Starting to Share the Next Set of Natural Laws

#13: “It’s all out of control!”

About 25 years ago my partner Paul started talking about the idea of Natural Laws of Business; laws that—like gravity—were simply true. All thriving businesses, he suggested, were living in harmony with those Natural Laws. About a decade later I took Paul’s concept and fleshed it out further in Part 1, Secret #1: “The Twelve Natural Laws of Business.” We’ve been teaching the Natural Laws regularly for over 15 years now. I’ve spoken about them from the stage thousands of times and we’ve used them internally to help guide our work over the years.

Unlike legal codes, Natural Laws are not reversible. They can be seen at work in organizations of all sizes and shapes—for profits, not for profits, in Indiana or India. They play out in basketball and in business. They honor human nature and they also give any of us who want to work in harmony with nature a good framework with which to help make our plans and decisions—both with humanity and on the planet at large. When we honor them, good things happen; when we violate them, we exhaust ourselves. As Paul Goodman wrote, “Those who draw on natural powers find it easy to be inventive,” while those who don’t, “live every minute of their lives without the power, joy, and freedom of nature.” The results we get when we are not working in harmony with them may sometimes seem like “success” in the short term, but only in the same way that over-extracting natural resources from the earth or plowing up large tracts of land to plant thousands of acres of commercial corn look like they’re “working well.” As Masanobu Fukuoka writes, “If we throw mother nature out the window, she comes back in the door with a pitchfork.”

Some of the Natural Laws—like #1 about visioning, #5 about giving great service to the staff, or #6 which talks about the importance of training—encourage us to take action. Others—like #9 about success meaning you get better problems, or #10 discussing how strengths lead to weaknesses—are less about initiating new projects and more about acceptance. By understanding that the latter are Natural Laws—i.e., they’re just true—we can stop fighting against nature and go with the flow. Which reminds me to share this lovely little quote from Fritjof Capra’s compelling book The Systems Way of Thinking to sum up beautifully how Natural Laws play out—while the principles are universal, the actual application would always be local. As Capra explains, “The water’s downward movement is determined by the law of gravity, but the irregular terrain with its rocks and crevices determines its actual pathway.”

For quite a while now, I’ve been realizing that there are additional Natural Laws of Business that I had not quite worked out back when I wrote the original essay. Many of you have heard me reference them, but this is the first time I’m putting any of them into print. I don’t know how they’re going to go over, but in the spirit of the anarchist belief that the means we use need to be congruent with the ends we want to achieve, it only makes sense that I push myself to put this particular Natural Law out in the world well before I “have it all figured out.” Ready?

Natural Law #13: Everything is out of control; all we have are varying degrees of influence.

While this has become clear to me over the years, most of the modern world tells us the opposite—“control” is a near constant drumbeat of business. Even folks who coach constructively on more mindful forms of self-management still regularly suggest we focus on the “things we can control” while (appropriately) “letting go” of what we can’t. While I suppose that’s better by half, it’s still missing the point. Here’s a bit of what I wrote in Part 2 about accepting that it’s all out of control:

Think about frequently used phrases like “span of control,” “cost controls,” and “quality control.” Management meetings are peppered with people saying things like, “We have to get that situation under control.” In bigger companies, they even have a job that’s called “the controller.” You’ve probably heard the word control used a hundred times in the last week alone. But the frequent use of the word only exacerbates the issue. Although it is hard to accept, the truth is it’s all out of control. I prove the point every time I teach leadership, simply by asking the class: “Who here has been in a situation where you knew you shouldn’t do something, but you went ahead and did it anyway? And then instantaneously regretted the action?” I wait fifteen seconds for almost everyone in the room to raise their hand, and the point is made. If we can’t even control ourselves, how much control could we possibly have over other people and outside events? In truth, all we have are varying degrees of influence over outcomes.

If we all admit that we can’t fully control ourselves, how then would we possibly control our purveyors, customers, or co-workers? What about the weather or the latest crisis on the other side of the planet? How about the price of wheat or the search for world peace? The last year has certainly made proving the point a bit easier. It’s all out of control; all we have are varying degrees of influence.

I’m not sure exactly when or where all this became clear to me. One contributing factor, I know, was finding Peter Senge’s now classic book, published in 1990, The Fifth Discipline. Its main focus is on encouraging leaders to create learning organizations, but there is a lot more in the book that significantly shifted some of my beliefs. As Dr. Senge said, “Through learning we re-create ourselves. Through learning we become able to do something we never were able to do. Through learning we reperceive the world and our relationship to it. Through learning we extend our capacity to create, to be part of the generative process of life.” And, in the spirit of Natural Law #13, Senge said, “You cannot force commitment, what you can do… You nudge a little here, inspire a little there, and provide a role model. Your primary influence is the environment you create.”

One of the many things in the book that caught my attention was a story in which Senge talked about roller skates. It’s a section with title that tells this whole story—“The Illusion Of ‘Being in Control’”:

Beyond money, beyond fame, what drives most executives of traditional organizations is power, the desire to be in control. Most would rather give up anything than control.

Imagine that you have two roller skates, attached to one another by a spring. You use the first roller skate to control the motion of the second. It’s a bit tricky, but doable. Now, add a third roller skate, attached with another spring—and, moreover, give that new spring a different “spring constant” (i.e., make it either easier or more difficult to extend than the first spring). Now, try to control the third roller skate by moving only the first. It’s much trickier. Keep adding roller skates, each attached by springs with different spring constants. It doesn’t take long to give up any hope of controlling the roller skate at the far end of the line.

When I read that paragraph it immediately resonated. I realized why I was having so much trouble getting things to happen as I’d seen them so clearly in my head. When I grew frustrated I started to just imagine trying to shift the fifth roller skate in Senge’s story and really, all I could do was smile. It didn’t fix the problem, but it did reduce my stress and helped me focus on new, more effective, ways to influence the outcomes.

The second influence on my thinking was internal. I’d grown up with these same commonly held beliefs about needing to control myself, that good managers should be able to control situations, and to be able to “control my emotions.” As the roller skate scenario shows, that concept is kind of crazy. It didn’t work for me at home, at the Deli, or anywhere else I went. Therapy helped. I began to learn to own my choices, and to understand that others were going to make theirs. That strange and wonderful and also stressful things would happen in the world that I couldn’t stop from happening became painfully, clearer and clearer to me. Part of that work on self-study led me to more and more books by people like Thich Nhat Han, Brené Brown, Sam Keen, John Bradshaw, and Ram Dass. It’s all, I was starting to understand, out of control. Instead of trying to clamp down harder to gain control, what I needed to do was figure out how to manage myself more meaningfully; to make peace with the world and myself as part of it.

It became clear to me that trying to control the uncontrollable inevitably leads to break down. While it can work for a while, it’s not sustainable. The belief that we can and should exert control, leads to authoritarianism. In the workplace it looks like “command and control,” closed meetings, a wide range of rules, and centrally mandated consequences. As Robert Greenleaf writes, “The prevalence of the lone chief places a burden on the whole society because it gives control, priority over leadership. It sets before the young an unwholesome struggle to get to the top.” On the land it looks like mono cropping and pesticides. In our heads, it appears as harsh self-criticism. Over time, authoritarianism provokes anger, antipathy and apathy. At the mild end of the spectrum, it leads to what Rollo May called “passivism;” in more extreme situations it leads eventually and inevitably, towards violence. It might be emotional, intellectual or physical; it might be directed at ourselves or at others. But it’s never good.

Making peace with the reality that it’s all out of control, that we have only varying degrees of influence, is a prerequisite for making peace with ourselves. And with others. Because, as the Dalai Lama said, “We can never obtain peace in the outer world until we make peace with ourselves.”

What would accepting this Natural Law mean in everyday life? A good place to start might be the way we speak. Poet Sandra Gustin writes:

I think how
language is fragile, how a breath
could leave a sentence and not return,

In the same way that letting go of the phrases “I have to,” “I should,” and “I can’t” helped me reclaim the internal freedom I had unwittingly surrendered, leaving behind the word “control” could be big. Since the way we speak is tied, inextricably, to the way we think, and the way we think is tied to what we do (see Secret #38 for more on this), then we would benefit greatly from shifting what we say. As Daniel Berrigan and Thich Nhat Hanh stress in The Raft Is Not the Shore, “The bridge of illusion must be destroyed before a real bridge can be constructed.” A new approach might look/sound something like:

Even writing these sentences out puts my mind at ease and leads me towards more mindful living. I encourage you to find options that feel, and sound, right for you. The intent is to do what Susan Sontag once said: “The ideal or the dream [is] to arrive at a language that heals as much as it separates.”

Accepting that all we have to work with are varying degrees of ever imperfect influence in our worlds leads us towards any number of positive outcomes. It’s rooted, appropriately, in humbleness. It can help us understand that we’re all interconnected, that life is precious, and that living mindfully in the present is really the most we can do. It leads us to notice the small things; and to pause—even for a second or six—in awe and appreciation for what is happening around us. Brené Brown says, “Vulnerability is the willingness to show up and be seen when you can’t control the outcome.” When we’re able to do that I believe we are then well positioned to move forward more positively towards the sort of loving and lovely organizational ecosystems I’ve been writing about and that we’ve described in our 2032 Vision. If we stay stuck in the old belief that we can and should have control, we will lose out on love. The two are wholly incompatible. As bell hooks writes, “Genuine love requires a recognition of the autonomy of ourselves and the other person.”

This morning I read a touching, inspiring note from a manager to his team. It was real, it was honest, and he made himself vulnerable. He talked about how—both for better and for worse—he had gotten to where he is today, and about what he was going to work on improving. It was awesome. The note included no commands. Only honesty, high hopes, humility, care, and connection. Twenty minutes after he sent it, a member of his team responded with an equally inspiring note of support. Both brought tears to my eyes. I don’t know how others to whom he sent it will respond. He—and they—will collectively continue to move forward, ever imperfectly, out of control, but with ever greater degrees of inspirational influence. By accepting the limited nature of our influence, by accepting that human beings and the planet will never really sustainably “follow orders,” by focusing instead on things like appreciative inquiry, visioning, living in harmony with the Natural Laws of Business, we have a chance, as James Hillman writes in Kinds of Power, to “try less for control and actually gain more power.”

As we shift our approach, accepting that “control” is only an illusion and that we can gently shift our efforts to creative and caring influence, we can access the beauty in ourselves, in each other, and in the world around us. While we don’t have control, we do have a lot to learn and much to say. And do. Positive influence, we know, can inspire. As John O’Donohue offers, “If you send out goodness from yourself, or if you share that which is happy or good within you, it will all come back to you multiplied ten thousand times. In the kingdom of love there is no competition; there is no possessiveness or control. The more love you give away, the more love you will have.”

Brinery Tempeh at Miss Kim

Come on by for this great vegetarian meal!

A couple weeks back I wrote about Sauerkraut Salad (I made it again the other evening—it’s delicious!). The superb naturally fermented kraut from The Brinery is one of things that made it so wonderful. This week, Ji Hye at Miss Kim is cooking up The Brinery’s Tempeh. If you don’t know tempeh well, it’s made from cooked and lightly fermented soybeans that are formed into a firm “cake.” Here’s what Ji Hye had to say:

David Klingenberger, Chief Fermentation Officer of The Brinery, and I have known each other quite some time now. He was getting The Brinery started while I was chasing the dream of opening a restaurant and running a food cart. He and I bonded over our shared love of all things fermented, especially kimchi.

When the Brinery started making tempeh, I was not keen on using it. I knew it was fermented soy cake from Indonesia, and that was about it. I was curious but the day to day hustle and bustle took me away from really playing with tempeh. When the pandemic hit a year ago, we paired down our menu to the favorites and kept on going. Creativity took a bit of a back seat to survival. When February 2021 rolled around and Ann Arbor Restaurant Week started again, I was ready to try new things. By now, I was also looking for another hearty vegetarian option. Soybeans and soy products were my father’s favorite, and I remembered him saying soybeans were the meat of the earth, and decided to give tempeh a try. I instinctively wanted to experiment with tempeh because of its slightly smoky flavor, and treat it like Korean barbecue.

I first marinated the tempeh in rice syrup and soy sauce, then gave it a hard sear on the grill. The aroma of aged protein in tempeh reminds me of dry-aged beef a lot, actually. We serve it in two ways—lightly battered and deep fried with dips on the side, or marinated in soy garlic bulgogi sauce, pan fried and served over bibimbob. Both are hearty and deeply satisfying in a mushroomy, meaty and nutty way. And I’m happy to use a great local product and support a fellow food entrepreneur.

I’m getting hungry just re-reading what Ji Hye wrote. Head over to Miss Kim to pick up an order or two today!

Miss Kim Bulgogi Burger at the Roadhouse

A creative and tasty intra-ZCoB connection

Taking Ji Hye’s creative Korean influence and moving a few miles to the west, we have this wonderful new Kimchi Bulgogi Burger on special at the Roadhouse. Sit down and dine in, order a couple for carry out, or grab a spot at one of the picnic tables out front in Roadhouse Park and enjoy the unexpectedly warm weather!

As you will likely already know I’m a big believer in connecting around food and culture. I wrote extensively about meaningful collaboration in Secret #39 in Part 3. It brings together diverse perspectives, skillets, and experiences—the outcomes are very often what come to be called creative breakthroughs. The key is that, as per the discussion above, creativity can be encouraged, but it can’t be controlled. As Peter Senge says, “Your primary influence is the environment you create.” With all that in mind, I’m happy to report on this compellingly delicious burger by Roadhouse sous chef Chris Chiapelli—created through a series of conversations with Ji Hye Kim. It’s both tasty, and timely, a culinary and cultural inspiration and a meaningful call to action in multiple ways. Chris shared a bit of the back story:

One our line cooks Drew had made some Kimchi. I was pretty impressed after tasting his final product so being the Sustainable Chef that I strive to be I thought of trying to use it with a new burger. I have a killer recipe for Bulgogi Marinade (soy sauce, salt, scallions, garlic, black pepper, sesame oil), and I also realized it was gonna need a few more components to it—like The Brinery Sriracha and Kewpie Mayonnaise. Our Cabot Cheddar was a go-to, as was our amazing Nueske’s applewood smoked bacon. We’ve started using the kimchi from The Brinery as well.

Then I reached out to Ji Hye and she suggested some ways to make the marinade better still. My wife had just bought these Asian Pears, so I juiced them and also added honey as per Ji Hye’s suggestion. Ji Hye inspired me to make this more than just about a burger, to honor the meaning behind it given the times we’re living in. When I went home to share the good news with my wife, she immediately talked about what’s been happening to the Asian American community in the last few months. She has a lot of friends whom she works with at the hospital here who are scared to even walk to their cars at night in the parking structures!! She was brought to tears telling me all their struggles. And that is when I finally realized that this is way bigger than us, and if there is anything that we can do to bring the situation to light to this then we must do it!

Aside from inspiring Chris to take his idea to the next level, Ji Hye also shared important background:

Bulgogi is one of the most popular and well-known Korean dishes. The oldest mention of it goes back to the 3rd century in a book called Sushingi, where it was documented that meat marinated in garlic chives and fermented soy paste was grilled over open fire by the clan of Mac in Goguryo Kingdom (modern day North Korea and Manchuria). While the following kingdom of Goryo was a Buddhist nation and mostly vegetarian, a documentation still survives of a grilled meat dish that was especially enjoyed on snowy nights. The first time you see a written recipe resembling bulgogi is in the 1800s, where beef marinated in soy sauce was grilled over fire.

A sort of minced beef patty version, tteokgalbi 떡갈비, came from the palace as a highly prized dish served to kings and queens. The extra effort and knife skill involved in turning a slice of meat into a well-seasoned patty was appreciated, and eventually makes its way into aristocratic households, then to the restaurants in the early 1900s. It continues to be popular. McDonald’s in Korea even took it as an inspiration for their Korean-only special bulgogi burger. A famous painting by late Chosun artist Gim Hongdo shows it—the title of this painting translates roughly to “meat feast in snowy evening.” You can see a round fire pit grill with meat on top.

I think the burger made with bulgogi marinade is a great idea, especially because Roadhouse has an open fire grill for the burgers. Putting a bulgogi patty into a burger may not be traditional, but grilling it over open fire is, and the marinade and flavors are too. I can’t wait to try this burger. With the inhouse made kimchi, the good cheddar and Nueske’s bacon, I am sure it will be fit for kings and queens amongst us.

The results were not only inspiring, they’re also tasty. The Roadhouse has long used only pasture raised beef. We bring in whole sides, dry age for three to five weeks, then butcher the beef in the back kitchen. For burgers we grind fresh pretty much daily, then hand patty the meat to avoid the compression that goes with the common industrial patty-making machines (looking for that control and consistency). To add to the “out of control,” the burgers are cooked over a live open wood fire where hot spots are different all the time!

This coming together of Korean and “American” (the origin of hamburgers is the German city of Hamburg) cooking traditions has been happening in the U.S. for over a hundred years now. The first meaningful wave of Korean immigration to American territory started in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. After the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 became law labor recruiters sought out Korean men to take the place of Chinese workers. Among the early immigrants was the humanitarian Ahn Chang Ho, who published under the pen name Dosan. He arrived in the U.S. in 1902 to get an education, then went on to found a Friendship Society in 1903 and a Mutual Assistance Society in 1905. His teachings are inspirational. Here are a couple that seem right for the moment:

• Square rock or rounded boulder, each of them has its own use and we should not rebuke those with personalities that are different from one’s own.

• We will enjoy peace and harmony if we stop despising those with different opinions.

• We must recognize the freedom of speech and thought between each other, and always maintain fellowship and respect, even though we may differ in our views. We should only accept commands that arise from our conscience and ideals.

Come by the Roadhouse and dig into this burger that’s a culmination of folks working together and having great conversations to make the world a tastier place.

Crozier Blue at the Deli

Ireland’s only sheep milk blue cheese is tasting terrific!

Not long before I read The Fifth Discipline I travelled for the first time to Ireland. The trip had a huge impact on my life—I’ve been back about 20-something times, I’ve come to study Irish history and culture extensively, I’ve made dozens of friends there. I love Irish music, and the work of folks like John O’Donohue. It was my last overseas trip I think before the pandemic—teaching ZingTrain at The Fumbally in Dublin.

On that first visit I was focused a lot on cheese. I read (remember, no Internet yet) what I could find in print and put together a list of dairies to visit. One of the first places I stopped was to see Jane and Louis Grubb who were making Cashel Blue near the town of Tipperary, and the incredible Rock of Cashel. The Grubbs were some of the early contributors to what is now a healthy and thriving Irish artisan cheese community—at the time they’d been making the cheese for about six years or so. While cheesemaking was relatively new, the family had been on the land since 1938. Louis took over when his father passed away; his wife Jane had been training as a chef. Soon after they moved back she decided to start making cheese. A few years later they were crafting Cashel Blue which quickly became an Irish artisan classic.

In 1992, the Grubbs decided to add another offering—a sheep’s milk blue cheese in the tradition of Roquefort, going by the name of Crozier Blue. Jane and Louis started by buying 30 ewes and setting up a very basic semi manual milking parlour in an open hay barn out in the pastures. In time their nephew Henry Clifton Brown took ownership of the farming, eventually building the stocks to a sufficient commercial scale to sell on in 2015. In 2003 Sarah Furno, Jane and Louis’s daughter, returned with her husband Sergio Furno to the family farm and cheese dairy, today she runs the Farmhouse Cheesemaking business. Like all of us they’ve had their challenges over the course of the last 12 months (cheesemaking and dairy farming aren’t easy work under any conditions). “The sheep’s milk was one of the main factors that gave us the push to keep on going last April/May,” Sarah shared. “I was having terrible visions of the flocks being butchered, something I found so difficult having built the breeding stock and in turn the category in Ireland.” If you taste their cheese you’ll likely be happy—as I certainly am—that they persevered. Crozier Blue has a wonderful meaty, earthy, creaminess—remarkably, it stands shoulder to shoulder with real French Roquefort, but with its own unique buttery, caramelly, earthy liveliness. What we have in stock now is aged for over eight months to help bring the cheese’s magical flavors to proper maturity. It’s seriously tasting terrific right now and has appropriately won a plethora of awards. Writer Caitríona Mc Bride called Crozier “The Pelé of Irish cheeses.”

You can do anything with Crozier Blue that you’d do with any other great blue cheese. The salad with sweet potatoes, spinach and blue cheese that I wrote up a few weeks ago would be great. Spread some on hot toasted Country Miche. It would be terrific crumbled on a salad with some of those Roadhouse bread croutons I wrote up below! Dutifully delicious stuffed into the Rancho Meladuco dates. Darina Allen, from the Ballymaloe Cookery School, another friend with whom I first connected on that long ago visit thirty years ago, has a great recipe for a salad with grilled pears and Crozier Blue and candied nuts. (The “how to” for the nuts is in her recipe. If you’re not up for making your own, the Spiced Pecans from Mail Order would work perfectly!)

Salt and Pepper Croutons

Homemade croutons to liven up your life!

Ever find yourself wondering what to do with good Bakehouse bread that might be slightly past its prime? Homemade croutons have long been one of my favorite ways to turn what might have gone to waste into something truly wonderful. They aren’t hard to make, and they’re marvelous to eat!

If you start these with any of the Bakehouse breads, you’re certain to end up with a very tasty crouton! The crouton-making generally works better with older bread, but I’ve made the croutons successfully with fresh bread as well—you can let slices air dry for half an hour before you cube them up.

Start the cooking by heating a generous amount of extra virgin oil in a skillet—more than a thin coating, but not so much that you’re deep frying. Drop in a peeled clove of lightly bruised fresh garlic. Cook gently for a few minutes at very modest heat, stirring occasionally so the garlic doesn’t brown. Take the garlic out and then turn up the heat a bit to something resembling medium. Drop a cube of bread in the oil to test the heat—the oil is ready when you get small bubbles coming up around the bread. Add the rest of the bread cubes. You don’t want to pack the pan so full that you can’t move the bread around. If you’re doing a big batch, you can split the cooking into two, so you don’t overcrowd. Stir steadily every minute or two so the cubes brown evenly. Be careful not to leave them alone—they can quickly burn.

As soon as the bread cubes are nicely toasted, move them with a slotted spoon into a mixing bowl. Immediately add a good bit of crushed sea salt. I like the Portuguese one for this because it’s finely ground (more on this salt soon) and subtly sweet. Add a good dose of freshly ground, really great black pepper. We have the Épices de Cru Tellicherry #10 at our house along with the 5 Star Pepper Blend (Tellicherry Reserve, Mlamala, Rajakumari, Tellicherry EB, and Shimoga peppercorns). Really, any of the peppercorns we stock at the Deli would be wonderful. The key is to season the cooked bread cubes while they’re still hot so that the salt and pepper stick well.

You can certainly use other spices as well. I’m big on cumin and fennel. The Épices de Cru folks provide us with a wealth of wonderful curry blends—Trinidad Curry is one of my favorites. Finely ground chiles can be fun too.

I’m particularly partial to using the Roadhouse Bread for croutons. Something about the blend of rye and wheat (milled here at the Bakehouse) and corn, along with the subtle sweetness of the molasses is lovably enhanced by the browning and spiced by the salt and pepper. I end up eating half of them out of the bowl with my fingers like potato chips long before we put salad on the table. You can follow this same recipe with Cinnamon Raisin bread from the Bakehouse as well—the sweet-savory makes a nice touch on salads.

Other Things on My Mind

Zingerman’s Cornman Farms Cooking with a Cause
This is a great new program that the crew at Corman came up with in the midst of riding the Coronacoaster. Here’s what co-managing partner, Tabitha Mason, had to say about it:

Nothing brings a community together like good food, prepared with love. Much like the kitchen is the heart of any home, ours is the heart and soul of Cornman Farms Our online Cook for a Cause program is designed to bring groups of people together online for a feel good culinary experience. It’s a remote cooking class to help nonprofits fundraise in a safe, fun, and unique way! Each participant will pick up their box of ingredients from Cornman Farms, where staff and/or sponsors may greet them. Then, each attendee will join Chef Kieron Hales on Zoom for a 2-hour cooking class that is easy, engaging, and educational! We’ll make fresh mozzarella and potato gnocchi, for a gluten-free, vegetarian meal. We provide a pre-prepared appetizer and dessert as well to make for a full dining experience. Recipes are provided so guests can make these dishes again and again.

Got a cause in mind? Contact the farm for more info at 734-619-8100 or email cornmanevents@zingermans.com.

Passover is Coming—Erev Passover is Saturday, March 27th
The Bakehouse has an array of options—Chocolate Orange Torte, Macaroons, Lemon Sponge Cake, those new Pignoli cookies I wrote about last week, and more!

Don’t forget Passover special pre-order meals for pick-up from the Roadhouse for your celebration! Let us do all the cooking for you this year. We have packages for 2 or 4 that include Creole Matzo Ball Soup, Southwestern Tsimmes inspired by Joan Nathan, Chocolate Orange Torte from the Bakehouse, and more. The deadline for pre-ordering has been extended to 12 noon on March 25th!

The Deli has a whole host of offerings to supply one of the biggest holiday weekends of the year here. Chicken soup, chopped liver, roast chicken, matzo, and so much more! Order from the Deli today!

Listening:
Moriarty is an amazing French band that for some reason I don’t understand seems to get almost no attention here in the U.S. Check out their work. I have all their albums and every time I listen, I’m impressed anew!

Reading:
As we work towards being ever more inclusive and to treating everyone with dignity, it’s important to remember just how “everyday” the demeaning nature of bias can be. This is a piece by a longtime friend, Adrian Miller. Adrian has been a speaker at some of the African American foodways dinners at the Roadhouse over the years as well as at Camp Bacon. His new book, Black Smoke, will be out later this year! Guaranteed to be great!