Hello and welcome to "the new year”. The pressure to document everything at the year’s end is, frankly, overwhelming. A nice little workaround (for me) is to…simply send it at the top of the following year (?).
The tone: Should it be earnest and reflective? Cheeky and vague? Lots to consider. It was the busiest, most special year of my life, not without its personal crises and emotional catastrophes. I’m sure you know the feeling.
Here are a few high-level things that happened in 2025— I’ll try to be brief.
On January 16th, I had oysters at Cervo’s followed by dinner at Thai Diner. The next evening, at 6:43pm, my water broke and I went into labor a month early with my first baby. He was born three hours later around 9:30pm via emergency C-Section. I lost a lot of blood and needed to receive a transfusion. Every time I let my mind wander to “what if we hadn’t gotten to the hospital so quickly,” I start to cry a little and so I try not to let my mind wander there. While early, he was superlatively healthy, simply ready to be born. A year later, that’s still exactly his personality. Ready for everything, always on his own terms, brave, confident and supremely sure of himself. He is perfect and my greatest joy. His birth felt like the real start to my year, and I think every year from now on, my New Year starts on January 17th.
I had to finish the book I almost finished before I had the baby. It was mostly written, but because of the early arrival, I ended up doing more last-minute writing and heavy editing during this time than I had planned. It was extremely difficult. My brain was very cloudy, though I will say freakishly clear about every single thing I wanted to say. Every recipe, every ingredient, every opinion. I wrote slowly and intentionally. I edited decisively and ruthlessly, cutting sentences and paragraphs and entire pages. Anything that didn’t serve the book's higher purpose: making something classic, timeless and definitive— It had to be lean and potent. I blew several deadlines, disappointing myself and my editors. Then, I turned it in, making us all proud (I think). I did all of this while attempting to breastfeed a newborn, pumping, or crying.
After not having been properly drunk for over a year, I “overdid it” at a party featuring an open bar that served only Cosmos. Later that night, in the privacy of my own home, I threw up while pumping– a painful, dramatic, humiliating and humbling experience if there ever was one (don’t worry, I threw out the milk!!!). I have not had the same relationship to alcohol since, which is probably because I poisoned myself and the body keeps the score.
Fun party, though.
I turned 40 in Italy and it was beautiful and special and I’ll never forget it. Yes, AND: I would have enjoyed it more had I not been severely depressed. Did you know you could be depressed even in Italy? Seems unfair, but it’s true. It hadn’t occurred to me that I was depressed, I thought maybe it was normal to cry nonstop and lose enjoyment for all things for months on end. I was full of euphoria the first three or so months after having Charlie and thought “well thank god I didn’t experience any postpartum depression!” Our baby was healthy, slept through the night, ate well, had a generally lovely and joyful disposition. “Nothing was wrong.” But that’s not….how depression works, and my hormones ruled all, which had fluctuated so intensely and then seemed to sort of…leave my body entirely, along with every ounce of serotonin I had ever produced. I’m grateful for my doctor who explained what postpartum depression was, why she was certain I had it, why my therapeutic dose of 5mg Lexapro was not going to work, and what I could do about it moving forward (a combination of Zoloft, yoga and Sleepytime Tea— though I’m honestly not doing as much yoga as I should and the Sleepytime Tea is a placebo. I just love that little bear sm).
I cooked less than I ever had and felt guilty about it every day. I cooked mostly for survival and for health, and I cooked food for the baby (I made a lot of purees, roasted a lot of orange vegetables and rolled a lot of meatballs). I did find joy in that– in a way, it felt like an assignment. After two decades of pressuring myself to be creative non-stop, I liked being told what to do, even if half of what I made ended up on the floor (no offense to me). I didn’t have time to feel creative, and cooking with the sole goal of feeding my son without considering if it would be a good recipe to publish felt like an excuse not to feel bad about that. I’m happy to report I am cooking again. For me, for you, for pleasure (and also for him– still making a lot of meatballs).
Sometimes they become patties.
I went on a press tour followed by a book tour to celebrate and support Something from Nothing. SO much goes into the making of a book, and it is extremely gratifying to talk about the process to people who are curious to hear about it. In-person events on tour are especially fun. Getting to discuss every creative choice, editorial tangent, behind the scenes story on a nerdy, granular level while also giving you advice on dating and why you should be roasting your vegetables for longer than you think is utter bliss to me. These events scratch a particular itch– they’re something that can’t be easily replaced, copied or duplicated. To everyone who came to see me on the road at each event: A massive, massive thank you, I’m so glad you came.
Stay tuned for a newsletter about some places I visited on tour that I think you simply must go to.
Something from Nothing made several best of lists, bestseller lists and The New York Times bestsellers list, a list I “don’t care about making,” and would, of course, be devastated not to make. External validation is real and while I like to think I’m above it, I know I’m not!! Thank you to all the independent book sellers, people who bought the book, people who recommended the book and those who gifted the book. I love this book and I love you! If you’re still looking for copies, some bookstores that have signed copies and ship nationwide: Book Larder, Omnivore Books, Books are Magic.
Signing 800 copies in a garage
I found an excellent dermatologist/NP who did my Botox in a way that made my eyebrows arch perfectly– something I wasn't sure was real but now can confirm is possible. I also discovered laser facials. My skin and I are forever changed.
I launched a tomato sauce. It’s called A Very Good Tomato Sauce and, after selling out too many times to promote it properly (you can’t sell a sauce that nobody can buy!), you can finally purchase it here. I'm really proud of it and yes, I do think it's better than a lot of tomato sauces on the market– otherwise I wouldn't have bothered. Working for yourself is amazing and also lonely– Projects like this are an antidote to the latter. Working with other people who are good at their job makes me better at mine.
Actual review: “Honestly? Much better than I thought it would be.” (Okay!!)
I’m currently writing a very long something on the experience of launching a (small) CPG brand in the “launch-at-whole-foods with a multi-million dollar fundraising round” era because GOSH, do I have thoughts.
For the months of November and December, I opened a small outpost of my upstate corner store, First Bloom. For two short and sweet months, a little piece of upstate popped up in Manhattan. This was an experiment gone very, very well and I miss our little magical shop on Hester Street every day. I got so many messages telling me how delightful everyone who worked there was– exemplary customer service with sweet dispositions and helpful attitudes. How fabulous the food was– the best brothy beans and most delicious lentil soup they’ve ever had (Jane and co.!!). How wonderfully stocked it was– “a master class in personal curation.” God, put it all on my tombstone!
Note: Original First Bloom in Bloomville, NY is closed for a January reset, back open and ready to meet you February 4th. Come visit!
A dream!
For the first time in my life, I admitted I maybe, perhaps, almost certainly spread myself too thin. Cue This Woman’s Work. In my defense, everything felt urgent– primally so. There is so much to do in this life of ours.
Finally, for the first time in my life, I looked at all I did and I said to myself: You have done enough. And now, in this new year, we start again. I can’t wait. There is so much to do in this life of ours.
