of the cake. Place assembled cake in the fridge for an hour to cool before finishing with glaze.

3. Make the glaze: Place chopped chocolate in a medium heatproof bowl. Simmer heavy cream in a small saucepan on medium heat until bubbles form and pop near the edges of the saucepan and steam rises from the cream. Pour cream over the chocolate and let it sit for 3 minutes. Whisk the glaze until chocolate is fully incorporated into the cream and no streaks remain. Continue whisking until the glaze has thickened and is shiny. It is ready when you raise the whisk and thick ribbons of glaze fall back into the bowl and slowly disappear. If they do not disappear at all, the glaze has thickened and cooled too much. If the ribbon is runny, it needs more whisking and cooling.

4. Remove the assembled cake from the fridge and set on a plate or wire rack on a surface you don’t mind getting messy. Slowly pour the glaze in a circular motion onto the top of the cake, ensuring an even pour down the sides of the cake. Pause and assess the momentum of the glaze and continue to pour in any uneven areas, or on the top center of the cake (this will push the glaze down further on the sides of the cake). Decorate cake with dainty raspberries, strawberries, or cherries and store in the fridge to further set the glaze.

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Everything you know and love about my recipes, writing, and culinary curiosities, all in one place.

Pre-Order Now

A decadent chocolate cream pie is more than possible, and actually easier to perfect.

Make the world’s fluffiest pancakes—laced in cardamom coconut oil—when you forget to stock up on eggs or buttermilk.

Keep storebought puff pastry handy (yes, that’s plant-based) for a world of pies.

From one non-vegan to another, eating and cooking plant-based foods isn’t just a trend or a health fad, it’s a home cooking cheat code that not enough cooks are embracing to improve their day-to-day cooking.

My Southern cookbook is one of four from a new series, Make it Plant-based. As Series Editor, I had the privilege of working on these beautiful books and recipes inspired by Filipino, Indian, and Mexican cooking.

Check out the entire series!

Dear reader,

The following newsletter admits my guilty pleasure of a secret: I actually do pop-ups just to make you listen to my music. And yes, my playlist for Monday Suppers is available below. Now let’s unpack!

In a recently viral Modern Love podcast bylined “Andrew Garfield Wants You to Break Your Heart Open”, we see Andrew shaken by the grip of love and art. After beginning to read an excerpt of an essay, listeners can hear the weight of his tears and sighs grow heavier with every word he attempts to recite. Eventually pausing the recitation, he collects himself and poises his very reaction as an example of why art, whether it be written, sung, or visualized, is worth paying attention to. After being asked why this passage evoked such a response, Garfield retraces the trajectory of his cries from the depths of his grief, and conjures a wise lesson from it all:

“This is why art is so important. It can get us to places that we can’t get to any other way.”

Andrew, and the countless romantics from centuries past, are all correct. We need art to move throughout our emotional bodies, and ultimately, to survive them. From the lonely age of eight and onwards, I would shut the lights, obstruct my face with a pillow or blanket, and select songs to shuttle myself to a world of fantastical love and life stories that I, at the time, felt I may never live out in reality. I wouldn’t have had the exact words to identify music as a vehicle for emotional travel when I first employed indie-pop songs or anime OSTs to lift me off into uncharted, surrealist territories. But I religiously wrote mental scripts for each emotional pilgrimage I yearned to one day feel in my bones and branded each song with the heart-changing moment it could be the soundtrack of.

Twenty-something years later, I now have the audience (You) and the opportunity (Pop-ups) to infect a room with sounds and lyrics, that ultimately possess you with a momentary trance of escapism too! Us, escaping, together. <3

When I made my rounds through the dining rooms of Huda, watching couples sip and swap their mocktails and girls take turns portraiting one another against their velvet chairs, I heard the songs from my past chime around the restaurant chatter. Success. Even if you didn’t pause to recognize the music, I have faith that a string arrangement or soft chorus from any one song was gently seared into your memory of a dinner where you are enamored by how pretty life can be.

For the playlist behind Monday Suppers, I dusted off classic tunes from the first mix CDs my siblings left in my hand-me-down Honda Civic and perused the songs I’ve cried to ahead of ending serious relationships. Each song on this playlist has, at one point in my life, succeeded in making me feel desired, aglow, or in a delicate, shimmering sorrow.

The Playlist

The very first song on the playlist accomplishes all three criteria at once, and colors Monday Suppers with every shade of romantic I wanted you to taste and feel. The lyrics of After Hours by the Velvet Underground describe elements of a rather perfect evening, and perhaps, the singer’s ability to experience that evening from the solitude of being excluded from said evening, in her own room, in her own world:

If you close the door, the night could last forever
Leave the sunshine out and say hello to never

All the people are dancing, and they're having such fun
I wish it could happen to me
But if you close the door
I'd never have to see the day again.

Like the lyricist, I often relished in daydreams of the bright, love-lit world that existed beyond my own dim, childhood bedroom. However bleak this imagery sounds, I want to assure you that I was okay. I don’t wish I could go back and tell myself about how magical life becomes one day. I don’t think my younger self needed that assurance, because, the miracles I dreamt of kept me company long into the life I adore today. God forbid my younger self ever lost sight of the power of the art that kept her dark room alight, because then, she may never have yearned as deeply, or worked as hard, for the vivid life she lives today. :’)

This is a $85 per person prix-fixe meal. All patrons will be charged at the restaurant after their meal.

Reservations for October 21st

Reservations for October 28th

All served food will be halal. A specialty mocktail menu in collaboration with Kin Euphorics will also be available to accompany your meal. In order to run this event as smoothly as possible, we unfortunately will not be offering menu substitutions or alterations.

Each dish delicately pays homage to fall bounty, exercised in a melange of Lebanese, Indian, Japanese, and Bangladeshi flavors and techniques. We hope this menu settles your senses into a mode of rest, warmth, and pleasure.

Please note there is a $50 per person cancellation fee for no-shows or cancellations less than 24 hours from the date of the event. Every ticket sale matters to our business model and it is not okay to secure a reservation and later decide whether you will go—that’s so lame!

I can’t wait to greet you and feed you.

Last Thursday, I had an hour to make a fiber + protein-dense dinner and pulled off a really good chili by taste. Lucky for you, I measured all that I tasted. Here’s the recipe.

Tex-Mex Chili

Stuff you need: large pot or Dutch oven with a lid. Large mesh strainer.

Ingredients

• 3 tablespoons olive oil

• 1 large onion

• 1 head of garlic, grated OR 2 tablespoons of garlic paste

• 1 lb ground beef, chicken, or turkey

• 2 tablespoons tomato paste

• 1 chipotle pepper in adobo sauce + 1 tablespoon of sauce from the can

• 1½ tablespoon kosher salt

• 1 tablespoon granulated sugar

• 1 tablespoon ground cumin

• 1 tablespoon dried oregano

• 1 tablespoon ground coriander

• 1 teaspoon smoked paprika

• 1 (28 oz) can of crushed San Marzano tomatoes

• 4 cups chicken stock or 1 chicken bouillon cube

• 1 (15 oz) can kidney beans

• 1 (15 oz) can white beans

Instructions

1. Set your large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the olive oil to the pot and roughly dice the onion while the oil heats up. Add the diced onion to the pot and stir with a wooden spoon or sturdy spatula for 5 minutes or until the onions are translucent. Add the garlic and stir again for another 3 minutes.

2. Add the ground meat of your choice, the tomato paste, and the adobo pepper + sauce to the pot and increase the heat to medium-high. Stir everything together for 5 minutes to brown the meat evenly.

3. Press the meat into the base of the pan and let it brown even more while you measure your seasonings. Measure the salt, sugar, cumin, oregano, coriander, and paprika into a small bowl. Stir the meat again and add the measured seasonings. If the meat is dry and/or burning, add a splash of water to the pot.

4. Stir everything together. Add the full can of crushed tomatoes, but make sure to save the can. Use the spatula to scrape the browned bits off the bottom of the pot. If using chicken stock, measure it by pouring it into the empty tomato can and then add it to the pot. If using water, measure it with the empty tomato can, but, also add one bouillon cube to the pot right after.

5. Empty and strain the canned beans into a mesh strainer and rinse under running water. Add the rinsed beans to the pot, stir the chili, and cover with the lid, leaving a small gap for steam to escape. Simmer the chili for an hour, making sure to stir it every 20 minutes. Taste for salt and spice after one hour. Add more salt, sugar, or extra chili flakes, if you like.

6. Ladle into bowls and serve with sour cream, cheese, and Fritos.

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Saucy Eggplant Pasta

Hey! Please read the recipe before trying to throw these ingredients together. I wrote out detailed and specific chronological steps to ensure this recipe is easy and functional for your kitchen.

Stuff you need: large skillet with a lid and a large pot.

Ingredients

• 8 oz (4 servings) bucatini or spaghetti pasta 

• 3 tablespoons olive oil

• 2 Tbsp tomato paste

• 8 whole garlic cloves, peeled 

• 1 teaspoon crushed red chili flakes

• 1 medium globe eggplant, skinned (or 4 cups skinned and roughly chopped eggplant)

• 1 pint (2 cups) cherry tomatoes 

• 1 1/2 tablespoon capers

• 1 teaspoon kosher salt

• 4 tablespoons cold, unsalted butter

• Optional, for serving: fresh basil, a drizzle of good tasty olive oil

Instructions

1. Use a peeler or knife to remove the skin off the eggplant. Roughly the eggplant into 2-4 inch slices. (Size doesn’t matter here!)

2. Add the olive oil, tomato paste, garlic cloves, and chili flakes to a large skillet over medium heat. Stir with a wooden spoon or spatula until the garlic cloves turn golden brown and the tomato paste starts to deepen in color, about 5 minutes.

3. Add the chopped eggplant, tomatoes, capers, and salt to the skillet. Stir everything together, ensuring no tomato paste is sticking to the base of the skillet. Cover the skillet with a lid and let simmer on medium heat for 5 minutes.

4. Uncover the skillet and continue to simmer the sauce for at least 15-20 minutes, or longer enough for the eggplant to completely dissolve and the tomatoes begin to burst/soften. 

5. Start the pasta while the sauce simmers: In a separate, large pot, boil water and salt it with 2 tablespoons of salt. 

6. Cook your pasta for 1-2 minutes less than its package instructions call for. Once the pasta is done, use a glass measuring cup or medium bowl to collect at least 2 cups of pasta water. I like to set the vessel for pasta water in the sink and strain the pasta directly into the vessel to reserve the pasta water. Keep the pasta in its original (now dry) pot off the heat. 

7. Stir and taste the eggplant sauce. Note that the pasta water will add extra salt, so don’t season it at this point. The sauce should be thick and eggplant melted into a sauce, with some tomatoes still intact. 

8. Transfer the sauce, butter, and one cup of pasta water into the pot of strained pasta and set the pot over medium heat. Stir and toss the pasta with the sauce and butter. Taste the sauce once the butter is melted and the sauce has thickened enough to coat the back of your spatula. Add more pasta water if your sauce is too thick. Add more salt if necessary. 

9. Serve immediately with a drizzle of olive oil!

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“All hot girls have IBS,” society chants (on Twitter and IRL).

I don’t believe we all have the gut-crucifying syndrome that ruins some people’s day-to-days. But I have noticed that most of my friends and I are unashamedly gassy. Whether you fart around your partner is a cutesy, ice-breaking topic to gauge the “quirkiness” of potential friends. But in my crowd, we unapologetically take walks after our meals to facilitate digestion and prevent the pain of bubbles bursting in the tight confines of our intestines.

Now please bear with me as I construct—at the reputation-threatening risk of being corny—a metaphor between gastroenterology and the depths of love within you. Ugh.

Please hold space in your mind for this touching dialogue from an earnest father to his daughter:

The underlying message in the scene above is no different from most of my favorite works of art: to be loved is to be seen, and vice versa, to love is to pay deep, deep attention, and yearn to see back. But what’s left after we love fully, in a clear, unrequited direction? Fleabag’s father plows through the delulu romantics in the room with his conclusion: “That’s why you find it all so painful,” foreshadowing the gory realm that awaits beyond loving and being loved in return.

I don’t know why it hurt my feelings when he called it out. As someone who lives by a self-written bible of romanticism, I should know that operating heart-first is very much a thorned tightrope to walk. Making myself aware of the impermanence of every joyous moment is a tiresome way to tread through life, and it turns out I needed a TV show to tell me that. Once I accepted this fate, I grew more protective over where I make room for yearning, but simultaneously more generous: doting on my 3-year-old niece when she does not ask for nor expect it, directly requesting my mom to hug me longer, and writing this brain-fart newsletter to you now.

When you take a walk to massage your insides, directing the flow of pent-up acid or gas, you give your body permission to relieve itself. Ew! Whether that statement is about farts or expressions of adoration, it often disgusts me that we are forever vessels of both! It hurts so much. My heart begs my brain to recreate memories with surrealist detail, knowing that each attempt will simply dull the radiance of the original masterpiece. I hear songs that launch me into daydreams of my future that I still, deep down, don’t believe I don’t deserve to actualize. Where does the weight of it all anchor me? And is anyone under the same water near me? Now more than ever, I know they (you) are.

If knowing how to see and sense love is all so painful, I’ve decided that I can’t wait to learn more about where and why it hurts. Each attempt allows that air to escape, bubble up, and burst into our world—as it should.

The following lyrics would appear in the prologue of my aforementioned “bible of romanticism:”

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts, and figures
And instructions for dancing.
I love it when you read to me.
And you can read me anything.…

The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know.

Thank you for making space for this brain-fart. No one asked for it, but it is now yours.

My friend Sanaë is a vision of a woman and it only makes sense a cake so elegant came from the tastes of someone like her. She writes romance novels and cookbooks. Nora Ephron would have been infatuated with her eyes and chocolate cake recipe.

Gâteau au chocolat

Adapted from a recipe by Sanaë Lemoine, in Cake Zine’s Sexy Cake

For the cake:

• 150g or 10½ tablespoons salted butter

• 200g dark chocolate (62 to 64%) such as Guittard, coarsely chopped

• 150g granulated sugar

• 4 large eggs, separated, at room temperature

• 60g all-purpose flour

• Confectioners' sugar, for dusting (optional)

For the whipped cream:

• 1 cup (230g) heavy cream

• 1 teaspoon sugar

• Pinch of sea salt

For serving (optional):

• Fresh figs, cherries, or stonefruit

• Olive oil

• Flaky Maldon salt

1. Preheat the oven to 325°F. Butter a 9-inch cake pan and line with parchment.

2. In a small saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Remove from the heat and add the chocolate. Using a rubber spatula, stir until the chocolate is melted and completely smooth. Transfer to a heatproof bowl and set aside to cool for a few minutes.

3. In a large bowl, whisk together the sugar and egg yolks until pale. Add the chocolate-butter mixture and whisk until combined and smooth. Sift in the flour and whisk until just incorporated.

4. In a separate large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites into firm peaks. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold the egg whites into the chocolate mixture, one-third at a time, until incorporated. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan.

5. Bake the cake until a toothpick comes out with a few crumbs sticking to it, 30 to 35 minutes. Allow to cool completely in the cake pan, then transfer to a plate. Right before serving, dust with confectioners' sugar, if desired.

6. To make the whipped cream: Put a large bowl in the refrigerator for at least 10 minutes. Remove from the refrigerator, then add the cream, sugar, and salt.

   Whisk into soft peaks. You can use an electric mixer, but I like whisking by hand to better control the texture.

7. Top the cake with whipped cream, fruit, olive oil, and salt, if desired. Serve to your loved one.

Keep tightly wrapped for up to two days at room temperature.

Q: Advice for someone moving to New York for the first time

A: There’s nothing I can say to ease your nervous system as you step over puddles of piss on your way to catch a crowded, soon-to-be delayed train. What I can say is that each of those inconvenient steps will literally and figuratively exercise muscles* you didn’t know existed.

*Figurative muscles in question: Your intuition, directionality, and foresight. Let the hard shit happen to you so you can wake up and realize, “Wait, hard shit doesn’t kill me.” It really doesn’t! Job rejections destabilize you. Social-climbing city friends alienate you. And constant exposure to cutesy-branded capitalism sure will taunt you. You know the drill: stumble, assess the damage, and pay attention to who’s helping you get back up.

Q: What’s the one thing that keeps you here more than any other reason?

A: My community and my growth.

I found chosen family members who will, God willing, take care of me, even if life spits me out somewhere else—simply because we became adults together.

Pre-NYC Mehreen never intended to move here. It was never the plan in my young mind’s eye. But I thank my past self for making the uncomfortable, uncharted choices that led me to my first dinky bedroom on the Upper Eastside. Instead of complacently following the paths around me in Georgia, I carefully laid each stone for my steps forward. Some stones led me to untrustworthy people and severe anxieties. So I learned how to recalibrate my compass and build around, and often in harmony with the shitty people and things. That’s not always healthy (the latest calibration I’m finetuning) and I’m not sure when I’ll tire of this cycle.

Q: Differences in the Muslim community between NYC, DC, and Georgia?

A: Hahahaha.

Let’s start with a caveat: the people we all want to escape from our suburban towns can still be found in larger cities like NYC and DC. I wish moving to a “cool city” automatically funneled every judgemental loser through a Sailor Moon-esque transformation, churning out curious, passionate young adults. But the losers are everywhere—sometimes even costumed in wokeness!

Muslim or not, most people who left their hometowns for something “more” in NYC will find community with others who left their hometowns to do the same. I immediately recognized my lofty daydreams of bettering myself + the world (LOL @ young social activist Mehreen) within my Washington DC peers. Once I moved to New York, the personas shifted from socially aware to socially beware….HA! Haha. No, really. More on this sorry-ass joke in my last answer…

In New York, the Muslims + Desis range from people who grew up in neighboring states and quickly transitioned over to the city (not fully leaving their hometown baggage behind) to truly fresh faces, like my own. Some of my friends who’ve been in NYC for 10 years will claim the “scene” was even more insidiously clout-hungry pre-Covid. I believe them.

But this caveat makes up for a haphazard 10% of my general experience with other Muslims here. New York Muslims, above all else, are years ahead of (generalized) suburban Muslim subcultures. Thanks to the inherent progressivism that comes with breathing in NYC, most Muslims here don’t have a choice other than to mind their own business, live, and let live. I’m culture-shocked when I hear stories from friends and family in the metropolitan towns we left behind. Basic traits of decency still slip through the cracks while the movers and shakers (my role models) of these communities diligently educate and push their peers forward.

If and when I return to Georgia, it will be with a clear intention to surround myself with the smart, courageous people (Muslim and non-Muslim) who inspired me to move to NYC, to begin with.

Q: When have you felt limited as a result of living here?

A: I’m not certain that I’ve felt “limited” here, but I have felt disgusted! There’s a brilliant HBO show I watched in high school/college. It’s called Girls and was written by self-proclaimed narcissist, Lena Dunham, about four young narcissists in Brooklyn. And it is so realistic, I tell people it’s like Planet Earth, but capturing the sorry vapidness of young adults in New York City. I have met and regretfully befriended people so smart and SO talented, that it’s made them sick with competitiveness and textbook narcissism. I’ve watched too many people writhe when I find success or joy. At first, I was confused and let them limit my self-perception, but it was only a limitation on my life because I let it be. And if not for the guidance of my New Yorker friends who’ve been there and done that, then I might have let this pervasive lack of sincerity scar me for good.