Food Court of the Heart

*Perfectly roasted marshmallows at my grandparents’*

There Are No Substitutions

Sherlock had a mind palace, but I have
a food court of the heart (better than any mall’s).
Beef stroganoff cooking on the old white stove
at my parents’ house, back before the clock stood still.
Cut-out Christmas cookies, slathered in frosting
dripping off the side, red hots for eyes.
Cereal and peeled bananas and goofy faces.
Homemade crescent rolls, soft as clouds, accompanied by
the sweet-bitter bite of Granny apples in Snicker salad.
Butter brickle ice cream melting against a cookie or two.
Spearmint gum in a Jeep, whiffs of farm and new car.
Chocolate milk from the vintage, glass-doored fridge
in Beggar’s Banquet and, from the place nearby,
mint-chocolate chip ice cream like Mom’s sweater,
dark triangles dancing along pale green, and of course
the sugar biscuits from Mustard’s—too dark inside to see much,
walls covered in business cards, counter too high for a kid
to be part of the decision-making. But at Dough-Biz the cookies
are as big as your face and you don’t have to share,
the choice is yours, but it’s probably the monster cookie.
Gather ‘round at Godfather’s for a taco pizza and a
sausage/black olive, or pop in Jack’s for babysitting night,
but make your own (pepperoni/black olive) for sleepovers.
Chocolate cake or German chocolate or lemon or red velvet
for birthdays, curlicues whipped into the frosting.
9x13 pans of brownies for fun (and some birthdays too).
Dad adds powdered sugar. He’ll also leave every bag or box
of Twizzlers out to age—licorice is at its finest air-dried (debatable).
An Oreo is best snuck from the package,
up a sleeve, though Mom always knew.
Hard candy sent to camp, Dots in a college care package,
ube lattes and macadamia nut honey wine in Hawai’i.
Homemade bread and croissants, delicious experiments.
Wedding s’mores.
Bagels/summer sausage/cheese on the Appalachian Trail—
this combo becomes known as “do not try this at home.”
Crackers on a pink China plate or in an unopened box
of restitution for Lucas’s former roommate.
Peach soft serve at Fuji-Q, natto and onion shavings tofu
and noodles with tiny fish starting back at you
on my Japanese host family’s dining table.
Buncha Crunch melting in my bra at Silver Theater,
Chinese takeout for late nights dorm-writing.
There’s much more besides.
I could spend all day dining
on memories alone—
a feast of flavors.

Evergreen Daydreams

and going a wee bit nuts about writing technique

The other morning Lucas and I walked beneath old trees branching liked curled fingers over a residential Vancouver street. Within the speckles of early sunlight, crows and a black cat went about their business. Autumn clung to the air, a reminder that this was sleeping weather, prompting a question—were we sure we wanted to be out of bed yet? But coffee beckoned. Our best option was to pick some up after a shattering slip of the glass dripper in our lodging.

As we neared Commercial Drive, we stopped for men hauling away 15-foot, skinny evergreens attached to temporary bases like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. The trees stood beneath a mural-covered wall and were a mystery, seemingly too tall to fit inside the buildings surrounding us, and yet they hadn’t been outside yesterday. There might be nothing sillier than wishing you could pack an entire (nearly 3x-as-tall-as-you) tree home as a souvenir, but the thought crossed my still half-asleep mind. We could stand it in the living room room next to our fireplace, but obviously we would have to carve a hole out of our bedroom floor upstairs for the top, and that would be fine with a little caution tape and well, wait a second, we’d never keep the cat off and, we already stopped doing real Christmas trees because she thinks pine needles are gourmet dining... there goes that.

In truth, coffee was not the only thing we were hunting for, though it was the caffeine that was clearly most needed. I’d seen so many photos of gooey, perfectly browned cinnamon rolls the day before, so many “must try” reviews, and these cinnamon rolls didn’t come pre-frosted (or iced—the coffee shop’s, or maybe Canada’s, preferred nomenclature), meaning my dairy-sensitive self could indulge, at least in half.

There was only one thing lacking, and I think Elspeth Hay, author of Feed Us with Trees, would agree. When we reached Grounds for Coffee, the sign in the glass case of cinnamony goodness declared: “No nuts need apply.” It’s true, a cinnamon roll doesn’t need nuts, but after reading Feed Us with Trees I started to think, “A few nuts would help avoid a potential sugar crash… what if we sprinkled some pecans on here… or we could give hazelnuts a go?”

I’ve never been anti-nut, but I wouldn’t say I went out of my way to eat them in a format that wasn’t peanut butter, besides occasional health-conscious efforts to snack on them instead of crackers. And that’s the “standard” nuts. I grew up surrounded by acorns and, like Hay, don’t remember thinking of them as potential food for myself. (Note: while they are edible, do not try to eat them in their original state due to the high tannins.)

Some of Feed Us with Trees wasn’t news—we’ve already been reading a fair amount about the serious problems of modern agriculture and how much is grown not to feed people directly, but for biofuels or to feed animals that will later be eaten. But I felt inspired and hopeful learning about how nuts can improve our agriculture and the efforts of people reworking nuts into our diet: “There did not need to be any conflict between ecological restoration and food production on his farm, he realized; the oak savanna that had once covered the land had been full of food! Not just food for wildlife, but human food.” (18)

Stylistically, I occasionally had trouble with the writing, as the author frequently tells us when she’s thinking about things, for example: “After our call, I sat and thought about this for a few minutes. When it comes to ecological succession and its implications for greenhouse gas emissions and soil health, I realized slowly, the difference between coppicing a nut tree and plowing up an oak savanna is…” (173)

One of the first things I flag in my own drafts (writing third-person close perspective) is the insertion of “[Character] thought _____.” Is it technically incorrect? Nah, but it generally leaves distance between the character and the reader and feels like filler. You can jump straight into the thought instead, for instance: “Best not to dawdle, or she’d find more of Leona’s admirers at her door” versus “Best not to dawdle, Sable thought, or she’d find more of Leona’s admirers at her door.” The first option allows you to more easily feel you are experiencing it with or as the character. It’s a cleaner, more confident way to get your point across—whether you’re asking your reader to slip into the mindset of a librarian with a popular sister or offering your research.

To be fair, Hay uses “I think” often because she’s framed this book as a journey of discovery, asking questions and tracking down the answers, but I’d still push to trim most uses. I would also like more information at the conclusion—how long would it take the average farmer to flip a monocrop field to a productive intermingled one (nut and fruit trees with other food/resource production in the same space) and what does that path look like? (Government incentives?) How could we turn this into a movement? (Admittedly, this is in part because I want someone to challenge George Monbiot’s damning numbers in Regenesis.)

Our arrival in Canada was delayed multiple times. We got up at 3:45 am, but our flight left Madison about an hour late due to weather and we missed our connecting flight. Instead of the anticipated hour layover in O’Hare, I spent the next 7 hours reminding myself I shouldn’t eat a cinnamon sugar pretzel despite and because of the tantalizing butter smells drifting over my gate E4 seat. Then it was another 1 to 2 hours on the tarmac, delayed again. Nearly 4 hours in the air followed. That’s all to say, I read Feed Us with Trees in practically one sitting, and as much as I didn’t jive with some of the writing style, I was legitimately hooked in the beginning and in the last half—which is really saying something given I was reading on an airplane or in an airport waiting area, where discomfort and distractions abound.

And happily, my perseverance resisting the evils of dairy self-sabotage with buttery pretzels was rewarded by the warm, pillowy but firm, cinnamon-encrusted spiral of roll that I sliced apart in make-it-last, ever-smaller bites to savor alongside a steaming oatmilk latte. While there were no nuts to be found with my cinnamon roll, the ice cream shop on the UBC campus, Rain or Shine, was more nut-friendly. There I indulged in a vegan chocolate sundae drizzled in cherry compote and candied hazelnuts. The toasted hazelnuts had crunch like the crackle and snap of a fall campfire, and I chased them around the swirls of melting chocolate ice cream and jammy cherry, sure to capture them all (those that I didn’t share with Lucas, anyway).

Are nuts a regular part of your diet? What’s your favorite?

What impacted you the most from Feed Us with Trees?

The Flavor of Words

Butter-Pies and Blackberries

Have you ever read a book that made you hungry, even if the food was made up? (Please tell me in the comments!) My first experience was as a kid reading about the butter-pies in Diana Wynne Jones’s A Tale of Time City. I was crushed to learn these creamy, hot-cold concoctions weren’t real, but when I came across crème brûlée in the real world I thought maybe this is it. Nope, sadly, though crème brûlée certainly has its merits. Decades later, butter-pies are the only thing I remember about A Tale of Time City and this childhood memory is the ridiculously high standard I measure any food writing against—I want to feel like I’m tasting it, even if I’ll never encounter it in person.

I didn’t quite get there with Bite by Bite: Nourishments & Jamborees by Aimee Nezhukumatathil, a series of essays that each connected with a particular food, but, for perspective, Diana Wynne Jones wrote an entire novel that tucked a singular food firmly in the pantry of my imagination, and these essays were quite short. Additionally, like in my poem, “There Are No Substitutions,” food writing can be so personal as to be journaling, and journaling doesn’t require extra written appeal to the senses, as those details are so firmly lodged in the writer’s mind that the label of “chocolate cake” or “beef stroganoff” is enough to take the writer back to that place. But without enough additional layers of smell, flavor, texture, appearance, and even sound, the reader walks a far less evocative path following the writer.

The essays of Bite by Bite collected varying themes, history, and personal tidbits, often interesting, even if some could have used further marination. The ones that landed for me will really stick, like the essay “Lumpia,” about a childhood slumber party, and my favorite piece of “Blackberry:”

“Children have few markers of time. My sons never wear watches, and neither have cell phones, but I love that they keep—as my youngest calls it—fruit time. May means strawberries, June is peaches, August equals watermelons, and September is persimmons.” (86)

How wonderful! By that keeping, apple time is upon us here in the Midwest, and hazelnut time as well, which brings me to our next venture…

Baking Magic

A Cake Delayed

Inspired by the books this month, I wanted to try out a hazelnut cake recipe, but I had to backburner that plot because I have a cough that would be much less kind to share than cake. Of course, I figured I could reveal my baking success or (most likely) failure here in the newsletter. See one notable failure: Gouda the Hut, our first attempt at hors d'oeuvres when we came to Madison. Like Bob the sourdough starter in A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking by T. Kingfisher, Gouda the Hut moved on its own, skating across the baking sheet while we were unaware. Or perhaps it was the copious amounts of butter and the not-level baking rack—we’ll never know. But we can tell you our guests never came back, and only invited us over in return because they “had to.”

A Wizard’s Guide is a YA fantasy novel and I didn’t expect to emotionally connect with a 14-year-old wizard as my adult self, rather than flashing back to what it was like to be that age, but that’s what happened. Certainly we can all relate to this: “I’d swear to myself that there was nothing I could do, that I was going to stop thinking and go to sleep now, and then ten minutes later my brain would be going again, jitter-flop, jitter-flop, like a three-legged frog on a griddle.” (126)

To avoid spoilers I won’t say anything more, but I recommend A Wizard’s Guide to young and old alike.

Speaking of flashing back to a different age, “Food I’ve Cooked for Those I’ve Loved” by Christina Hu took me right back to my college years. While I haven’t personally cooked the recipes, and, in those days, I mostly ate crackers and cheese when I wasn’t eating in the dining hall (or my Sunday night quesadilla from Panchero’s when the dining hall was closed), I could relate directly to many of the emotions, and the risograph-printed illustrations have the charm of old food advertisements and instant photos.

I don’t bake or cook much these days and I don’t crave the act of cooking, just eating tastier, healthy, homemade things. The kitchen has never been my happy place except when I have a good podcast going and I don’t feel like there are twenty other to-dos I’m supposed to accomplish too. But there is something magical about baking or cooking for others, as Kingfisher and Hu both convey, and more motivating than being able to share the hazelnut cake within this newsletter is being able to share it with my neighbors, so once this cough clears I’ll give it a shot.

What was your biggest kitchen disaster? Your favorite accomplishment?

October Books

Just a little spooky for Halloween with these books:

The Secret Life of a Cemetery: The Wild Nature and Enchanting Lore of Père-Lachaise
Benoît Gallot
This one is quite short and described on the jacket as “an insider’s account of the world’s most famous cemetery, a charming portrait of urban nature, and a rich exploration of how the living and the dead always coexist.”

Mort
Terry Pratchett
Death finds himself in need of an apprentice in this book full of humor. If you haven’t dipped your toe into Pratchett’s Discworld yet, fear not, you don’t need to read any others before Mort. Mort was my first Terry Pratchett book, recommended by Lucas, and I keep meaning to reread it.

Cursed Princess Club, Vol. 1
LambCat
I first started reading Cursed Princess Club as a webtoon on my phone and was hooked. If you need some bright colors, goofiness, and charm this Halloween, come read Cursed Princess Club with me.

Zine Scene
“Possum O, Possum: Drawings from the Backyard” by Emily Halbardier and “I Like Bats!” with multiple contributors; designed, edited, and published by Adelaide Blair

*Frogs upon a frog at UW Health on Odana*

September Scrapbook

It was a very busy September, so instead of a collection of hopeful things, here are a few favorite photos from this month (all but the last were taken by Lucas).

**“Expression of the Nocturnal”**

by Bob Baddeley at GLEAM in Olbrich Gardens
More info

**“Till Death Do Us Part”**

by Michael Young at GLEAM—it’s not “official” but a group of praying mantises is commonly referred to as a congregation
More info

**View from Ferry**

Between Vancouver and Victoria, British Columbia

**Sunny Spiderweb**

Along Galloping Goose Trail

Credits
All doodles and photos by Leigh Anne Gray or Lucas Gray, except that top photo was probably by one of Leigh’s family members.

The reviews are based on the following books and zines: the 2025 paperback edition of Feed Us with Trees: Nuts and the Future of Food by Elspeth Hay, published by New Society Publishers; the 2024 hardcover edition of Bite by Bite: Nourishments & Jamborees by Aimee Nezhukumatathil, published by HarperCollins Publishers; the 2020 edition of A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking by T. Kingfisher, published by Argyll Productions; the zine “Food I’ve Cooked For Those I Love” by Christina Hu.

Accoutrements
Felted Wool Acorns by StoneHouseCrafts | Chipmunk and Bat by SetApartCreation | Tiny Wooden Broom by Granville Island Broom Co.