I asked a few people what dish comes to mind when they think about eggplant, and the answers split about two ways: eggplant parm, Sunday sauce, the family table stuff, or the classic Chinese saucy side dish.

For me, it was always the Sunday sauce. Eggplant showing up sliced and salted on a paper towel on the counter before anyone had even said a word about dinner, my mom moving around the kitchen, the whole house smelling like garlic and frying oil. My mom would chop her garlic and soak it in oil for hours before cooking. The meal would hit the table around five. I wasn’t allowed near the stove, or really the kitchen… My mom is an amazing cook and would ask for help but didn't actually want help. I’ll be honest that is how I am in my kitchen as well.

So: eggplant is the star this month. Here’s where to find it, what to do with it, and where to eat it while it’s still at its peak.

At the market

Eggplant runs opposite corn on the calendar, and that’s good news for anyone who missed the corn window, although corn is very much still here. Eggplant loves heat; it’s hitting its stride right now, and it’s going to keep running strong through the end of summer and semi-deep into fall.

The market is where eggplant stops being one vegetable and starts being ten. The supermarket hands you the big glossy globe and calls it a day, like that’s the whole eggplant story. I beg you to walk through Union Square Market; you’ll find slender Japanese and Chinese eggplant, thin-skinned and barely seeded; they cook in a flash; squat little Indian eggplant, streaky purple and white Graffiti and Fairy Tale varieties; and pale ones that actually look like an egg. Norwich Meadows, the organic stand that’s anchored the market for more than twenty years, is where I’d start. Ask for Zaid, hes the farmer and knows everything you need to know. Find the table with five kinds you don’t recognize and just ask what to do with each one. Union Square runs Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. Go early, do a full lap before you buy anything, bring cash, but they take cards too!

What to do with it:

My favorite way to cook eggplant is SIMPLE. LESS IS MORE.

My absolute go-to is barely a recipe: rough-chopped and roasted eggplant with olive oil, sesame oil, salt, and pepper, paired with creamy coconut rice. Key to success here is coconut oil + coconut milk! I love to top it with Bachan's OG sauce + sesame seeds. I can eat this for breakfast, as I do here. I could eat this for a snack, lunch, or dinner. It’s just one of those dishes.

Grill it and pair it with bread. All you need is eggplant, lemon, olive oil, zaatar, yogurt, garlic, dill, mint, and red onion. Recipe here!

Put it in a sandwich. Easy and delicious. I slice the eggplant thin, then salt it, pepper it, and add olive oil. Oil both sides of bread. Add prosciutto. Add something sweet; I went with peaches in this recipe. Add the roasted eggplant. Add burrata or mozzarella. More salt and pepper. DONE.

Skillet Eggplant Parm with Burrata and Tahini Hot Honey. That's correct. And so much easier than you might be imagining. Look out for the recipe coming out this month on Instagram.

Eggplants night out

Where to find my favorite eggplant dishes in New York, for the nights you don’t feel like cooking it yourself. None of these are specials or seasonal add ons, they’re dishes that have been sitting on these menus for years and aren’t going anywhere, so save this list. Every cuisine in this city claims eggplant as its own, so this one runs from a hundred year old red sauce joint straight through a Sichuan dining room to an Israeli sandwich counter, and it’s all the same vegetable doing all that work.

Bamonte’s has been doing the rollatini since 1900, in a Williamsburg room that looks like it hasn’t been touched since, and there’s something about eating eggplant in a place that old that makes it feel less like an order and more like a tradition you’re being let in on.

Bar Pitti’s melanzane alla parmigiana is the crisp, no fuss version, the kind of order regulars have been putting in at the sidewalk tables for years without ever having to look at the menu.

Rubirosa’s eggplant parm is thin and blistered, closer to a chip than a slab, which is exactly why it works.

Little Owl does the elegant version, the parmigiana that gets a table by the corner windows and a little more restraint than most, on the right side of rare, with a lovely sauce and crisp greens.

Regina’s Grocery built theirs into a sandwich, (i love a sandwich) the Cousin Steven, eggplant caponata and fresh mozzarella packed into a hollowed out stirato roll, a lunch counter staple since the shop opened.

Birds of a Feather is where eggplant gets fancy, the accordions, fish fragrant and fanned out across the plate, the dish that gets photographed at every table before anyone actually eats it.

Noury folds it into something quieter, market cucumbers and eggplant with yuzu kosho and myoga, less of a showpiece and more of a dish that just makes sense once it’s in front of you.

NILI, in Carroll Gardens, is the newest name on this list, but their baba ganoush already reads like a fixture, creamy instead of smoky, finished with a ginger aioli and za’atar that makes it taste more like fall than a dip has any right to.

And Thea, in Fort Greene, sells theirs by the container out of the provisions case, so if you want it in your own kitchen without making it yourself, that’s the move.

I hope that if you're not an eggplant lover, this gives you the space to give it a second chance. And if you're still not into it, I respect that. We can’t love it all. There will be a different food item next month :)

Xx

Gina

My nervous system, my innermost thoughts, my anxieties, my stressors - they’re louder than they used to be, and I think it took me up until now to realize that. (As I type this, I’m simultaneously googling different types of magnesium glycinate and natural sleep aids at midnight) 

In the moments I get peace and quiet these days (which, the older I get, I’m realizing is so critical for my processing and coping abilities, and also the older I get the less I get of these moments), I’ve tried to sit with what’s looping on the ceiling at 3am. The loop is never the past. It’s always the future.

It’s the list I didn’t make yet. It’s the emails and texts still sitting unanswered. It’s my anxiety insisting I didn’t leave enough time for something, even when I know, logically, that I did. It's the balance between life, work, kid, romance, friendship, being a good daughter; I could go on. 

I work for myself; my days and weeks are certainly not conventional. Work comes in from a few different avenues at once and I love that about my life. I am grateful daily and happy weekly. But it also means there’s no external container holding any of it. No boss closing my laptop. No shift ending. No one else tracking whether the ball got dropped. My brain is the system. So when the day finally goes quiet, my brain doesn’t get to clock out with it, it just switches from doing the work to auditing the work, running the list again, checking for the thing I

might have missed, because if I miss it, nobody’s there to catch it but me. Then I catch myself calculating how many times I've spoken to a specific friend in the last 5 months. Or the last time I went on a date with my husband. (Life is a lot these days, isn’t it?) 

While writing this, getting my thoughts on paper, I’ve realized what I need to accept to maybe try and help quiet my brain. The life I built, the one I’m so genuinely excited about, is also the cause of my new friend, insomnia.  How do you regulate all of the vastly different, complicated, beautiful parts of life into a manageable concept? 

This is my attempt at trying to do just that. I think it will start with meeting my mind and body where they are. At 32, I am not the same person (or sleeper) I was at 25. My responsibilities have changed, my body has changed. (Talking about sleep after baby is a wholleeeee other topic.) Maybe it’s even coming to terms with a hard truth about this city. I love New York, more than I can explain. This is my home. I’m from here and planned to stay here. But there is a hum here that never fully turns off, obviously. That’s half the reason why we’re all here. I wonder if my body picked up that hum somewhere along the way and forgot how to put it down. Maybe it’s also coming to terms with the fact that I built a life with no fixed shape on purpose. I wanted the freedom of it, the multiple avenues, not knowing exactly what a Tuesday will look like. 

I don’t have a tidy ending for this one. As I said above, life is a lot these days. Kid or no kid, working for yourself or working for someone else, with a partner or no partner, our modern world is stacked against us finding peace and tranquility within ourselves. My next step is finding my root cause, the reason for the switch flipping on and never off. And I know, probably, it won’t ever go back to the way it used to, and I’m ok with that. But I would like to try to sleep at least 7 hours at some point. 

+++

Tangent to this ending. The emotional component is the biggest part of this. But, sleep hygiene is not nothing. So I’ve been diving headfirst into sleep hygiene, which I’m sure everyone in their thirties has already read articles about. I wanted to include some of my learnings, shopping carts, tips and tricks that have maybe helped me get an extra hour here and there. I’m no expert, obviously, but please enjoy my deep midnight research below. 

• No phone an hour before bed. If you must have your phone, the red light glasses. 5-10 min meditation (I fail every time). A book instead. Hot tea instead. And look, I’m sorry, some of this is doable, truly, but for a second let me talk to the toddler parents in the room. Some nights you just lose. Some nights the day was too much, and the only thing that’s going to regulate you is scrolling, or screaming into a pillow, or watching something dumb on the couch, and that’s fine. That’s allowed. I usually just pay for it the next morning. 

• I’ve got an Eight Sleep cooling topper in a cart I keep opening and closing, and a Purple mattress tab open in another window because everyone has an opinion and what they swear by and I welcome all of it. Can’t wait to find my version of this. 

• I booked a functional medicine appointment because at some point you have to stop guessing and ask if there’s something actually going on in my body, some deficiency or imbalance that’s quietly running the show. 

• I also booked a virtual sleep specialist appointment, because why not talk it out?

• Lemme Sleep gummies or a Seed Rest & Restore gets me closer to 6 or 7 hours, which for me, is the biggest win. But I've taken then too regularly that that haven't been doing much of anything other than a sweet treat at night. 

• I ordered the red tinted glasses and the computer glasses by Bon Charge like they were going to save me. (Honestly, I'm loving them. And loving my Ironman look) I’ve got the infrared wrap now too. 

• I’ve been getting into my infrared sauna blanket a few times a week, lying there sweating it out, telling myself I’m doing something good for my body even if I can’t draw a straight line from the blanket to a better night’s sleep yet. 

To conclude this sleep saga: things aren’t great, but I’m finally admitting that. I’m not the first person to struggle with sleep in their 30s, and I won’t be the last. Cheers to more zzz’s (hopefully)

Xx

G

Corn isn’t only dinner this month. It’s a color, a table, a mood, a whole way of doing summer. So here’s how to bring it into your house, into your wardrobe, and onto your table.

Here’s what a corn shopping guide looks like in my head:

The Table

Corn season is a table-first season, so start here.

The one that made me laugh out loud: an actual corncob candle from Slow Roads. It’s a wax ear of corn. Put it in the middle of the table and let it do the entire theme by itself.

Then build the color in through the bowls, which is the easiest, least-costume way to wear the trend on your table. The Stoneware Nut Bowls from Anthropologie are a chunky, cheerful pair; Sézane’s Romie bowl in yellow is the softer, prettier one; and Spicer & Wood’s chunky-edge small bowl is the handmade British option if you want a little wobble and weight. Any of the three reads corn without a single kernel printed on it.

For flatware, go playful. The Mepra Fantasia set brings color to the place setting, and Hudson Grace’s Salad Server Set is the perfect pop you want in our bowl on your table!

And the chic move nobody else will make: go vintage. Shawnee Pottery’s Corn King line and its cousins from McCoy and Stanford - bright kernels, green husks, molded into pitchers and salt-and-peppers - are collectible, cheerful, and look like nothing you can buy new. Hunt them on Etsy - This one was a winner for me!

In New York, walk into Fishs Eddy at 889 Broadway, the Americana-tabletop institution; it's always stocked with corn and farm-stand prints in summer. John Derian in the East Village for the decoupage-and-whimsy version, Coming Soon on the LES for the playful-modern take!!!

The Host

Corn season is dinner-party season, so this is the hostess-gift section too.

The perfect object: Gohar World’s yellow host gloves. They are exactly what they sound like - gloves for the host - and they’re absurd and wonderful and the single most on-brand thing in this entire guide.

The move that’s pure corn logic: bring the butter. A block of good cultured butter and a tin of Jacobsen flaky salt is a small, perfect gift for anyone about to grill a dozen ears; it costs little, and it’s exactly right for the month. Wrap it with the corncob candle from above and you’ve given something nobody else will think of. If your host is a wine lover, show up with this orange; it's a skin-contact disco. I personally buy 3 or 6 bottles at a time and have some on reserve for hosting or bringing to friends! Lastly, a chic party trick: bring Bonilla a la Vista Potato Chips. Order them or pop in Big Night! They always have <3

The Closet

Here’s the color story from the companion piece, made shoppable: corn yellow, the warmer, deeper cousin of the butter yellow that’s been everywhere - grilled-cob gold, not pale butter - with husk green as its partner. (Butter yellow was the single most-searched fashion color of early 2026, so the shade is proven). We’re just giving it an August name!

The statement piece is the skirt: Simon Miller’s Za Za knit fringe skirt in butter. Fringe, movement, exactly the right yellow. Build the whole look around it and pair it with this T-shirt.

For shoes, two sneak directions and one stunner flat. The Samba OG in shock yellow is the loud one, and the adidas x Song for the Mute Tokyo in beige lets the yellow lead everywhere else. Everyday flats that are actually comfortable - Freda Salvador Square Toe Ballet Flats.

Accessories are my love language, and where I have the most fun. A girl can certainly dream right? Because these three items I do not own but deeply wish I did. If you’re in a place looking to splurge, click these links. If you are not, don't click. The wishlist: Jil Sander’s metallic handle tote bag, and the Prada Pre-Owned Lux Promenade satchel both bring that vintage luxe warmth. And my current obsession, this Cult Mia coat!!!!!!

Two other in-person shops that almost always have a touch of corn yellow are Sézane’s L’Appartement at 254 Elizabeth in Nolita; it's always a purchase win. Loving the Romie bowl from the table section, so it’s a one-stop corn-yellow trip. Second stop is always The Frankie Shop in Tribeca or Soho - my eyes are on this button-down.

The Kiddos

Because obviously our children need in on the theme, too.

The Artist T by Ziggy Zag is one of Mars’ favorites. We have it in green and white!! The masking tape pants from Milk Teeth are the playful bottom to go with it. And this Gingham Ruffled Sleeveless Capri Set from maisonette is, quite literally, corn on a kid. Last purchase I'm making for now through fall and winter is yellow Hunter Boots. Because she just needs them. Mars and most kidos loves walking or running in the rain, lets make it cuter.

For the shelf, Aliki’s classic picture book Corn Is Maize is the corn-season read, the kind of thing you grab at McNally Jackson on a walk, which doubles as a very good afternoon with a kid in tow.

The Support System

I got a Hearth Display for my apartment a few months back, and it’s genuinely changed how I run my kitchen. I use it on my phone and on the display itself, for cooking, calendar holds, weekly and monthly family planning, all of it. Where it actually matters most is when I’m hosting small or medium groups at home. The checklists and grocery lists mean I can check things off as I go instead of holding it all in my head, which sounds small, but it’s actually done something for my mental health. I move faster, and I’m not stuck holding every detail myself, so I’m actually present with my guests instead of running through a list in my head all night.

It’s turned into a family thing too. Mars is two and a half, and she’s already checking things off the grocery list before we head out, or crossing things off the cooking checklist when we’re getting ready for guests. Small stuff, but it’s teaching her early that running a home is a team effort; we are all in this together!

Three months in and I’m still using it constantly. The other thing worth mentioning is the recipe vault, just a place to drop recipes I want to try, tweak, get inspired by, whatever.

The Hearth might not be corn yellow, but it certainly holds a few corn recipes.

The Point

Corn is the theme this month, head to toe, table to closet. Light the corncob candle, throw on the fringe skirt, pair it with yellow Sambas, then dress your kid to match.

This is my first ever link-heavy shopping guide; let me know your honest thoughts. I save an absurd number of links: things I buy, things I want to buy, things I buy for other people. I’m not going to pretend I’m not a consumer; I love to spend, and I love things, the two-dollar ones and the ones that cost a lot more. The goal here is just to let you peek into my shopping brain, and hopefully you find something in there you love too.

Until next time!

xx

Gina

Corn reminds me of sweet summer childhood. Corn was always on my dad’s grills. Anytime you went to a BBQ, 8/10 times corn was present. It's just easy and delicious. And I can confidently say corn is Mars’ favorite food and has been for a while. She had her first bite ever when she was 6 months old in Spain, and it's been a summer-month favorite ever since. Here's Mars literally last night…She does not miss a kernel.

So: corn is the star. Here’s where to find it, what to do with it, and where to eat while you wait for it to hit its peak.

At the market

New York corn doesn’t really arrive until mid-July, and it doesn’t hit its ridiculous peak until August. The time is now!

Two stands I’d walk past everyone else to reach. Sycamore Farms, out of Middletown, grows some of the best sweet corn in the market (and the best heirloom tomatoes, but that’s a future issue). And Norwich Meadows, which has been the chef’s-choice organic stand at Union Square for more than twenty years and has never once steered me wrong. Union Square runs Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. Go early, do a full lap before you buy anything, and bring cash even though most of them take cards now.

Picking it is simple, and everyone overthinks it. You want an ear that’s heavy for its size, a husk that’s bright green and wrapped tight, and silk at the top that’s golden and slightly sticky, not brown and dried out. You do not need to peel it back and manhandle it in front of the farmer. And then the only rule that actually matters….eat it that day or as soon as possible. Corn starts turning its sugar to starch the minute it’s picked, so the ear you eat tonight is a different, sweeter vegetable than the one you let sit until Thursday. Same-day is the entire point. It’s why the market ear beats the supermarket ear every single time, and it isn’t close.

Recipes for the month:

Corn being the star and the behind-the-scenes

Sweet Corn & Crab Fritters - video

Summer Corn & Coconut Milk Risotto with Seared Scallops - video

Corn Gazpacho - video

Corn Salad w/ Apricot, Eggplant, and Greens (aka everything you want in a bowl) - video

Two recipes that are not mine, but a dear friend's. Justine Snacks comes up with some of the best recipes. Always fun. Always creative. Try her:

Miso Corn Rice with Chili Cod

Corn Gazpacho with Salmon & Crispy Rice

Treat yourself to Corn

Where to find my favorite corn dishes and sweets in NYC

Lonnie’s - Sweet Corn & Tomato Tagliatelle

Bong - Corn side

Red Gate Bakery - Corn Bun & Corn Cake

Redfarm - Sauteed Summer Corn

Papa Damour - Elote Corn Soft Serve

Chim Chim - Sweet Corn Cheese Cake

My list was long! I made it to only 6 spots (mom/worklife). But here’s the full list of spots that have corn specials or rotating dishes currently on their menu!

That’s all for now. Stay tuned for the corn shopping addition coming soon!!!!!!!!

Here’s this month’s playlist in case you missed it <3

xx

Gina

The Fifth Course was my entry into Substack, and I loved every second of the journey. But I felt myself getting really constrained by my own parameters. It was guides, and literally, what comes after the meal.

I started to free-write, and that’s what started a conversation with myself and with others. My actual life refuses to stay inside the meal. It spills. It always has. So with a bit of a pause, a touch of a reset, and a new shiny name and logo, I am rebranding to Gina Loves Pizza. And if you know me… I feel like you might agree this name suits me better.

What’s not changing is me. Same voice, same way of seeing things, same person you’ve been letting into your inbox this whole time. If you liked it as The Fifth Course, you’ll like it as Gina Loves Pizza. It’s the same here, maybe just wearing a better outfit and a very raw voice.

What I learned in the last year of diving into Substack: the biggest lesson is that writing is a different muscle. Writing needs to happen when you’re feeling creative and have thoughts flowing. Writing never worked for me when I forced myself to do it, and even less so when I forced myself to stay in the boxes I’d made for myself.

This rebrand comes with new territory. I’m going to focus on an ingredient a month. Thoughts, opinions, recipes, recommendations, all built around that ingredient. Then I’ll give you the moodboard and clickable links I’m pairing with it. Fashion, table settings, kids’ books and clothes, and again, that mood that lives in my head.

A playlist per month is staying. Because why would it leave??

And I’m keeping my essays. Once a month, I’ll write about an honest idea or topic I’m feeling or going through, or something others have brought to my attention.

This shift is ultimately meant to be more true to myself. Because let’s face it, for me and most, if you’re true to yourself, that’s when the best product or work flows.

So four years later… Gina Loves Pizza returns to this mini-universe of mine!

Pull up a chair. Or don’t. Thank you so much for being here and following along the chaos I call life ❤️

Here's August's playlist (a tad early but dive in)!

I will be posting the first seasonal sub a week before August to get ahead of a few recommendations and recipes! See you next week

xx

Gina

It is the cutest thing I have ever seen and I’m aware that’s a low bar because she’s mine, but still.

There’s a particular restlessness that builds in you when you live in Brooklyn. It starts somewhere around your sternum and creeps up. You’re walking past the same bodega, breathing the same exhaust, dodging the same scaffolding, and one day you realize your kid has not seen a worm in weeks.

Brooklyn is the love of my life. I will defend her in any room. But the city has a way of pressing in on you, and on a toddler, and there’s a moment that comes (often, lately) where I look at Mars and think okay, we need to find some grass. Now. Today.

New York gives us a lot, and the parks are her great mercy. Prospect and Central are not just parks. They are portals. You walk in through one of those stone arches or down some path lined with overgrown something or other, and the sound shifts. The horns dim. The pace drops. Suddenly you’re somewhere else. Somewhere green. And there’s a toddler in front of you bending over a patch of clover with the kind of focus most people reserve for very serious things.

I love that Mars is growing up in the city. For now. She’s cultured in a way I never was at her age. She’s bold. She’s exposed to people and food and noise and color and weirdos and beauty. I would not trade any of it. But there is simply nothing, nothing, like watching your kid run flat-out across an open lawn for no reason. watching her flop down on her belly and roll. Watching her decide, on her own, that a dandelion is worth carrying home. Letting her use nature as her backdrop as she doodles and makes up stories.

The other gift of a park day is the snacks.

Non-negotiable in our house. A park day is a snack day. Me and now Mars, we like variety. We are not one-snack people. We set up for hours and we want options, we want stations, we want the buffet experience under a tree.

I pack a variety of snacks. A few sweet treats because joy is allowed. On this particular day, we have Gildas, pickled rhubarb, fruits and pasta. Along with a rotating cast of our clean go-tos, which is where Little Spoon comes in. The puffs are a no-brainer, easy, mess-free, gone in a second. The oat bars do a lot of heavy lifting on the hungry-toddler-meltdown front. And then there are the Fruit Rippers, which Mars and I have started calling twizzlers because that is basically what they are. The closest thing to candy without being candy, which means they are extremely precious cargo. But we eat these on our way home, we share them, one for her, one for me, all the way home. It is its own little ritual now. Sometimes I think she only agrees to leave because there’s a ripper waiting.

I’ve talked about Little Spoon before and I will keep talking about them because the ingredient list is the kind of thing I can actually read and pronounce, and Mars loves the taste, and that is the whole equation. Win, win, blanket spread out, kid covered in grass, weed bouquet drying in the sun.

These little days are the real ones. The ones I want to remember. Not the big plans, not the events, not the schedule. Just a blanket, my kid rolling around like a small wild animal, a pile of found flowers/weeds, and snacks within arm’s reach.

Touch the grass. Bring the snacks. Let them get a little dirty. Let them pick the weeds.

Xx

Gina 🍅

November and December are a blur of obligation. Work events, family events, too much food, too much wine, too much everything. Then January rolls in expecting you to arrive with a clear head and a vision board, like you didn’t just survive a full sprint through the holiday industrial complex.

I need two weeks just to digest. Another three to stop writing the wrong year on things. And the emotional processing? There’s no timeline for that. Life doesn’t pause so you can do a proper debrief on the one you just had.

And let’s talk about the weather, because I think it matters more than we admit. January and February on the east coast are grey and punishing. You cannot have a life-changing positive headspace when it’s 28 degrees and the sky looks like a wet paper bag. I’m sorry, but you cannot.

March is a tease. One warm day, then a week of wind and misery. You’re not ready yet. You’re thawing. Although, March for me is a pot that is starting to reach a boil because my strong Aries nature is coming out of hibernation. The convincing idea that I can indeed take over the world, and take over the world while holding my kid in one arm and answering a voice-noted email in the other, starts to kick in strong. If you’re an Aries, you understand this burning firing inside. There’s really nothing like it.

But April? April is when something actually shifts. The light comes back. You’re not white-knuckling through anymore. You want to move, to plan, to start things. That restlessness that January promises but never delivers, April actually hands it to you.

If you’re in New York, you know April here is its own specific thing. It’s 80 degrees, then 40, then three days of rain, then a committed 65 and sunny that just stays. And when that weather finally commits, it’s like the whole city took a molly dip together. Everyone is nicer. There’s less honking. There’s more skin. Outdoor drinking becomes a personality and no one is questioning it.

When New York wakes up like this, it is a concrete heaven. There is no other way to say it. The energy is addictive in the best way and suddenly the new beginning you’ve been waiting for since January 1st actually feels possible. Not forced. Not aspirational. Just real.

That’s what a New Year is supposed to feel like. And for me, it never arrives until now.

Process is a craft.

And I didn’t arrive at mine all at once. I arrived at it the way most people arrive at the things that actually stick. Slowly. By noticing what needed.

My birthday falls at the end of March. Every year, without fail, something shifts in me around that time. Not dread, more like a door creaking open. Another year just closed behind me and I’m standing at the threshold of the next one, and April is right there waiting. I think the timing is part of why April feels so personal. It’s not just the season changing. It’s me changing.

So a few years ago I started doing something about that feeling instead of just having it. Every year now, I take myself away for two nights. Alone. No kid, no husband, no inbox I feel obligated to. Just me and whatever I’ve been carrying that I haven’t had the space to actually look at yet.

What happens in those two nights is harder to explain than it sounds. There’s practical stuff. I plan my calendar, mark off trips I actually want to take, protect a few date nights before the year swallows them. But the planning is almost just an excuse to sit still long enough to hear myself think. The real work is the clearing. Remembering what I want, separate from what I’m managing. Remembering that those are two different things.

I come back recalibrated. Not fixed, not transformed, just more myself than I was when I left. And every time, without fail, that feeling arrives right as April does.

There’s something nobody tells you about getting older, which is that the calendar stops feeling neutral. January 1st used to mean something to me. The collective exhale and inhale, the whole world turning the page at the same time, the energy lush and full of possibility. I used to love it. The champagne, the intentions, the feeling that this year was going to be different. I bought into all of it!

And then I just didn’t anymore. Not because I became cynical, but because I started paying attention. Or not caring? By December 31st I am wrecked. Completely and totally wrung out. And the world expects me to flip a switch at midnight and arrive January 1st brand new. First off, for the last three years I didn't make it to midnight, and I’ll keep that train going… New Year's now feels like a forced performance.

So I stopped performing. I stopped trying to bloom in the cold. I gave myself permission to find my own conditions, protect them, return to them every year, and call that a practice. If I want to throw a wrench in the plan one year, that's fine. Your life, well, my life, we should be able to make the rules.

And I want to ask you the same. Not January 1st you, not the version of you white-knuckling through a vision board in the dark. The real you. The one who knows, if you’re honest, exactly which conditions you need to open up.

When does your year actually begin? What does it feel like when it does? And what do you do, or what do you wish you did, to meet yourself there?

Tell me in the comments!! I want to know what centers you. I’m a firm believer that if something is working for one of us, it can work for someone else too. So let’s share it. ♡

Xx,

Gina

I’ve always loved birthdays. Mine, yours, theirs, all of them. There’s something about carving out one day a year to say you exist and that matters that feels necessary. Because a year holds so much, a year can be a triumph. A year can be an emotional demolition derby. Maybe you thrived. Maybe you survived. Both are valid. Both are needed. The hard years are what make the great ones feel so damn grand. I feel the same way about cold plunges. If you can start your day with 30-degree water up to your neck, everything else that happens feels manageable by comparison. Don’t come for me.

31 to 32 felt like a lot. In the best way, and in the very real, very messy way. I’m raising a wild, opinionated, brilliant little girl. I’m a wife, a friend. I cook, I host, I run an event space, I’m a private chef, and a year ago I started a podcast called Campers. I still don’t have a clean title for what I do. I’ve stopped looking for one.

What I do know is that this year became about something specific: figuring out how food and motherhood live together. Not balanced. Not separated into neat compartments. Just honestly, messily blended, because that’s what my life actually looks like.

This past weekend I hosted the first Latching On panel. Three panels, three different corners of motherhood. This one: pregnancy, lactation, and the fourth trimester. I'll be honest, it hit harder than I expected.

The room was full in a way that had nothing to do with capacity. It was open. Raw. There was food, there were recipes, but what actually filled that room was the permission to talk about something that somehow still feels taboo. Early motherhood is not soft or poetic. It’s hormones and identity loss and a body that doesn’t feel like yours anymore. It’s no sleep and no roadmap and an unspoken expectation to just bounce back. Handle it. Move on.

Motherhood changes you completely. You don’t return to who you were before. I don’t think you’re supposed to.

So I stopped trying to find my way back. I’m building forward instead, for me, and for every mom who is still in the thick of it. Two more Latching On panels to come. This year is about blending my food life with my mother life. Turns out they were never that separate to begin with.

This year had doubts. Disappointments. Days I overworked and days I stopped mid-task and thought, girl, what the actual f** are you doing??? But through all of it, I have never trusted my intuition more. And let me tell you, that feeling? It’s everything. I found my path. I’m on it. I’m trusting it.

For years I was doing without knowing where I was going. That lost feeling is consuming when it sets in, and it did. I can’t know what the future holds and honestly, I wouldn’t want to, but for the first time, I believe it’s bright.

I love my 30s. I needed them. The clock struck 30 and something in me shifted. I became an adult and a parent within the same month. I gave birth one month before I turned 30, which feels like the universe’s way of making sure I got the memo. No easing in. Just: here’s a human, good luck.

My 20s, though. I’m honestly surprised I remember as much of them as I do. Little to no responsibility, decisions made based on whichever way the wind blew, and I could drink you under the table and still be at work at 9am with a smile. My 20s are where I fell in love with hospitality, with the energy of it, the people, the beautiful chaos. I just had to fine-tune the relationship a little. The 30s helped with that.

31 to 32, something clicked. I know what I want. I’m not scared of the work it takes to get there. The late nights are fewer (though listen, a party girl is always a party girl. I’m not a monk). My love for my growing daughter is the kind that doesn’t have language yet. My marriage has quietly become something I’m proud of: two people who used to be just partners, figuring out in real time what it looks like to actually build something together. And my friendships? I’ve stopped apologizing for what they look like. An unanswered text chain. A meme sent at midnight. Three missed calls, no voicemail. And then, out of nowhere: “I have an hour, want to grab a glass of wine?” Yes. Always yes. Those are my people.

The little things bring me more joy than they ever have. A perfect plate of pasta eaten in silence. An episode of something good with zero interruptions (rare). A walk in the sun. A date with my husband. Pressing purchase on something I don’t need but want, and being able to.

This year has been positive with a side of imbalance and challenge. I had loss. Grief has a way of sitting next to joy without apology, and this year I let them coexist. It made the good moments feel more intentional, more chosen. You don’t take the quiet Tuesday nights for granted when you know how fast things can change.

Now. About birthdays. I don’t just love them. I love celebrating them. And those celebrations come in all shapes and sizes.

This year I had a vision. A big one. A birthday bash in my own home — bartenders, dim lighting, fried chicken and caviar, the perfect outfit, and everyone I love in one room. I made a guest list. I got excited. I started planning. Then March arrived, and March had other ideas. Multiple events. A panel. Recipe development. A toddler. Sleepless nights. Two days into planning, I looked at my life and said, very clearly: f** no.*

And so instead, as I write this, I am on a plane with my headphones in, currently listening to “The Thrill Is Gone” by B.B. King, 41 minutes from Aruba. No child. No guest list. No bartenders. Just my husband, two books, and comfortable clothes. My only plan is to find a good spot and stay in it for as long as humanly possible while eating mounds of fruit and sipping on a skinny marg.

This year taught me a lot. But more than anything, it taught me to listen to what you actually need. Your intuition will let you know. Mine told me to get on the plane.

32, you have arrived, and I’m ready for you!

March Playlist - She’s all over the place. Just like I like it…….welcome to my brain.

xx

Gina

Family and friends are incredible, but there’s something different about two moms locking eyes and knowing exactly what the other is describing in just a few words.

Good food. Honest conversation. A little warmth in a moment of life that can feel both magical and completely overwhelming.

Latching On came from that feeling.

Food has always been at the center of my life. My work, my creativity, my way of caring for people. But when it came to feeding a baby, and now a toddler, I suddenly found myself full of questions. Doubts. Little struggles I never expected around something that once felt so natural. Some days it flows beautifully. Other days… not at all.

Food is powerful. It is comfort, culture, and connection. One of the very first ways we care for our children and for each other.

So I wanted to create a space around that. A place where conversations about motherhood can move through all of it. Feeding, exhaustion, joy, confusion, identity shifts, and everything in between.

This spring, I am hosting a small series of gatherings for mothers and moms-to-be.

Part conversation.
Part nourishment.
Part community.
All motherhood.

Event 1

Pregnancy, Birth & the Fourth Trimester
Saturday, March 21, 2026 | 11 AM | Bon Studio NYC

Our first gathering focuses on pregnancy, those early weeks and months after birth — the fourth trimester. When everything feels new and very tender.

We’ll begin with snacks and sips by Preethi Kumar, founder of Wannachaatt, followed by a panel conversation I’ll lead with Sophia Roe, Leah Tribus, a lactation specialist, and Dr. Louisa Ferrara-Gonzalez, an infant feeding specialist, on the realities of early motherhood. From latching and feeding to postpartum recovery and the emotional shifts that come with it.

We’ll also have a cooking demo and conversation with Phoebe Tran, chef and founder of Bé Bêp, centered around nourishing food during pregnancy and postpartum.

More than anything, this morning is about being together. Asking questions. Sharing stories. Maybe hugging another mom who understands exactly where you are.

Snag your ticket & join us

What Comes Next

Event 2

The First Bite: Intro into Baby-Led Weaning
Saturday, April 11

A conversation about that next big step — introducing that first taste of mush, baby-led weaning, solids, and building confidence around feeding your baby in the first year.

Event 3

Toddlers, Control & Mealtime Power Struggles
Saturday, May 2, 2026

Because toddler eating is… a journey. We’ll talk honestly about picky eating, independence, boundaries at the table, and the emotional dance that often shows up at mealtime.

Event 4

Mother’s Day Market
Sunday, May 3, 2026

A small celebration to close the first series! Bringing mothers, families, and makers together for a beautiful Mother’s Day gathering.

Come curious.
Come hungry.
Come exactly as you are.

Babies welcome for all panels + markets 🤍

Tickets for the first gathering are available here. I really hope to see you there!!!!

xx

Gina

What I didn’t expect was how natural it would feel having both of them there. I thought the conversation might split, or that I would have to pull between two different perspectives. Instead it did the opposite. It opened the room up. One of them would start a thought and the other would gently add to it, not correcting, just layering in another angle. You could feel years of shared decisions, shared risks, shared life sitting right there at the table with us.

There’s something different about having two people in the space. The conversation has somewhere else to go.

At one point Tom was explaining something about the kitchen, about the discipline and pressure of fine dining, and Marybeth jumped in with a story that softened it, adding a completely different lens. Not contradicting him, just widening the frame. He looked at her, smiled, and let her finish the thought. It was a small moment but it said everything. Respect, trust, rhythm.

I’ve interviewed a lot of people about food. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation quite like this one.

By the time we sat down to eat, I felt like I’d been let into something. Not just a meal. A life they’ve been building together around food, work, and family. And the table was just where it all met.

ABOUT OUR GUESTS

Tom Allan, Executive Chef, The Modern

Tom Allan leads one of New York’s most quietly extraordinary dining rooms. The Modern sits inside MoMA, surrounded by art, and holds two Michelin stars. The room is calm, precise, and deeply intentional, much like his cooking.

His path ran through some of the most demanding kitchens in the world. Per Se. Eleven Madison Park. Then Paris, at Le Meurice. Each place sharpened a different instinct before he arrived at The Modern, where he has been Executive Chef since 2020.

His food is often described as restrained but emotional. Nothing about it feels loud or performative. It is thoughtful, balanced, and grounded in feeling. Tom believes fine dining should move people, not just impress them. You understand that the moment you sit down.

Marybeth Allan, Director of Creative Studio, Shake Shack

Marybeth Allan has spent nearly eight years helping shape how Shake Shack looks, feels, and tells its story. She started in production and grew into the person guiding the brand’s creative studio, the one responsible for translating an idea into something people recognize and trust across hundreds of locations.

Before Shake Shack, she worked across hospitality and media in New York as a freelance producer and account manager. Those years taught her how to build systems that actually work, while still protecting the feeling behind them.

Her work lives in that balance. The structure that allows a brand to grow, and the care that keeps it human. She is part of the reason Shake Shack still feels like Shake Shack.

Together

Tom runs a two Michelin starred dining room. Marybeth helps shape one of the most recognizable fast casual brands in the world.

They are also married. They are parents. And they are the first couple to sit down at Campers. Their careers live on very different ends of the dining spectrum, but the foundation is the same. Both of them care deeply about how people experience food. Not just how it looks, but how it lands.

WHAT’S ON THE PASS

They asked me to cook two things: a crab boil and chicken wings. Both rooted in childhood. Not exactly two dishes I would normally make, especially not together, but somehow it worked.

The smell in the room was questionable, yet indulgent. Still, they walked in smiling.

Both dishes were actually pretty simple to make. Minimal ingredients and an easy process. The boil was exactly that, boiled with fragrant seasoning, with each ingredient going in for its own amount of time. The chicken wings were a bit more of a process, a multi step bake to make sure they came out extra crispy.

I don’t make wings very often. I’m not much of a football girl, but I do love eating them at a bar with all the blue cheese and celery. I can’t even remember the last time I had them, but they definitely bring back great food memories.

Going through this process, though, I could see this becoming something I make again. An easy, indulgent snack for the fall or winter months.

THE CONVERSATION

The long way around

Tom didn’t map out a career. He moved to New York at 19, started at Blue Smoke, and just kept saying yes. Per Se. Eleven Madison Park. Then a detour to Paris, to Le Meurice, where he experienced a different kind of rigor.

The more I got to know him, though, the more I realized how much of his life he actually manifested.

Marybeth built something different, but with a similar spirit. After years in hospitality and then media, then she spent eight years growing one thing. Over time she moved deeper and deeper into the same brand until she was shaping its entire creative culture.

Two different paths, but the same thread running through both. Showing up, doing the work, and not skipping steps.

They bet on each other, took chances together, and built a life and career around food as a family.

Craft at both ends of the table

Fine dining and fast casual are supposed to be opposites. But spend an hour with Tom and Marybeth and that idea starts to feel a little thin.

Tom talks about precision and emotion in the same breath. Marybeth talks about scale, soul, and creative energy like they can live in the same place. At the core, they are both trying to do the same thing. Make people feel something through food. They just do it in different rooms, under the same umbrella.

The tension between luxury and accessibility came up more than once, but neither of them seemed interested in defending one side or the other. The more interesting question for both of them was simpler. What does the person on the other end actually feel?

Marybeth told a story from her time working at Eleven Madison Park. She was pulling doubles, long days that ran from morning into midnight. Inside, everything was polished and precise, the kind of energy that only exists in a world class dining room. On her break she would step outside, sit in Madison Square Park, and eat a Shake Shack burger.

It gave her a moment of calm. And every bite, as simple as it was, still carried so much care and craft. In a small way, it felt like both worlds meeting in the middle.

Danny Meyer

Both Tom and Marybeth have worked closely with Danny Meyer, and the way they talk about that relationship says a lot. It never comes off as name dropping. It feels more like quiet acknowledgment. Here is someone who shaped how I think about hospitality, and I am still carrying those lessons with me.

Danny’s influence runs deep through New York’s restaurant world. Not just through the restaurants themselves, but through the people who passed through them and the way they learned to think about care, service, and the experience around food.

Tom and Marybeth both sit inside that lineage. Tom came up through the kitchen side, inside some of the most exacting dining rooms in the city. Marybeth came through the brand and storytelling side, learning how hospitality translates at scale.

Different doors, same house. And you can feel that shared foundation in the way they talk about food, people, and the work.

Paris

The Paris conversation with Tom and Marybeth warmed my heart. I have a real soft spot for Paris. Maybe it is a soft spot, maybe it is an addiction. Honestly it is probably the same thing.

For Tom, the chef has always been Alain Ducasse. The end all, be all. When Tom first started working in kitchens he saved his money to buy Ducasse’s book. At the time it felt like studying a master from a distance. A few years later he found himself in Paris, working for him.

That part of the story says a lot about Tom. He believed in something deeply enough to chase it all the way across the ocean.

They dropped everything and moved to Paris so Tom could take that position. No long debate, no perfect timing. Just a shared yes. They lived there for about two years and loved every second of it.

That kind of move is rare. Most people talk about doing something like that. Very few actually pack up their lives and go. But Tom and Marybeth did. And that one decision quietly changed the shape of both of their careers.

Parenthood changes the math

They are both parents. And like me, they are figuring out what it means to care deeply about the work while also caring deeply about a kid. The guilt is real. The choices never stop. There is always a quiet math happening in the background. Time here, time there. Something has to give and the answer is never perfectly clear.

What I appreciated most was that neither of them tried to wrap it up in a clean answer. They just spoke honestly about it. About the things they have had to let go of. The things they protect. And how their daughter has slowly shifted the way they think about the work in the first place. The work still matters, maybe even more, but the reason behind it has changed.

Where you really see it is in how they function as a team. They run a tight ship at home. Their schedule is dialed in down to the minute. They showed me their shared calendar and it was honestly a thing of beauty. Every hour accounted for. Color coded. Work, school, play, activities, life. The level of organization was impressive. I would be thrilled to achieve even a fraction of that kind of structure.

Their daughter is a very lucky girl. From day one she has been backstage at The Modern, wandering through one of the best dining rooms in the city like it is normal life. She already has the inside scoop on burgers and fries, which feels like a pretty great way to grow up.

A small note that really stuck with me. Their daughter Margaux became fascinated with one of The Modern’s most famous dishes, Eggs on Eggs. It is a beautiful, delicate dish, and apparently a favorite of hers.

One day she surprised Tom with an incredibly good drawing of it. That drawing now hangs in the prime spot of the kitchen at The Modern. Front row, first class seating.

OTHER RECS THIS WEEK

EAT: Go to The Modern. It sounds obvious, but it still needs to be said. Then go get a burger and fries at Shake Shack after. Call it dessert. Yes, the caviar hot dog is incredible, at The Modern, but what really won me over was the steak tartare with the potatoes that come with it. Just get it.

OUTFIT: a two-piece set from Sézane. Pants + Shirt

REC: I just started reading I Regret Almost Everything by Keith McNally, and I am honestly confused how it took me this long to pick it up. If you have already read it, you are ahead of me. If you have not, go buy it and start.

UNTIL NEXT TIME

Tom and Marybeth reminded me that two people can build completely different things and still be building toward the same life. That a tasting menu and a burger are more similar than they are different. That the most creative partnerships don’t always look like collaboration from the outside — sometimes they just look like two people who take each other’s work seriously.

It was such a pleasure chatting and getting to know both Tom and Marybeth. They are such hard workers that love what they do and it shows. Thank you to both of them for coming on Campers and being my first Duo!

The full episode is live now. Watch here.

SOUND BITES

March playlist is coming next week. It is my birthday month, so this one will be a little more sentimental and probably twice as long. ❤️

Thanks for pulling up a seat.

xx,

Gina

Eden Grinshpan and I were essentially set up on a platonic blind date by our managers. Apparently, we share “similar energy.”

I’ll say this: if I’m even being mentioned in the same sentence as her, I’ve already won.

Eden is pure magic. She has a real pulse on life, high energy, is deeply present, and genuinely curious. She cares about people. She really cares about food. And you feel both immediately.

She’s been in the spotlight for a while now, and it’s the good kind! The kind you earn. It’s so deserved. She’s an incredible chef, Host of Top Chef CA, and author of TAHINI BABY & EATING OUT LOUD. What an honor to call her a friend, to collaborate with her, and to look up to her in this wild, ever-shifting food world.

She’s a mom of two girls, a wife, and a new dog mom! Her plate is full. Literally and figuratively. And somehow she still shows up with generosity and spark. You can watch and follow along on Instagram, and you can read her newsletter on Substack.

Burnt Bits is about the small, revealing messes that make someone human. With Eden, it’s the constant experimenting. The never-ending spice collection. And a dirty vodka martini at the end of a long day.

My Q&A with Eden:

Q: One ingredient you can’t quit, even if it doesn’t “go” with everything?

Well this one feels obvious. Tahini is an ingredient I reach for over and over again. I do feel like I can make it work with so many dishes and ingredients and many would be surprised by how versatile it is. I keep a huge batch of garlicky tahini in the fridge and throw it on everything. I love it so much that i named my second book after it TAHINI BABY.

Q: Last thing you ate standing up in your kitchen?

My daughter’s leftover breakfast. A fried egg with leftover avo toast. I made it my own and add in harissa and cilantro.

Q: The mess you’ll never fully get rid of?

My giant spice collection. I haven’t organized it in a long time. It just feels overwhelming to me since I have been adding on and collecting for a long time. I also buy a lot in bulk so you can only imagine.

Q: Comfort TV after the kids go to sleep?

Grey’s Anatomy (watching it for the first time. Can’t get over how many seasons there are) or Mad Men. I can watch it over and over again. Love it

Q: One thing you wish people would stop pretending they like?

Like they know it all. It’s just not possible. I believe you can know a lot, but I always want to be open-minded and ready to learn, and I wish more people would be like that. Open.

Q: Most chaotic thing in your fridge right now?

My cheese drawer. It feels like every cheese has one bite left to go. I just have to finish them all and clear it out

Q: A “burnt end” of life you secretly love (the imperfect thing that’s perfect to you)?

The way I cook forsure. I am not about perfection in the kitchen. If anything I try to encourage cooking my recipes without it having to be perfect. My food is not about skill, it’s more about flavor combinations, fun sauces, dips and simple techniques to take your everyday food to the next level. Just going for it in the kitchen and not having to be perfect is what my brand is all about.

Q: One thing that drastically changed after having kids.

Everything. I feel like I am a spontaneous person, and I love to travel and go out. After having kids, that really changed.

I do have to say, though, that it has been much easier lately to get around with the kids. They are 8 and 4 now, and we are out of diaper/stroller and nap phase, so we have been traveling much more, and it has been a blast.

Q: A moment where the plan completely fell apart — on the stove or in life?

This is a regular occurrence for me. I have big ideas that fall apart all the time. I do learn a lot from them, though, and end up creating new ideas that work better. You have to fail to succeed.

Q: Do you ever revisit “wrong” moments like leftovers, just to see if they taste different now?

Totally. Creating recipes and developing is all about trying new things and experimenting. It takes me a lot of tries to get things the way I want them and I have to always taste and try at all stages to get it perfect.

Q: The most ordinary object in your kitchen that holds something bigger?

I think all the pottery in my kitchen. I love collecting pottery from all over. My salad bowls are some of my fave and I reach for them over and over again. What makes them special are the stories and travel behind them and the artists that made them.

Q: The real drink in your hand after a hard day?

Dirty vodka martini

Q: One mundane task you secretly treasure?

Washing my face. I love how fresh I feel in the morning and at night after I wash my face.

Q: Your happy place after a long, productive day?

Bed with my husband. On a regular day, I love climbing into my bed with Ido and watching our shows or a movie together.

I'm so grateful to Eden for letting us step into her world. To know her is to love her.

You can read more of her thoughtful writing [here] and catch her everyday thoughts, recipes, life, and more [here].

If you’ve got someone in mind for Burnt Bits, or just a question you’ve always wanted to sneak into the mix…reply and let me know. I love hearing what you’re curious about.

Talk to you soon <3

Gina

Being around JJ felt less like filming an episode and more like stepping into someone else’s rhythm. I found myself cooking differently, moving more deliberately, slowing down without trying to. And, actually washing my rice and tasting the difference.

His food carries that same feeling. It’s generous without being loud. Familiar without being basic. You don’t eat it and think wow, this is clever. You think this makes sense.

JJ understands what food is actually supposed to do. Hold people. Feed them. Offer something steady in a world that keeps asking for more spectacle, more speed, more performance.

Being around him was grounding. A reminder that not everything meaningful needs to announce itself.

I could have sat and chatted with JJ for another two hours. His story is rich in taking chances and venturing into adventure.

ABOUT OUR GUEST

Who is he: JJ Johnson
What he does: Chef, restaurateur, author, founder of FieldTrip
Where to find him: @chefjj

JJ Johnson has built his career around a simple but loaded question: who is food actually for?

A James Beard Award winning chef and the author of Between Harlem and Heaven and The Simple Art of Rice, JJ founded FieldTrip around an ingredient that’s often overlooked because it’s everywhere. Across the African diaspora, rice isn’t a trend, it’s sustenance, memory, survival, daily life. He didn’t center it for novelty. He centered it because it matters.

His cooking pulls from Caribbean, African, Southern, and Harlem rooted traditions, but it’s never about fusion for the sake of it. It’s about clarity and accessibility. Food that feels familiar, thoughtful, and intentional. FieldTrip isn’t just a restaurant, it’s a framework built around nourishment, equity, and playing the long game.

JJ doesn’t separate food from the systems around it. He talks openly about labor, cost, access, and sustainability, and he builds with those realities in mind. The work isn’t flashy. It’s durable. And that’s the point.

WHAT’S ON THE PASS

A warm, comforting yet punchy Caribbean chicken and coconut rice with peas and toasted coconut flakes. This was a dish meant to be shared.

I wanted to cook something that reflected how JJ approaches food: nothing performative, nothing over-explained. Just flavors that make sense together. Food that shows up for you.

I based my recipe from David Tanis’s No-Fuss Jerk Chicken recipe. Absolutely BOMB.

THE CONVERSATION

The thing that really stuck with me was JJ’s yes mentality, especially at work.

He didn’t jump ahead or skip steps. He worked. A lot. Took job after job, kept his head down, moved up slowly, and said yes to opportunities as they came. Not every one of them was shiny or perfectly timed, but saying yes is how his career actually got built.

He talked about saying yes, almost blindly, to a cooking gig in Ghana with Alexander Smalls. That yes led to The Cecil. One opportunity turned into something much bigger, but only because he showed up and did the work.

It was a good reminder that many careers aren’t mapped out. They’re built by consistency, trust, and being willing to say yes when something’s in front of you.

RICE AS RESPONSIBILITY

Rice sits at the center of JJ’s work, but it’s never just rice. It’s a connective thread across cultures that were never meant to be siloed. It’s everyday food, and that’s exactly the point.

By centering something so familiar, JJ forces harder conversations; about sourcing, cost, scale, and access. Rice could have been a gimmick. JJ made it a responsibility.

SIDE PLATE

Really excited about this one. We’re officially collaborating with Farm to People, and all of the ingredients I cook with and use on Campers are coming from them, all local, all seasonal.

I’ve been using Farm to People for years for my own groceries. Weekly staples like milk, eggs, bread, garlic, plus a second box with a Cook’s Box and the Seasonal Veg Box. That green box showing up in the evening genuinely makes my day.

Since having Mars, grocery shopping feels way harder and way more time consuming than it used to. I love knowing the quality is there and that I’m getting a mix of in season gems without overthinking it.

If you’ve been curious, use code CAMPERS25 for $25 off your first farm box

OTHER RECS THIS WEEK

Snack: We has the honor and pleasure of stopping by Feildtrip in Rockefeller Center. We tried everything, quite literally. And everything was one thing better than the next. The standouts for me were hot honey plantains, Crispy Fish bowl, and the Oxtail Egg roll!

Outfit from the Episode:

Top: Sezane

Wrap Necklace: Sezane :)

Jeans: Old school Zara! I think i bought these when i was 23

One More Note: I’m having a sweet tooth moment and bought myself a bag of Behave gummies. Well, I haven’t stopped buying them. Just ordered a few more bags from Amazon. I’ll let you do with that info as you choose.

UNTIL NEXT TIME

JJ reminded me that food doesn’t have to be important to be meaningful. It doesn’t need to trend to matter.

When you cook with intention and feed people with care, you’re doing more than making a meal. You’re building trust. You’re offering something steady in a loud world.

The full episode is live now. Watch here.

SOUND BITES

FEBRUARY PLAYLIST - a romantic one

Thanks for pulling up a seat.

xx,
Gina

Then there’s the consumerism of it all. Marked up flowers. Panic booked prix fixe menus. Spending a hundred plus dollars on a mediocre steak because February 14th has become a hostage situation. None of that feels romantic to me. It feels forced. Love shouldn’t be monetary. It shouldn’t be a one night performance. It’s not twelve obligatory gestures wrapped in red cellophane.

That said, I don’t think Valentine’s Day has to be a hard no. I just think it needs to be reclaimed. One of my favorite Valentine’s Days ever was popping open a perfectly chilled Beaujolais, chatting until it turned into full-blown laughter, disappearing into the bedroom for an hour, then ordering a whole pie from Best Pizza and putting on a movie. No outfits. No reservations. No overpriced steak. Just being together at home.

Last year was my first Valentine’s Day as a mom, and I was basically in a blackout state. I had Mars on February 6, so I was eight days into motherhood and sitting on a donut to pee. Lingerie, along with any plan that required standing upright for an extended period, was off the table. Everything about love looks different now. Carving out space as a couple feels more important than ever. Whether that’s a babysitter and time alone upstairs or stealing quiet moments together around bedtime, it all counts.

So this issue of The Fifth Course is about Valentine’s Day, but doing it your way. Removing the pressure. Shrinking the spectacle. Choosing time together over a curated, cellophane-wrapped tradition. Just you and your boo thang, however that looks right now.

MEAL IN (AND OUT, FOR THIS ONE)

A Valentine’s Day meal that doesn’t feel like restaurant cosplay. Something indulgent but low-pressure. Something you can cook together, or something one person cooks for the other. No stress. No perfection. No twelve-step plating situation.

Valentine’s Day Recipe: Shrimp risotto +Affogato

Valentines out (where i would go): Soup dumplings, Thai, Pizza

WHAT’S ON THE PASS

Beyond my intrusive, deeply non Valentine’s Day loving thoughts, the energy I’m bringing to February 14 this year is honest love. I’m treating it as permission. Permission to go out or stay in, pour a drink, connect, cook, slow down, and yes, without question, lock in the babysitter. These are my Valentine’s Day modes, this year and every year.

The Cozy Valentine
Order in without guilt. Put on a movie you already love or finally press play on the one that’s been haunting your list. Preorder snacks, claim the couch, light the candles. Blankets on. Phones off. Do not move.

The Sexy Valentine (with food)
Stay home. Open a bottle of wine or say fuck it and shake martinis. Music on, lights low, let the house smell good. One intentional, intimate moment. Not a production.
Food sets the tone here. Either lean cozy with a creamy shrimp risotto or turn the heat up, shuck some oysters, and keep the boozy sips coming.

The Play Valentine
Game night energy. Cards, a board game, or something a little dumb in the best way. I’ve been dying to do one of those paint each other dates and this might finally be the year. Snacks, wine, laughter, and two truly terrible paintings you’ll never throw away.

The Nostalgia Valentine
Recreate your first date. Just do it. Relive the nerves, the goggly eyes, the who texts who first energy. Talk about the beginning, the tiny moments, and remember how it all started.

SOUND BITES

FEB PLAYLIST - She’s hot, sexy, and playful

CLOSING NOTE

Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to look like anything. It doesn’t need roses or reservations. You get to decide what it means.

Whether it’s hours spent tangled up, a game night, ordering in, cooking breakfast, fully committing to the couch, or doing absolutely nothing at all, the only real requirement is choosing time together.

Here’s to love that’s consistent, thoughtful, and real. To choose each other in ways that actually fit your life, not the version sold to you once a year.

xx
Gina

I’ve been sick like seemingly everyone else on the East Coast. The kind of sick that traps you in bed long enough to read far too many Substacks and rethink your entire life. I’m hopeful tomorrow is the day I reenter the world.

While I was down, I read a lot about intention, goal setting, routines, and organization. I took notes. I made lists. And then I realized something important: that category of the internet is already full. We’re covered. If I have goals to map out, they can live quietly in my notes until next year.

Yet, I feel the need to throw in my two cents on the whole “new year, new goal” conversation. I want to contribute something that I don’t see being discussed (or acknowledged that often.)

It’s the thing that almost made the list and then didn’t. The thing that might make you uncomfortable, or make you save this to read alone, or make you say thank God, or make you roll your eyes and think please stop.

That topic is sex and romance - specifically post-partum.

To talk about this honestly, I have to be honest about myself (and with myself.) Post baby, I’ve lost my groove. More than that, I’ve lost my desire. Even writing that makes me uncomfortable because I love sex. And I love my husband. What makes it worse, and more complicated, is that this feeling is fairly one-sided, and I’m on that side.

This was not an overnight change. It happened slowly over the last two years, which also happens to be exactly how old our daughter is. I had a fairly rough birth, leaving me with months of painful, slow, physical and emotional recovery. Somewhere within that period, fear crept in. Fear of creating more pain, fear that “things” don’t work anymore, maybe fear of what my lady garden looked like post birth…possibly even fear that I forgot what to do, how to do it, and how to enjoy myself. So distance crept in. Then the quiet absence of desire.

It’s not that we never have sex. We do. But by my standards and by my husband’s, it’s not enough. The reality is familiar: we have a kid, we both most of the time work from home in comfortable clothes, we talk about our child’s bowel movements with alarming frequency, and we’ve stopped prioritizing dates and nights that make us feel like adults instead of distant lovers running a one-child daycare. Life shifted. And we didn’t quite shift with it.

Wanting sex, especially as a woman, isn’t just about the physical act. It’s mental. Emotional. Energetic. It’s about how you move through your day and how much space you give yourself to feel like a person instead of a role. Men, we love you, but you’re built differently. Desire can be immediate. Action can follow. For many women, it’s layered. And personal. And deeply influenced by everything else.

So alongside any small or ambitious personal goals I might have for 2026, this is the one that matters most to me. I want to put more intention, thought, and effort into my sex life, my romantic life, and my dating life (yes, I want to date my husband again.)

There’s no one size fits all answer here. I know that.

What I do know is that my body works. I’m not broken. I just need to work on it. And I’m going to be open about what that looks like for me, step by step, right here.

I’m already uncomfortable writing this, which probably means I’m in the right place. I’ve kept a quiet list for years of things I’ve been curious about but never tried. Not because I didn’t want to, but because of fear, overthinking, or simply life getting in the way. That list includes pole dancing, tantra, breathwork, couples therapy, GHB, pelvic floor rehabilitation classes, and yes, even scheduling sex (we tried, but probably worth another shot). The list goes on.

This will take time, patience, love, and a willingness to be uncomfortable. So once a month, I’m going to write a sex letter to you. I’ll share what I try, what we learn, what helps, what doesn’t, and what feels awkward or surprisingly healing along the way. But this is not a one-man show. Yes, I will be writing, but please join in. Leave comments if you’ve been here, what you’ve struggled with, what you love/hate. I might do a few interviews to add in another perspective, so lots more to come <3

And if I disappear for more than a month, just assume something worked. Assume we’re busy. Assume we found our way back to those early days, where you sneak it in whenever you can.

xx

Gina

Wow, 2025.You were hefty. You moved fast, yet somehow felt endless.You were generous. And you were demanding. You gave, and then you asked for more.This was the kind of change I always said I wanted.It just all arrived at once.

It was a year of overwhelm and growth living side by side. Some days holding hands. Some days fighting each other.This year taught me so much. Maybe too much..? So much of it feels blurry yet I drank the least I’ve ever drank in my life.

It started with fire.

Our second favorite city was burning, and I could not sit still in a warm, safe home pretending everything was fine. So I didn’t!  I followed the pull to do something, anything, that felt bigger than me. I dove headfirst into an event I co produced with my dear friend Luke Haverty.

And what an event it was.

600 people showed up.

122 volunteers.

Full Music lineup.

A 26 person bake sale.

Bouquet making.

A 5K run.

Thousands of dollars raised.

I still do not fully have words for how New York showed up. It reminded me that when this city decides to care, its a force.

That event cracked something open in me. I swear an internal switch flipped, and then someone taped it down so it could not turn off.

The momentum stayed all winter. Before the temperature ever hit 50 degrees, I had already done 12 more events. Birthdays. Baby showers. Brand activations. Collaborations. Grazing tables that blurred into long nights and early mornings.

It was exhausting. It was electric. It was clarifying. It was hard to be a mom. Sleep became a foreign concept. Rest felt theoretical!

Around that same time, something else quietly became real.

Campers.

What started as an internal itch, a desire to sit with food people and really TALK, turned into a five person team before I fully understood what I had said yes to. On March 22, we filmed our first episode. I walked onto that set pretending I knew what I was doing.

From the outside, it might look like confidence. Like experience. Like I had a plan.

I did not. I do not.

I studied other interviews for weeks, trying to learn the craft. And still, that first one was a beautiful raw dog. No safety net. No polish. Just presence. And somehow, that felt right.

By the third interview, I was hooked.

But here is what does not make it into a highlight reel. If you want something to be good, it asks everything of you. Time. Planning. Follow ups. Revisions. Outreach. Emotional labor. Vulnerability. Hugs. Tears. Doubt. And a lot of lessons and learning. Campers is still a baby that I’m so deeply rooting for. Time will tell what she blooms into. 

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, support found me. I didn’t look for help, but the right help arrived anyway, right when I needed it most. My team grew in a way that felt steady, intuitive, and deeply grounding. Having someone step in who could see the big picture and hold the details changed everything. It reminded me that sometimes growth doesn’t come from pushing harder, but from allowing the right people in.

Spring came. Then summer. And the idea of balance disappeared completely.

It was not a balancing act. It was a daily practice of telling myself, I am doing the best I can. In all directions…

Mars was changing fast. Growing into herself. Forming opinions. Eating. Not sleeping. Lighting up my entire life in ways I was not prepared for. Loving her felt effortless. Being away from her did not.

And when it rains, it really does pour.

I could not keep up with everything at once. I would land an event, run the event, and cry when I got home at 11 pm, exhausted and missing my child. I would get invited to the rooms I once dreamed of being in, and then procrastinate getting dressed just to steal five more minutes with Mars.

There was no balance. There were no breaks.

Then I decided to add the NYC Marathon into the mix, on top of cooking, moming, running Frank’s House, building Campers, and trying to be a good wife, friend, and daughter.

Am I okay???

The more I get to know myself, the more I realize I might be far from it. And somehow, that is okay too.

The year did not slow down. From September to December, it got heavier. Louder. Busier.

I broke in October. 

And I broke again in November.

Breaking looks different every time. One break came as tears, a fever, and skin that reflected how fried I felt inside. Another came out sideways, as a stress fueled fight with my one and only, Garry. Neither version was pretty. But both showed me something important. I do not want to live at my breaking point.

On paper, both moments made sense. In those two+  months alone, I cooked or hosted 16 events. I sat with three Campers guests. I ran the NYC marathon. Frank’s House hosted (I managed) 29 events total. My gratitude meter is off the charts, but the human part of me reads that list and says, GIRL, NO. 

So I am thanking 2025 for showing me what I am capable of. For letting me prove to myself that yes, I can do a lot, even on very little sleep, even while pushing through. But also proving that this is simply not the way. Looking toward 2026 and beyond, I want something different. I want to build a more reasonable rhythm for myself, my family, and my career. I want to get better at what I do, not just do more. I want to fine tune. I want to say no to the things that do not serve me. I want to carry less stress, and stop passing it to my gut or face or husband. 

2025, thank you.

And if you read this all the way through, thank you! This was basically a therapy session typed out. Thank you for tuning in, for caring, for being here. And if any of this feels familiar to you, let’s connect. Company helps. I’ll cook

2026, you’re about to get a whole lotta structure.

Xx

Gina 

Every course felt intentional, alive, and deeply personal. Nothing was flashy for the sake of it—just perfect technique, confidence, and restraint.

What stayed with me was the balance. The food felt unmistakably French but never trapped by tradition. There was a quiet confidence to the entire meal, nothing demanding attention, everything earning it. Months later I still think about how I felt walking out: full yes but also grounded.

Alexia herself mirrors that energy, sharp, thoughtful, deeply self-aware. Equal parts disciplined and playful. She cooks with precision but speaks with vulnerability. And that tension between rigor and release runs through everything she does.

ABOUT OUR GUEST

Who is she: Alexia Duchêne
What she does: Chef and co-founder of Le Chêne
Where to find her: @alexiaduchene

Alexia Duchêne trained in some of the most demanding kitchens in the world, cutting her teeth early and learning quickly what excellence costs. Classical French technique shaped her foundation, but it never boxed her in. Instead, it gave her a language, one she could bend, question, and ultimately make her own.

Her food is rooted in tradition but refuses to be precious. It’s thoughtful without being fussy. Elegant without being rigid. And deeply personal. Through both her cooking and her writing, Alexia has been candid about her relationship with food, control, and the pressure to meet impossible standards, opening up conversations the industry often avoids.

Le Chêne is a reflection of that evolution. It’s not just a restaurant; it’s a declaration. A space where pleasure isn’t punished, appetite isn’t moralized, and French food is allowed to feel alive again. Alexia cooks from a place of self-knowledge now, not self-denial, and it shows on the plate.

WHAT’S ON THE PASS

Osmalieh, a traditional Lebanese cake that I absolutely failed at.
I’d never had this iconic Middle Eastern dessert before, but I was sold on the idea: two layers of crispy kataifi pastry, a creamy ashta filling, finished with orange blossom syrup.

The flavors were all there… unfortunately, the execution was not. I accidentally bought regular vermicelli noodles instead of kataifi pastry. I’m not a baker, but this was definitely a moment where I should’ve connected the dots.

So yes—I ended up serving one of the hottest chefs in NYC right now raw pasta, still waiting to hear back about her dentist bill.

THE CONVERSATION

Some favorite moments:

Filming on her 30th birthday
We happened to be filming Campers on Alexia’s 30th birthday—so naturally, we have candles, we sang, we made her very uncomfortable and like i said above, I attempted to make her a cake. Keyword: attempted. Alexia—true professional that she is—took a big bite, smiled and quietly said ‘crunchy’. No grimace. No hesitation. Just grace. And a promise to never bake for her again.

It was funny, humbling, and oddly revealing. A reminder that professionalism in the kitchen isn’t just about technique, it’s about generosity, composure, and knowing when to let someone else have their moment, even when the cake is bad.

French food, redefined
What tradition becomes when you’re brave enough to question it.
Alexia began cooking professionally at just 15, training in some of the world’s most prestigious kitchens under the industry’s elite. The “best” kitchens aren’t always gentle; they’re demanding, intense, and relentless.

She took everything she learned discipline, technique, resilience and reimagined it in New York. At her restaurant, tradition isn’t abandoned, it’s refined. Classic French foundations meet a clean, modern, unmistakably NYC edge creating something familiar, fearless, and entirely her own.

This brings us to how Alexia runs her kitchen.
Turnover is a reality in restaurant kitchens staff comes and goes, often fast. When Alexia was building Le Chêne, that was her biggest challenge. Today, she’s built something rare: a sous chef she fully trusts and a tight, committed team around her.

And here’s the part that sets her apart. There are no written recipes. No step-by-step manuals. Alexia explains the dish, demonstrates it once, and expects the team to execute. They don’t follow instructions, they understand intent.

She lives on the pass, watching everything, adjusting in real time, holding every plate to her standard. It’s bold. It’s demanding. And it’s incredibly impressive.

SIDE PLATE

What stayed with me most after this episode was Alexia’s refusal to fail.
From the age of 15, she knew exactly what she wanted and never looked back. At just 30 years old, she’s already accomplished more than most do in a lifetime and she’s fully aware that this is only the beginning.

I asked her about some of the headlines written about her, including “Alexia Duchêne is redefining modern French cooking.” She smiled and said it’s flattering, but she doesn’t let it get to her head. For her, the focus stays the same: keep pushing forward, keep evolving, and keep creating the best food she possibly can.

That mindset is what truly defines her.

She doesn’t cook to impress; she cooks to express. There’s a confidence in that, not the loud kind, but the earned kind. The kind that comes from knowing your edges, honoring your appetite, and trusting that restraint and indulgence can coexist.

OTHER RECS THIS WEEK

Snack:
I’ve been fully in my cozy era on days off. A friend just introduced me to M’hamsa couscous, and I haven’t stopped buying it since. The bite is perfect, the flavor is deep, and it actually eats like something—not an afterthought.

It’s definitely pricier for couscous, but honestly? Worth every bite.

Outfit from the Episode:
Green Top - Thrift find

Black Leather Skirt - Yasmine Skirt by Sezane

UNTIL NEXT TIME

Alexia reminded me that food is never just food. It’s memory, control, freedom, pleasure, identity—all wrapped up together. And when you actually give yourself permission to eat, cook, and live honestly, something shifts.

The food tastes better. The conversations get real. And the table stops being a performance and starts feeling like the truth.

The full episode is live now! Watch here.

SOUND BITES

DECEMBER PLAYLIST

Thanks for pulling up a seat.

xx,
Gina

My fridge is packed, but absolutely nothing inside sounds good. My brain is fried, but takeout feels like admitting defeat. I’m tired of cooking, tired of eating, tired of even thinking about both.

Welcome to the in-between.

That blurry little pocket of time where the energy is… off. Everyone’s exhausted. Somehow, there are three events in one night. No one knows what day it is. You’re panic-ordering Christmas gifts at midnight like it’s a sport. And all you and your body want is something healthy, grounding, and gentle — nothing with twelve sticks of butter or a roasting pan the size of your torso — but you also refuse to eat anything that tastes like a compromise.

Here’s the thing: the in-between deserves its own kind of cooking.

Food that’s soft, simple, nourishing. Food that asks very, very little of you. Food you can throw together half-asleep, wearing the same sweater you’ve had on for four days, using whatever is already living in your kitchen. Food that plays nicely with substitutions, swaps, whatever you’ve got.

So this issue of The Fifth Course is dedicated to In-Between Meals — the dishes I reach for when I need to feel human again, when I need a reset. When I’m craving clean, easy flavors that are soothing but not boring, delicious but not heavy, quick but not rushed. And meals you plop in a bowl and take to the couch.

Because sometimes the most luxurious thing in the world is a meal that’s simple but thoughtful. Warm. Bright. Grounding. A meal that feels like a deep breath…the kind you only take once the guests have left, and the dishwasher starts humming.

So here they are: the three meals keeping me upright during the most tired, overstimulated, over-scheduled, under-nourished weeks of the year.

MEAL IN — The In-Between Meals

Meal 1: Honey Chicken with Citrus and Apricot

I love chicken. Always have. And yes, a whole bird looks intimidating, but here’s the truth: it’s ridiculously easy and the leftovers are elite. This dish is in constant rotation in my kitchen. I mix and match whatever’s lying around and it never misses.

recipe

Meal 2: Salmon with Roast Peppers, Tomatoes, and Olives

Fully aware that tomatoes are out of season. Also, I am fully aware my internal battery is at a steady low this month. Pick your battles, right? We’re not doing a tomato salad — we’re roasting them. One tray, big flavor, zero stress.

recipe

(not my photo….But looks something like this. These are meals I barely photograph)

Meal 3: Cheesy Spinach Lemon Pasta

It’s quick. It’s easy. It’s basically adult mac and cheese with a green.

recipe

MEAL OUT

I squeezed in one restaurant moment this in-between season… reluctantly, but I did it. And honestly? It revived me. Cecchi’s was the old-school New York hug I’ve been craving. Michael is the host with the most — he works the room, drops a story, and suddenly you feel like family.

The meal was simple, cozy, exactly what I wanted.

My order: Jumbo Shrimp, Not a Wedge, San Gennaro in a Blanket, Onion Rings, Chicken A La King, Pork Chop

HIGH CHAIR TALK

Mars is deep in her own in-between era… mainly because of me (sorry, kiddo). But honestly? I think it’s been a happy accident. She’s eating better than ever.

I used to cook her a perfectly curated toddler lunch every single day — thoughtful, balanced, cute enough to photograph. But this season? I’ve been serving her what I’m eating, or she’s been eating what I make for myself. And she’s thriving. It’s also forced me to sit down and eat lunch with her instead of grazing over the sink like a feral chef. A small, unexpected gift.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love crafting her little art-director plates. That will always be my love language.

The other day I was craving beef, so I made us burger patties with cheese, juicy and straightforward. She ate every crumb. Then yesterday she asked for tuna (my girl!). I didn’t have any, but I did have Fishwife sardines… which can be hit or miss for her. So I disguised them, turned them into these crispy baked croquettes, and we both loved them.

Our lunches have become this funny little mirror — what she eats, I eat; what I crave, she joins in on. It’s messy, imperfect, and honestly the sweetest rhythm we’ve found in a while

SIDE PLATE

A luxe pleasure: A magical head and face massage at Head in the Clouds!!! It’s in Williamsburg, and it’s heavenly.

A Simple pleasure: Making olive oil muffins just because — and quietly eating one every few hours like it’s my part-time job

A quick fix: Gold Foil Under-Eye Patches. Your sleepless, puffy eyes will thank you. Really, any eye patches with caffeine in them.

A disappointment: Coffee prices… a much bigger conversation, and definitely not a new one. I usually make mine at home, but the last few weeks I’ve been very on-the-go. And honestly? I’m flabbergasted. I’m a simple coffee girl — hot coffee, non-dairy milk, a little sugar — and somehow we’re at $6+? Meanwhile, my entire bag of beans was $15. I’m confused. It really hits you when it becomes a daily or even weekly purchase. Just… wow.

A date night highlight: A very booooooozy night at Bemelmans Bar.

A good idea: A breakfast burrito morning for two: order four different types from two places and host a little taste test at home :) Best Damn Burrito won.

SOUND BITES

Instead of a playlist, I’m sharing my recap of the year — basically my whole year told through song.

CLOSING NOTE

We’re almost to the end of the year, which feels impossible. I hope this in-between time gives you a moment to breathe — to eat something simple and good, to rest without guilt, to take a pause even if it’s only five minutes.

Here’s to soft meals, light cooking, and kinder schedules.

xx
Gina

Meeting Joshua in person for Campers felt like meeting the architect behind so many meals that have shaped my cooking. He arrived with exactly the energy you’d expect from someone who treats the seasons as collaborators: grounded, curious, wonderfully wacky, fully tuned in. He balances chaos and intention with this effortless ease. He talks about produce the way most people talk about family.

Our usual routine, where I cook for the guest, didn’t stand a chance. Joshua and I ended up cooking a stunning pomodoro together. Well, he cooked and I learned…while being lovingly scolded. Apparently I should be weighing and timing my pasta. He’s not wrong, but my Italian grandmother taught me to feeeeeeel when the pasta is done. And honestly? As I type that out, I think Joshua might have a point.

ABOUT OUR GUEST

Who is he: Joshua McFadden
What he does: Chef, farmer, and bestselling author of Six Seasons: A New Way With Vegetables, Grains for Every Seasons, Six Seasons of Pasta
Where to find him: @jj__mc

Joshua’s story starts long before Six Seasons found its way onto kitchen tables from Brooklyn to Portland to Paris. He trained in some of the country’s best kitchens, absorbing technique, discipline, and a deep respect for craft. But everything shifted when he discovered what would ultimately define his career: the quiet magic of vegetables.

At some point, and he talks about this beautifully, the farm became just as important as the kitchen. He started working the land, studying seasonality, and building relationships with the people who coax flavor from the soil. That farmer–chef duality is what sets him apart. He’s not just cooking with vegetables; he’s in conversation with them. Today, he even owns his own farm in Oregon. (waiting for an invite…..)

Six Seasons didn’t just become a beloved cookbook. It became a mindset. It changed the way home cooks shop, taste, and build a plate. Since then, Joshua has opened restaurants, collaborated closely with growers, and continued crafting dishes rooted in restraint and clarity. At his core, he’s still doing what he does best: sourcing incredible ingredients, treating them with respect, and cooking the hell out of them.

WHAT’S ON THE PASS

Pickled Cantaloupe and Pomodoro
Joshua is a huge fan of pickled anything. His all-time favorite? Pickled cantaloupe. I had never even heard of it. So, of course, I had to play around and surprise him with a jar of freshly pickled melon. And wow — what a flavor combo. I paired it with prosciutto, and it was perfection.

You should absolutely try it at home. Here’s the recipe I used.

The pomodoro we made together was quite literally the best pomodoro i’ve ever made. We cooked it step by step from his cookbook, The Six Seasons of Pasta

THE CONVERSATION

Some favorite moments:

The great debate X2: There were not one but two debates on this episode. Joshua and I had opposite answers, so I want to know your thoughts! Please leave a comment below.

1. Would you put lemon in your pomodoro sauce?

2. Are you a Cool Ranch or a Nacho Cheese?

Joshua allowed curiosity to lead the way. Joshua is an incredibly impressive chef and human, but what moved me most was his willingness to bet on himself. At the peak of a fast-rising chef career, he realized he needed something more grounded. So he stepped off the track completely and found clarity on a farm in Maine.

That pivot changed everything. It’s where he first understood the idea of six seasons, fell in love with pulling kale straight from the earth, and eventually wrote Six Seasons, a James Beard Award winner. He went on to write two more books rooted in that same seasonal philosophy. Joshua is so much more than a chef. He’s someone who follows instinct, honors the land, and lets curiosity lead the way.

Joshua reminds us to cook with the seasons — to stop reaching for out-of-season ingredients just because we’re used to them or craving them. If you love a Christmas asparagus recipe, try the same method with what is in season instead, like squash or Brussels sprouts.

A favorite personal detail. Joshua’s go-to snack is a BLT with peanut butter.

SIDE PLATE

What really stayed with me from this episode was knowing when to grind and when to listen to that part of you that needs change. Life moves fast, and it’s so easy to keep going just because that’s what everyone else is doing. But at the end of the day, you’re responsible for you. If something feels off, you’re the only one who can shift it.

Joshua picking up and leaving New York stuck with me. That took guts and a level of confidence most people never tap into. He let himself pivot, opened a completely foreign door, and had no idea where it would lead. That leap changed everything. His time on the farm in Maine was so transformative that he recently bought his own 50-acre farm, which he’s now building out.

It’s a reminder that trusting yourself can take you places you never planned, but always needed.

OTHER RECS THIS WEEK

Snack: I’ve been on a major salami kick lately. It started when I was sourcing meat and cheese for a grazing board a couple of weeks ago. My first stop is always Murray’s. I sampled a bunch and fell hard for the Red Bear Tipsy Cow Beef Brandy Salami. It’s a little younger, a little twistier, and absolutely delicious.

Outfit from the Episode: Sezane butter yellow skirt. My T-shirt is an oldie <3

UNTIL NEXT TIME

Joshua reminded me that creativity doesn’t always hit like lightning. Most of the time it grows quietly, the way a seed pushes through the soil — slow, patient, a little wacky, totally true to its own rhythm. His food tastes like that. It tastes like someone who’s really listening to the land, to the seasons, to what’s happening right in front of him.

There’s something grounding about that kind of cooking. It makes you want to slow down, pay attention, and let ideas take their time.

Joshua was a joy and a pleasure with contagious laughter.

The full episode is live now. Watch here

SOUND BITES

NOVEMBER PLAYLIST

Thanks for pulling up a seat.

xx,
Gina

There’s something strange and beautiful about moving for hours and then stopping. like you’ve been dropped back into a slower version of the world. Everything after feels softer, quieter, earned. I’ve been doing my best to honor that pace this week: sleeping in, eating too many bagels, calling my mom to tell her I did it. There’s a sweetness in that slowing down that reminds me of cooking — how effort, heat, and time somehow collapse into something simple and good.

The day after the race, I could barely walk, my knee ached, and my nausea was still very present, but I couldn’t stop smiling. And somewhere between the ice bath, inferred blanket and the Advil, I know I said it out loud: I’d do that again.

Meal In

This week, I’ve been cooking and ordering like someone learning how to walk again. Slow, soft steps. Mostly gentle food: soups, sheet pan meals, and things that hum quietly on the stove all afternoon. My favorite has been a one-pan chicken with apricots. RECIPE

And when I haven’t been cooking, I’ve been ordering from Springbone, mixing their broth and sides to make my own little soup.

My go-to order: New Roots broth, liquid gold, a side of chicken thighs, two sides of rice, and cabbage slaw.

When I eat like this, it doesn’t feel like I’m just feeding myself. It feels like finding my way back home in my body. After the marathon, my gut and my body have been craving that kind of gentle, medicinal love.

Meal Out

This week was a bit of a juggle between work, pre-race jitters, and actually taking care of myself. I found myself leaning into bigger lunches on the go instead of long dinners out. Two spots I grabbed a seat at were Tacombi and Chloe, both in the West Village.

Tacombi order: chips and guac, cheese quesadilla, El Pastor x2
Chloe order: kale caesar and sweet potato fries

One quick but perfect neighborhood dinner was at Entre Nous. I had Braised Pork Toast with Marinated peppers and Chanterelle Mushrooms with vinegar and onion.

High Chair Talk

Healthy fried rice and baked tuna bites on repeat.

Mars has officially entered her picky phase — what she eats, where she eats, when she eats… all of it comes with an opinion. I’m sure it’s normal (right?), but some days it feels like food gymnastics. One minute she loves something, the next she won’t even look at it.

Two consistent winners lately: these easy baked tuna + corn bites and a simple healthy fried rice. Bonus — they’re just as good for me to snack on or finish off when she’s done.

Food for Thought

Running a marathon taught me something unexpected about appetite. You train for months for one single day, push yourself to the edge, and when it’s over, you don’t crave more movement, you crave stillness. Not to stop, but to move in a different way.

I’m someone who doesn’t always know how to sit still. I’m quick to jump into the next thing (or three). But after the marathon, my body gave me no choice. For 48 hours, I could barely move—and instead of fighting it, I let myself lean in. I rested. I let the quiet land.

In that slower space, I began thinking about food — the way I cook, the way I eat, and the way I gather people around a table. So much of life right now is built around speed: content, deadlines, scrolls, hustle. But the good stuff? The moments that actually taste like something? Those only happen when you slow down long enough to notice them.

More of that. In the new year, and always

Side Plate

A few things I’ve been loving lately:

• Chestnuts — tis the season! Roast and smother with herb butter.

• New York fall markets — Union Square on a Wednesday morning right now is pure theater: persimmons, quinces, people in puffer coats tasting apples like wine. My camera roll can’t take it much longer

• Nobody Wants This (comfort TV in its truest form) & season three just got approved…

Side Plate x2

I’m so excited to share that I’m co-hosting a beautiful dinner at Frank’s House — Feast with Friends: Gather — on November 13th.

It’s a special evening in collaboration with Philo Studios

This dinner is rooted in everything I’ve been feeling lately — endurance, gratitude, and the joy of slowing down to gather around a shared table. We’ll be cooking, talking, laughing, and (almost certainly) eating too many chestnuts.

If you’ve been meaning to visit Frank’s House or want to end your fall with something warm and communal, this is the night to do it. Come say hi, come hungry, and come ready to feast.

🎟️ Get tickets here.

Highlighting our sponsors:

CHANDON, Row 7, Graza, Bright Farms, The Great Chestnut Experiment, One Love Community Fridge

Sound Bites: November Playlist <3

That’s it for now <3

xx

Gina

By the third course, I had to know who was behind the magic. When our server pointed to the open kitchen and said, “That’s Orianne,” I did a double take — a beautiful, young woman commanding the line with total calm. I immediately asked to meet her.

Cooking for another chef can be nerve-wracking, but with Orianne I didn’t flinch, even when I totally flopped my first attempt at caramel… I asked her to pick a dish that felt special, like home. She chose a Tarte Tatin, equal parts delicate and bold, and paired it with coffee and pistachio milk (a woman after my own heart).

What stayed with me wasn’t just her food, but her energy. She leads with quiet confidence, power without volume, precision without pretense. Orianne is as generous in spirit as she is disciplined in craft.

ABOUT OUR GUEST

Who is she: Orianne Shapira
What does she do: Executive Chef at Shmoné and Shmoné Wine, NYC
Where to find her: @orianne_shapira | Shmoné NYC

Orianne’s story starts at home, cooking beside her dad. They weren’t just throwing together weeknight dinners. His specialties? Crab bisque, pâté, and Tarte Tatin. And my favorite detail, she was flambéeing bananas at eight years old. There was always a love for food.

After finishing her military service, she found herself torn between two worlds: design and food. She chose pastry school (which, at first, I didn’t totally get), but it made perfect sense once she explained it — the structure of design meets the creativity of cooking. It worked. Her first job was at The ShowRoom Bakehouse in Tel Aviv, where she quickly went from baker to running the place.

In 2019, she packed her bags and moved to New York to study culinary management at ICE. She thought pastry would be her path, until an interview at HaSalon changed everything. When they asked if she knew how to hold a knife, she said yes, and the rest unfolded naturally.

She started on the line at HaSalon, took a pause during COVID, then returned as sous chef when it reopened. Within two years, she was running the kitchen as Executive Chef. Now, at just 28, she’s holding a Michelin star at Shmoné, still smiling through the chaos, leading her team with the same calm confidence that got her there in the first place.

WHAT’S ON THE PASS

Tarte Tatin + cold brew with pistachio milk

THE CONVERSATION

Some favorite moments:

Saying yes to the knife. Orianne was a pastry girl through and through. But when she moved to New York and couldn’t find a pastry job, she started asking around—Eyal was her number-one text. One thing led to another, and she got connected to a chef who asked, “Do you know how to hold a knife? Want to work in the kitchen?” She said yes, and just like that, her food journey began.

Fashion + design love so she turned to pasty. This still blows my mind. When Orianne was younger, she had no idea what she wanted to study. She loved fashion and design—especially package design. Her mom, knowing both those passions, said, “Maybe you’ll love pastry.” And she agreed!

I mean… I kind of get it? But also, absolutely not. I am not a pastry girl. I don’t love to measure when cooking. But when she explained that pastry felt like package design—structured, precise, and creative it made sense. What do you guys think? Does pastry feel like design to you?

Cooking with dad. Some of Orianne’s sweetest memories are of cooking with her dad when she was little and not just “helping” cooking. She was flambéing at eight years old. I love her dad for that. As a mom, I totally get it!I can already picture Mars standing beside me, helping prep and stir. Real-world moments like that teach kids so much more than we realize.

Death row meal. This made me smile so big! Orianne’s last meal would be eggplant parmesan made by her mother and onion soup made by her father <3 And for dessert, Pilsbury brownie mix.

SIDE PLATE

What stuck with me after our conversation was how Orianne treats her menu like a living, breathing thing—always shifting with the seasons and her own inspiration. I asked what dishes we could expect in the coming months, and she laughed—because she truly doesn’t know yet. She cooks based on what produce catches her eye at the market. Of course, when her favorite (eggplant) is in season, it makes its way onto the menu in all kinds of forms and flavors.

OTHER RECS THIS WEEK

Snack: Not a snack, or a guess it could be. But I made Korean short ribs last night, which are always a slam dunk and are wildly easy to make. Recipe <3

Product: a productivity product! I got a little desk timer, and it’s been helping me fly through those random one-off tasks. We’ll see if I actually stick with it — but so far, I’m loving it. Here’s the one I got.

Outfit from the episode: Red sheer skirt, Opry T-shirt, Necklace ( I exclusively shop their resale section! I’m a sucker for secondhand).

UNTIL NEXT TIME

Orianne reminded me that mastery doesn’t always have to roar. Sometimes it hums. It’s in the way a dish comes together without force, the way a kitchen breathes when everyone trusts each other.

She’s leading one of the most exciting restaurants in New York right now, but what struck me most was her steadiness. The sense that she’s right where she’s supposed to be: creating, teaching, and feeding people with intention.

The full episode is live now! Watch here

SOUND BITES

Last of the October Playlist!!!

Thanks for pulling up a seat.

xx,
Gina