Dear readers,

Thanks so much for following along with us on Substack — from today we will be bringing our Gjournals in-house to continue to share stories with you that are as thoughtful and impactful as can be — including chapters from our Venice (& New York) businesses, recipes, conversations, and more. If you're already a subscriber, no need to opt into a new list... we'll continue to deliver stories to your inbox and share on social media through our handles @gjelinarestaurant and @gjustabakery. These archives will remain active for revisiting or exploring. Thank you for your ongoing support... more to come soon.

— The Gjelina Group team

Some of our favorite Gjournals shots:

Wine is mainly made in beautiful places, but Mount Etna on the northeast corner of Sicily is simply majestic. It's a highly active volcano, Europe's biggest, that's almost constantly spouting, burping or full-on erupting lava, smoke or ash. Etna is in Sicily but it's a place all unto itself. Catania, Sicily's second city, sits at the base of the volcano and is what you imagine Sicily to be. Lots of seafood markets, palm trees, endless boulevards with folks walking seemingly with no destination and lots of sunshine, all the time. Then you start on a 10-mile journey to the north end of the volcano and change comes quickly. Steep, windy roads, rocky terrain, barren landscape, dark earthy patches of soil, cool weather, a sense of stillness and solitude and not a fish to be had. What is this fish you speak of? Um, I'll just have the donkey. 

Wine has been made on Mount Etna for thousands of years but in modern times it's only been relevant for about 25. Before then, it mainly produced oceans of bulk wine that got shipped to other markets. The area that produces wine on the volcano is shaped like a backwards c with villages ringing the northern, eastern and southern portions. Vineyards exist between a wide range of altitudes around the volcano, 1000-4000 feet. The phylloxera louse never took hold here as it did in most of Europe in the late 1800s due to Etna's sandy porous soils giving Etna a high proportion of ancient rootstock. As it constantly extrudes different types and combinations of lava and ash along its perimeter at different altitudes, a great variety of site-specific wines emerge that communicate their respective terroir. The most important red grape of Etna is Nerello Mascalese. It has a genetic link to Sangiovese, which means it's pretty and produces wines that are often compared to Pinot Noir or Nebbiolo, putting it in classy company indeed. 

Irene Badalá makes wine on Etna's north side. She works with a tiny 3 hectare property of old to ancient vines that have been in her family for generations. Her Etna Rosso is always beautiful, honest and vintage specific. Sometimes light and ethereal, other times full, rich and almost brooding, always delicious and soulful. We've worked with it for many vintages but we'll leave her Rosso for another day. She also works as a telephone operator. 3 hectares ain't much when it comes to old rootstock. The otherworldliness of Etna struck me some years ago when I visited Irene with some friends, starting the day in hot Catania and getting stuck in a snowstorm in Etna just a short drive away. Irene assured me that the piece of crap rental car I had would not make it down the mountain in the snow and so we stayed the night. In conversation that evening, she mentioned that she sells a small quantity of red grapes to local producers. I plainly suggested she use the grapes to make a rosato for Gjelina as we already have all the rosso we needed. She was hesitant as she had never made a rosé before, but we all persisted in assuring her. Great raw material and honesty usually equals compelling results. Well yes, and then some. 

The following spring we tried her first rosé effort and were floored. It was Etna in a glass. Wild berries, their green tops, mineral tang, windswept herbs, smoke, ash and clarity. And freaking delicious. A rosé for people that don't like rosé. The most personal wines are beyond flavor notes. They are a collection of opposing forces working coherently. Her rosato is both complex and endearingly simple. It communicates the person, the place and a specific time. And it simply elevates a meal. Or an afternoon on the porch. A conversation. I think she would have made a rosato anyway one day. I sometimes think I should keep my mouth shut. But not that day in the snow. 

Irene Badalá Etna Rosato is available at Gjelina and at Gjusta Grocer.

It is easy to get carried away in Gjusta Grocer. It's a common refrain that guests need to check out and leave before they find 15 more things too tempting to leave behind. The temptation is much worse at the tail end of a long week. I had a comically silly shopping trip last month that I had to share. A box of Pastificio pasta got knocked off the shelf and damaged at the beginning of my day, and I claimed it without a total plan, but knowing I wanted to cook on my days off. I spent the rest of the day walking the store, stocking the shelves, checking out guests, and musing about what I should cook. I decided on making a ragout; I love the way it makes the house smell, and as a baked pasta with rigatoni, it doesn’t get much more comforting for me than that.

I started my basket with some pork from Peads and Barnetts. I grabbed a shoulder that I could dice and throw in the braise, some ribs for all the connective tissue to add texture, and a smoked hock, because when there are smoked hocks around, you throw them in the sauce. The pork from Peads is really good; the fat renders so beautifully, the meat has an almost sweet flavor. If you haven’t read the piece about Oliver Woolley and Peads and Barnetts, you should pause now so you can grasp how truly special they are.  

I grabbed some fresh mozzarella from Gioia Cheese Company, and ricotta from Bellwether Farms. Something I learned from stretching mozzarella professionally is that it is at its best immediately after it is pulled. Every moment that passes, the cheese loses a little bit of its magic. 3-day-old fresh mozzarella is still delicious, don’t get me wrong, but the closer you can get to the hands that stretched the curd the better it will taste. Gioia Cheese is fresh; they call us in the evening twice a week to get our order, then stretch it the following morning and deliver it that afternoon. Minimal magic is lost in such a short supply chain. Bellwether Farms, based in Sonoma, makes the best ricotta I have tasted. The texture is really pillowy and perfect, they retain most of the fat from the whole milk by heating really slowly and gently, so it is also really rich. They start with cultured milk, so beyond just the sweet milky flavor, it has a slight tang, which I needed to cut through the sweet and sticky ragout. I also took home garlic and whole peeled San Marzano tomatoes from La Valle.  

I also grabbed a bottle of the Tutti i Giorni Rosso from Antonio Camillo. It's a very fresh every day red with crunchy red fruits and good acidity. Bonus points for being a liter, because I needed some for the sauce, and more than a little for the chef.

When I got home I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had gotten carried away. I started to break down the collar to braise, and they looked like the most beautiful collar steaks. They should have been cooked as such, but I had the rest of my basket to think of, so I trimmed off the fat cap and rendered it, so I could sweat onions, garlic, and a couple serranos in it for some heat. I browned all the meat separately and reserved it. Once the aromatics were starting to get some color, I covered them with wine, added some spices (long pepper, mace, bay leaves), cooked that all down till it was almost dry again, then crushed and threw in the tomatoes, and put all the browned meat in the pot and popped the whole thing in the oven at 250 overnight. The next day I pulled out the bones from the ribs, cooked the pasta, tossed in the cheese and baked.  

It was a massive pan of pasta, it fed me really well, and made delicious leftovers. In retrospect, did I need a full basket of groceries and a full day of cooking in the name of not wasting a damaged box of pasta? I absolutely did not. But, the times when I let myself get carried away are the times I have the most fun in the kitchen. So, will I find a box of inspiration and let myself fill a basket and get carried away again? I absolutely will.

This confit is somewhat luxurious and takes a bit of extra effort to produce, but the little pearls of tomato flesh are sweeter and more delicate than our regular tomato confit. We spoon these over grilled vegetables or fish. 

Cherry Tomato Confit

From Gjelina: Cooking From Venice, California (Chronicle Books)

Makes 4 cups [800 g]

2 pints [760 g] Sun Gold cherry tomatoes, stemmed

2 cups [480 ml] extra-virgin olive oil, plus more as needed

4 garlic cloves, smashed

½ cup [15 g] basil leaves

1 tsp kosher salt

3 fresh thyme sprigs

1. Preheat the oven to 350° [180°C]. Bring a large pot of water to boil over high heat. Prepare an ice water bath by filling a large bowl with ice water.

2. Use a paring knife to score a small X in the bottom of each tomato. Plunge the tomatoes into the boiling water for 20 seconds, and immediately transfer them to the ice water bath. Work in batches, if necessary, until all the tomatoes have been blanched.

3. When the cherry tomatoes are cool, remove them from the water. With your fingers, gently slip the tomatoes out of their skins and place them in a single layer in a baking dish. Pour the olive oil over the tomatoes and add the garlic, basil, salt, and thyme. Cover tightly with aluminum foil and bake for 30 minutes, or until the oil is hot but the tomatoes remain vibrant and whole. Let cool completely.

4. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks, completely covered with olive oil to prevent air from reaching them.

By Henry Beylin, Gjelina Group’s Wine + Beverage Director

I never liked Prosecco. To this day it's a very bland, unexciting wine that speaks more of business savvy, marketing and mindless consumption. There are exceptions to everything and they exist here too, but those aside, it's a very uninspiring category. Most are fruity, have the appearance of — if not actual — sweetness with a taste that can be described as correct and general. It is popular, however, very popular. In 2021, there were 627.5 million bottles produced, making it one of the most popular wines in the world. What a revelation it was then when I had my first Prosecco Col Fondo many years ago. It was everything Prosecco wasn't supposed to be. Fresh, savory, tangy, yeasty, slightly bitter and unfiltered. Furthermore, it appeared to be made with intention. It was specific and singular and thoughtful. Somebody was trying to say something in a fresh way. This new expression seemed so timely and of the moment with the wild and sour-like flavors of many natural wines, the nascent orange wine emergence, pet nats and unfiltered wines from, well, everywhere. Except it wasn't a fresh and new expression. It was the original version. The progenitor of oceans of modern homogeneous swill. What the fuck?

Col Fondo means "with the bottom," referring to the yeast. Col Fondo Prosecco undergoes a secondary fermentation in the bottle like many other sparkling wines trapping the CO2 bubbles and creating carbonation, but the resultant yeast are not disgorged but remain in bottle, eventually settling at the bottom. The yeast is meant to be incorporated into the wine making a hazy and rustic looking beverage for all relevant hipsters. And this was the way, the only way until the 1970's and the advent of stainless steel tanks. One could now control temperature and pressure which allowed the secondary fermentation to happen in large stainless steel tanks, be filtered and bottled under pressure resulting in a clean, inoffensive "modern" wine while allowing production to scale up exponentially. All of a sudden farmers didn't have to make their own wines but could sell grapes to large firms that made wedding toast wine for the world and all regional and personal expression was lost to efficiency. And then upwardly mobile Americans who could not decide whether to eat breakfast or lunch invented brunch bringing forth the Mimosa, and the new sleek Prosecco found its raison d'etre. 

But not everybody changed their methods of production, and some that did kept making the traditional method of Prosecco, now known as Col Fondo but before simply Prosecco, in tiny amounts, sometimes just for family and friends, as a way of maintaining a link to previous generations. The world at large also developed an interest in the artisanal and the seemingly more authentic. Experiencing something traditional from a very localized culture is a counterpoint to the very modern sameness all around us. Prosecco Col Fondo found its moment. 

Col Tamaríe Col Fondo is a great example of the re-emergence of this classic style. The wine is joyful and fun. The yeast adds a level of complexity and textural depth. The flavor is slightly funky but clean, much more savory than fruity, zesty, salty and earthy. It's great with food, all food. It's balanced and intentional. It represents somebody. That's key. It links us to the past while looking forward. And it tastes damn good. 

Col Tamaríe Prosecco Col Fondo is available at Gjelina and Gjusta Grocer.

We recently joined Isabel Hernandez, Gjelina Group Executive Chef Juan Hernandez’s sister and Gjelina LA Head Chef Rafa’s cousin, in Oaxaca to chat about her hometown of San Bartolomé Quialana, how it has changed since Chef Juan departed for California, and what she thinks her community needs most now. We visited her at the thriving beauty salon she’s owned for the last 10 years in downtown Tlacolula (the five customers coming in to inquire about a haircut or getting their eyebrows done in the 15 minutes while she was cleaning up after closing are a testament to her success) and accompanied her to San Bartolomé Quialana, where we had the honor of meeting with her parents, Felix and Emiliana. We toured downtown, stopping by the town’s church and the plaza where Juan’s school used to be, and were welcomed into Felix and Emiliana’s home, where Juan grew up and Isabel currently lives. 

Shelley Kleyn Armistead: Isabel, I've been working with your brother Juan for eight years now, and he is now the executive chef of the whole company.

Isabel Hernandez (via translator Santiago Reyes):  I'm really proud of him.

He is amazing, and having met with you now three times and your parents, and of course working with Javi too, one of your other brothers, you're a wonderful family. 

What do you remember about growing up with Juan and Javi?

I spent little time with them, but it was unforgettable. Just spending time with them was beautiful. I really miss them. 

I know. Every time I see you, you express emotion about how much you love them, how much you're proud of them, and how much you miss them. You're such a wonderful sister.

Thank you.

Why did you choose not to go to America?

I never really felt like going, and I also didn't want to leave my parents.

That's what I thought, and I wonder if that feels like a lot for you, you know.

I'm at peace with the decision I've made. I would like to see them, but I trust that they will come back one day.

Juan wanted me to study for a college degree, but I wanted to study as a stylist. He helped me pay for my studies, and then I was able to open my beauty salon. It has been open for 10 years already.

Is the San Bartolomé Quialana you live in now different to what Juan grew up in?

Yes, of course. Before, the houses were very different, now they have changed a lot. When Juan grew up here, there weren't parks to play in, but now we do have parks. The school we went to isn't there anymore — it's a park. They moved the school to downtown San Bartolo. 

What age does the school go to now?

Kindergarten to middle school.

And if they want to go to high school?

They go to Tlacolula.

By bus?

By taxi. There used to be buses, but now it's all taxis or trucks that are called mixto. People used the taxis more than the bus because it is faster.

I hear the same thing about Tlapazola — no more buses.

Yes, it's the same. 

What was your favorite thing, your favorite memory, about growing up in San Bartolomé Quialana? 

Christmas is one of my favorite moments because I was with my family.

Are there any specific dishes that feel most like home to you? 

Mole, cooked in a clay pot, is one of the dishes that reminds me the most of Quialana. 

What foods do you associate with growing up in San Bartolomé Quialana?

Isabel’s mother, Emiliana: I used to cook frijoles quebrados, “broken beans,”  the most for my children. It’s a way to prepare black beans. Back in the day, there wasn’t a plaza in Quialana, so buying cow meat wasn’t that easy, but I bought it on some occasions in another market on Sundays. Cow meat was something they definitely enjoyed eating. 

San Bartolomé Quialana is known for garbanzo beans — can you share more about what is unique about these? 

Emiliana: We make tortillas out of garbanzo beans, garbanzo tortillas.

Isabel: We also make garbanzo bean candy. We make it into a dough with some corn and sugar, and we bake it.

Have you always had an instinctual understanding of cooking? Do you remember what the first things were that you learned how to cook?

Emiliana: When they were kids, between six and eight years old, they had to cook for each other when we left for work.

Isabel: The first thing I learned to cook was eggs. I remember I used to cook eggs with potatoes for my brother and sister. Juan loved that dish. He ate it with salsa. When my brother used to take care of sheep, I used to cook for him and I liked cooking eggs with potatoes the most. My mother taught me how to cook beans, soup, and also garbanzo beans when I was very young. I also learned how to cook tasajo asado.

What other food traditions feel most important to you — maybe things that you like enjoying with your family or that you remember your family members enjoying most?

Isabel: My mother always cooked white cow meat broth with vegetables. She really loved to cook that, and we loved to eat it.”

What dishes (ceramics, cooking pots, specific utensils) do you rely on most?

Emiliana: Nothing special. We used to cook with firewood a lot. We didn’t use clay pots that much, though.

What other flowers, plants, or vegetables are most abundant in San Bartolomé Quialana?

Isabel: There is a lot of chepil around here. We ate that a lot. We also grow a flower called penumbre, but due to the lack of rain this year, the plant did not flower. We also grow cempasúchil here. Some people grow basil to sell in the market. We also grow corn and garbanzo beans, but the lack of rain is ruining this year's production

Emiliana: There are also many people growing agave nowadays.

What do you feel your community in San Bartolomé Quialana needs most right now?

Isabel: I would definitely say a playground would be very good for the children of Quialana. Also a place for them to play soccer and basketball. We have a multipurpose court for soccer, basketball, and volleyball, but it has not been taken care of for a long time so it's cracked and it's not usable anymore. 

Chef Juan works with Chef Pedro. They opened a new restaurant called Valle, making Oaxacan food. Chef Pedro is from San Marcos Tlapazola. Chef Pedro remembers running from San Marcos to San Bartolo to play basketball, and whoever won would win a case of soda. So when Chef Pedro came back to San Marcos Tlapazola, he saw that the children didn't have anywhere to play and he helped build basketball courts for them. And he really believes San Marcos needs a sports coach for kids to keep them active.

Yes. 

Is there anything else you feel San Bartolomé Quialana needs?

There also isn’t a dentist here anymore.

Would there be a building for a dentist?

There is a building, but there's no doctor. They need tools, too.

Do you think we would find a dentist? If we helped with the equipment, I wonder if we would find someone.

The equipment may have been the reason why the dentist left.

That's what I'm thinking, if we help with the equipment, it would bring a person maybe.

The dentist was put there by the government. We do not have a hospital, but we have a clinic, and the dentist was in the clinic.

Was your cousin Rafa in San Bartolomé Quialana when you were growing up? 

Yes. We played canicas — they're glass balls — with Armando and Jorge. Jorge is Armando's brother.

Oh, marbles! 

Juan has a cousin on each side of the family working with them in the kitchen. Rafa's one sous chef and Armando's another. It's amazing, they look after each other. Yeah, it's really cool.

Gracias, Isabel. Thank you for your time, and you let me know if there's anything I can do for you.

Muchas gracias también a usted. I miss my brothers a lot. 

By Euni Park 

Something I’ve always known but has been becoming clearer is that the farmers’ market provides a cornucopia of unique fruits and vegetables, with each one providing endless inspiration. A single Flavor Grenade pluot can elicit ten different conversations from ten different people; each focusing on a different facet of the humble stone fruit.

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At our restaurants we are guided by listening and learning from the stories of our team, particularly the ways our families, upbringings, and lineage have shaped the way we consider, source, prepare, and share food. Our series Family Meal spotlights recipes from different members of our team that have — in some way — informed the way they cook today. 

This week we’re sharing a recipe from Gjelina Group Project Manager CJ Capace, whose variation on pasta e fagioli represents the style of Italian comfort food made by her Grandma Jo, whose intuitive style and take on tradition influenced CJ’s own approach to considering how classic dishes find their place in our own stories. As CJ explains, “there is some version of this dish from every region of Italy. Pasta and beans. Simple. Hearty. Cheap. But Grandma Jo’s is the best.”

“One of my earliest food memories is with my Grandma. I’m sitting on her kitchen counter peeling the skins from warm, blistered peppers. I was hopelessly in love. I never missed a chance to be in the kitchen while she was cooking. The rhythm of peeling and chopping garlic, frying eggplant, slicing medallions of fresh mozzarella, never forgetting to stir the sauce simmering on the back burner. Grandma’s apron goes on after her first cup of coffee and doesn’t come off until she’s sipping her sambuca after dinner.”

“Food is the blood of our family. It’s our love language; a common ground. And at the root of it all there is a force of strong women.”

“When my family moved from New York to Virginia, my Grandma made her routine visit every other month or so. She arrived by train with a piece of luggage filled entirely with food. Pounds of grated parmesan in ziplock bags because “it’s a sin what they charge down here,” chicken cutlets, rice balls from Aunt Kathleen, jars of sauce, pounds of salami sliced thin, “like paper.” If it was cheaper in New York or she knew you loved it, it was in there. Shells & peas for my brothers. Chicken soup for my sister. Pasta fazool for me.”

CJ’s Pasta “Fazool” aka Pasta e Fagioli 

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There is a level of access you have as a restaurant professional to reach out to all your vendors and say, for example, I need a new olive oil and I am looking for something really peppery, not too grassy, and have 20 samples of olive oils curated to your preferences hand delivered to you so you can choose your absolute favorite. The result of so many years working in kitchens, for me, is that for certain products I am an insufferable snob.  Nowhere in the store is that as apparent as in the wall of chocolate bars.  

Dark chocolate is, at its best, just cacao beans and sugar. At the farms, the cacao is harvested, the beans are fermented, and dried. At the chocolatier, the beans are roasted, winnowed, then conched with sugar. The conches I have used are straight sided metal vessels, with a round stone slab at the base, with large stone rollers, so as the slab rotates, the rollers agitate and refine the chocolate and incorporate the sugar. The longer the chocolate is conched for, the more fine the texture. As with many simple processes, there are as many opportunities to add beautiful nuance as there are for flaws to creep in. I am a stickler for texture; a great chocolate bar has a beautiful shine and snap, but a silky texture that melts with ease on your tongue. My favorite way to experience dark chocolate is to unwrap a bunch of single origin dark chocolates, and try them all side by side, so I can taste the differences. The Ritual Chocolate 75% from Peru tastes like summer stone fruit, toasted nuts with a floral undertone. The Original Beans Zoque from Mexico is all sweet and floral tropical fruits like lychee and coconut. The 68% chocolate by Lumineux from the Philippines tastes like toasted marshmallows. I could go on forever; more is more where chocolate is concerned. 

I was a purist, only dark chocolate for me, but I have come around to flavored chocolates. For that, I blame Fossa. I blame a lot on Fossa; I didn’t think white chocolate was particularly exciting until I tried their white sesame and seaweed white chocolate, which might be my favorite bar on the wall. Their salted egg chocolate bar upended my idea of what a chocolate bar was, let alone could be. Qantu can take the blame for my new interest in milk chocolates. Their goat milk chocolate bar, ‘Dreams of Cashmere,’ is divine. The goat’s milk tang plays off the fruit notes of plum and pear, all rounded out with caramel overtones. We have a bar from Chocolate Naive Co out of Lithuania that has massive chunks of dried pulp from the cacao fruit studding the bar, adding a new dimension to the fruit notes that you get from the chocolate bar itself.  

You can’t miss the legacy of colonialism in chocolate; very little ‘fancy’ chocolate historically was made in cacao growing regions. This is a really exciting time to buy and sell chocolate, because there are companies now producing and exporting truly beautiful chocolate, with a physically close connection to the farms where the cacao is grown. I love this not just because it aligns with my values, but because it opens up a whole new universe of possibilities for flavors and inclusions. I have written about Cuna de Piedra’s bars before, and will probably write about them again. Their Chiapas bar with Mezcal joven is incredible. Texturally, flavor profile, presentation, I like everything about it. Casa Bosques makes a bar with a leaf of hoja santa in the middle. That licorice/eucalyptus/tarragon flavor from the hoja santa is a revelation. Clearly I could go on about chocolate forever, and I haven’t even touched all the chocolate-covered sweet snacks, or the drinking chocolates. There is too much to muse about for one Gjournals entry, but do me a favor and unwrap and nibble 6 dark chocolate bars at once. Try something you think you hate, you just might prove yourself wrong. If you need a recommendation, you know where to find me.

Gjusta Grocer

105 Windward Ave, Venice, CA

Hours: 8am-8pm (Monday-Sunday)

info@gjustagrocer.com 

310-853-5088

Follow: @gjustagrocer

In this series, Gjusta Flower Shop’s Susannah Liguori and Ibby Anda highlight some of their favorite flowers and farms. 

Ibby Anda: Hello, and welcome back to our Gjusta Flower Shop monthly spotlight! 

Susannah Liguori: Welcome, we're glad you're here!

Today we're going to talk about dahlias. They're the flower of the season and a hot commodity.

Dahlias are really lovely, and they're in season from June to about late September. It's a pretty long season, so you can enjoy them for a while. 

We just got our first crop a few weeks ago from McGrath Family Farm in Camarillo, California. It's a 300 acre farm composed of several specialty micro farms. Phil McGrath is the owner and his goal is to work towards more sustainable farming methods that benefit the environment. What's really cool about this farm is they have a multitude of different ways that they're working to be sustainable,  be kind to the earth, and produce beautiful flowers. They experiment with different insect controls and composting techniques that complement an organic production system. And a fun fact is there was a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf by the farm, and Phil used to use the discarded grounds and filters from the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf to make his compost. 

Another way he's working towards sustainability is by supplying lots of restaurants around LA, and restaurant owners offered to give him their used vegetable oil to help fuel his tractors. So now all of his gear and tractors and stuff runs off of like half of a blend of vegetable-based fuel and diesel. His plants are being taken care of by plants.

That’s amazing. What a well run system!

Another fun fact: their farm is part of a study at Berkeley that focuses on native bee populations, and they had some sort of bee delivery. Eight months ago, Phil set up what he dubs to be an island made up of some 15 kinds of plants on the edge of the family farm's field to attract bees, and now they have multiple new bee species on the property.

Wow, that's so cool. We love the bees. They are so important to the environment and to humans. We're going to have to go visit. 

Bees are the nectar of life. They're essential. They pollinate food crops, they rely on other pollinators. Every three bites we consume relies on pollination.

They are such hardworking creatures. 

Bees are dying because it's too hot. We've got to take care of it.

Certainly makes us appreciate the McGrath Family Farm and their bee care.  

Yeah, the bees are happy there. They're developing.

So they grow these dahlias on one of their micro farms?

Yes. They're gorgeous. Their dahlias kind of remind me of heirloom tomatoes, you know? Like a beautiful, ripe heirloom tomato. Not one is the same. They're just incredibly poetic, if I do say so. 

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The folds in them are just stunning!

They're your favorite — you wanted to do this episode before lilies. 

I really did. I'm fascinated by the dahlias. 

You are, and you love to smell them even though there's no scent. Ibby likes to walk around the shop and smell everything. Like each flower, and I'm like, "Nope, not that one. Nope, not that one."

It's true. The dahlias just draw you in so much that I imagine them to have a scent. And it's okay, they don't need one because they're that beautiful.

They're really cool. Do you know what fractalization is? Dahlias kind of look like a romanesco cauliflower. 

Yes, I love that simile. And the colors are so vibrant.

You can't even make up these colors. 

People are so drawn to them when they come in. 

People are loving them, and I love having them, and we're just gonna keep on the dahlia train until late September... and then Ibby's going to cry.

Yes, but for now, we're going to enjoy them, sell them, and bask in their beauty. So I hope you all enjoy, and we look forward to discussing our new flower with you next month! 

Enjoy your summer! 

Gjusta Flower Shop

1511 Park Row, Venice, CA

NOW OPEN ON SUNDAYS! 

Open 10am-5pm, Monday-Sunday 

Whether you’re in Venice for a day or for an extended stay at Gjusta Apartment, we’ve compiled a list of some of our favorite places to eat, sights to see, and things to do to enjoy Venice like our team does.

Trip Davis, Gjelina Floor Manager / Gjelina Group Photographer

I am a big fan of Wallflower.

The surprise for me was American Beauty. If you fancy a high dollar steak and on point cocktail, American Beauty will serve it up. Not to mention some decadent and yummy side dishes.

Go enjoy the great outdoors!!! I fell in love with living in Venice because of the array of outdoor activities to access. Sounds obvious, but a MUST is a Sunset stroll along our coastline. Bike ride... duh. Try surfing, duh, but it's so fun!!!!

Go on a hike at Backbone Trail out of Will Rogers State Park or Temescal Canyon. These are busy hiking spots but are not far from Venice.

Stroll through the backstreets and canals of Venice. Dusk walks along the canals or Venice's back walk streets give you a cozy feel for the decadent side of living in Venice.

Chef Jenn Sills, Gjusta Head Chef

The LA Louver.

Mosaic Tile House on Palms.

Teddy’s Red Tacos.

Lucy Cogswell-Stewart, Director of Operations

I'm a huge fan of the homemade flour tortillas with salsa verde from Casablanca. Bring a few dollars to make sure you can tip the people making them in the hearth in the middle of the restaurant (and possibly for the margarita cart).

Venice canals can't be missed, of course.

Ceci Aquino, Gjelina Floor Manager

One of my favorite taco places, Lupita’s Tacos, is right on Palms and Lincoln. They’re an Oaxacan family from San Lucas Quiaviní.  

Nina Subhas, General Manager of Gjusta Grocer

My favorite thing to do in Venice, especially when I have family in town, is rent beach cruisers and bike down to Hermosa and back on the bike path on the beach. I think there are places where you can rent roller skates too, which might be even more fun.

I have also become a little obsessed with the birria from Teddy's. It’s right by the beach/store and it's delicious. Also, I love the dairy free ice cream at Salt and Straw. It's better than their dairy ice cream, if you can believe it. 

I haven't done it, but I LOVE pickle ball and it looks like you can play at the public paddle tennis courts on the beach, so that's on my list now for when my parents are in town next.

Susannah Liguori, Lead Florist 

Sunny Blue omusubi — don't skip the daikon side salad!

Townhouse for sweaty dancing.

Fig Tree for a glass of vino and french fries before a sunset jump in the ocean.

Ibby Anda, Sunset Retail Manager

Go for an early morning beach walk right along the water as the sun is rising, the crowds have not yet hit the beach, and you might catch some early morning surfers. 

For a romantic, cozy, true & due Italian meal, head to Barrique where you will dine on delicious food with candlelight in an old yellow two story cottage. 

As Chef Jenn noted, Teddy's Red Tacos is a must for a casual, but incredible, beef birria taco stop. The tacos here are homemade with just a few ingredients, and melt in your mouth. Hit the BYOB back patio and hang or grab a go before hitting the beach. 

Dudley Market is a fabulous seafood spot tucked on a little alley right off the boardwalk. It is fun, crowded, serving wonderful fresh fish & natural wines. 

Stroll the canals, before making your way to Abbot Kinney to hit the shops. Grab a drink at The Brig (a bar that has been around since 1952) on their large outdoor patio before your dinner reservation at Gjelina, where you will have incredible seasonal vegetable dishes, pizzas, wine, and more in a fun and lively, yet intimate setting. 

By Sam Rogers, Gjelina Group’s Farm Liaison 

Eli Lichter-Marck of Eli’s Bees is a contagiously excited presence. He is a local beekeeper in the Santa Monica Mountains and produces honey like you've never tasted before. Recently I woke up to an early morning text from him of a picture of this incredible candy-looking pollen. The colors were so vibrant — purples and blues, greens and oranges — that I, like Eli, immediately got overwhelmed with excitement. 

Read more

Introduction by Shelley Kleyn Armistead

Rafael is unassuming and has a presence. In my mind when I see him, I see a stoic warrior. I am not sure if that visual truly belonged to me, or if it came about through a conversation with Travis. But that stoicism and calm demeanor makes him an excellent leader. Rafa, like many of our team, is Zapotec, a pre-Columbian civilization that took root in the Valley of Oaxaca (hence our restaurant Valle) at least 2500 years ago. And boy can he cook.

Rafa, who has been with the Gjelina Group since 2008, is part of the fabric and DNA of everything we do at Gjelina, and took over as head chef at the beginning of 2020. I have loved watching him step into this role that is so deserved. 

As Chef Juan and I move into Gjelina NY, we do so happily, knowing that Rafa is at the helm. I hope you enjoy getting to know him more. We had a conversation around the communal table in Gjelina and various family members joined in.

Shelley Kleyn Armistead: Okay, so I'm here with Chef Rafa. Can you share your story with us? What was your childhood upbringing like in San Bartolo, and how did your journey lead you to Los Angeles?

Chef Rafael Martinez: Well, I grew up there and I used to do school work, which was kind of my childhood.

What age did you go to school in San Bartolo?

Until I was 16, so pre-school, kindergarten, there was first grade to sixth grade, and then you go to like 12th and 14th, which is like high school there.

But is that in San Bartolo? It's not in Tlacolula? 

In San Bartolo, yeah. I was there, but I was also farming, you know. I went to school at nighttime. So I pretty much spent time with my friends during the day doing work with the farmers. Corn, flowers...

What flowers? Do you remember?

All the names, no, but we used to do like basil, flor de cempasúchil, the yellow flower?

Marigolds, sí. 

Yeah, and then what else? I mean like we did radishes, fruits.

I also understand that the crop, not just like the milpa, but in San Bartolo specifically is garbanzo beans?

Garbanzo beans, corn, and black beans.

So would you associate San Bartolo with the farming community? 

Yeah. 

I heard a story, and I might have this wrong. But I heard a story that a lot of times when there's like a celebration of some sort, people drive to San Bartolo to get the garbanzo bean tortillas. Have you ever heard that?

Maybe...

Is Josie [Rafa’s sister-in-law, Gjelina Charcuterie] from San Bartolo? 

Yes, she is. 

Josie, do you remember garbanzo bean tortillas in San Bartolo, or no? 

Josefina (Josie) Raymundo-Sanchez: Yeah!

I've never had a garbanzo bean tortilla. 

Josie: Wow, I have some at home.

You do? Is it just the garbanzo bean? It's not garbanzo beans and maíz? 

Josie: No, no, just the garbanzo bean. 

I just saw Pedro's mom and dad when I was in Tlapazola, and they were saying that now the, like, scandal in Tlacolula is that people who are making tortillas in the markets are mixing the maíz with corn flour.

Chef Rafa: Is it better?

No, they're like it's not real, you know what I mean? They grow their own corn, they make the nixtamal, they make the tortillas, and they're like, now people are mixing corn flour in it. It's the big scandal in Tlacolula right now. 

Okay, so growing up in San Bartolo, do you remember Chef Pedro told the story about how he and his friends used to run from Tlapazola to San Bartolo to play basketball against each other?

Yes, I remember a little bit the different towns coming like San Marcos and San Lucas. They always came at like five in the afternoon in groups.

That's so cool. I was speaking to Isabel, your cousin, when I was down there, and I was saying to her, "If there's one thing, what does San Bartolo need? Like does San Bartolo actually need anything?” And she mentioned the basketball court is so cracked; it needs to be resurfaced. There's no way for the kids to play. 

Yeah.

I thought that it would be an interesting thing to find out how much it would cost, and see what the Gjelina Group Foundation could do.

That would be great because I know a lot of kids there like to do sports. They have a soccer field, but it's far away so a lot of people just don't go there. Basketball is in the center. 

Right, so this is what I've been sort of like asking Pedro and Juan, and then I asked Pedro's sister out there and Juan's sister out there, like, what do you think San Bartolo or Tlapazola need? A lot of it is generated towards the kids.

Isabel also said they don't have a dentist because there's no dental equipment in the clinic there. And if they could get dental equipment, they could probably attract a dentist, which is something that they feel that they need. Very interesting conversations. 

What age were you when you came over?

17.

Why LA?

Why LA? Because my brothers were here. I had two brothers here, so I came. My dad wasn't there in Oaxaca, but then he went back. 

So did your dad come first? And then your brothers?

Yeah, my dad came a long, long time ago. 

Where did he work, do you remember?

He can't remember the place that he worked in. And then I asked him if he doesn't remember where the location was, like what's the name of the restaurant? But he's like, “I don't know.”

And your brothers can't remember?

No. They were there, too. But yeah, my dad came first, and then my two brothers came, and then I came. 

Pretty much, for me, I imagined LA is like a place where you can work and make money. But then when I got here and I saw my brothers, like they worked at night and, in the morning, they just laid in bed and didn't do anything. One of my aunts told me, "Hey, this is how California is, if you're going to survive, you have to work, you have to study, you have to study." 

So when you had a picture in your mind of leaving San Bartolo, Oaxaca and coming to LA, how was it different? How did it feel different? I've heard stories of, you know, “I was coming because I could make money and I could have more freedom, and I could maybe study a little bit more, and then I get here and it's actually a lot of work, the living conditions are not great…”

I think what I imagined is like I'm going to come here, grow up, make money to make my house and go back. And then get married. That was the thought. But then when I got here, I started to go to school, I was working, going around. I can do something there, but I'd rather be here, like make a living here as much as I can.

I understand that logic. So what was your first job?

Dishwasher.

Where?

It was in Westwood. A Japanese place called Tengu.

That was the beginning of everything.

Everything, yeah. 

Wow. Did you ever go to school after that? 

Yeah. My mom's brother took me to the doctor to get all my documents to go to school, and he put me in school. So I went to school. 

Which school did you go to? 

I went to a high school that is on Wilshire and Granville.

Oh, I think — it's not University High School?

Yeah.

It's really good.

I went there for four years.

Oh, that's super cool. That's a really good high school. My son just got in on a lottery to that school. It's now a lottery to get in. 

Oh wow, really? Yeah, I went there, and I started as a dishwasher. 

Do you remember your shift from dishwasher to the next position?

Yeah, I worked for like six months as a dishwasher because I remember Chef Joe was there and was like, "Want to learn how to make salad?" I was trying to go more in the front of the house, like to do it faster, you know.

So your thought process was, I'll move from dishwasher to Front of House even faster.

Yeah. They were like, "Hey, do you want to learn how to make salads?" I was like, "Okay, why not?" And then I started making salad, and then I was just watching the guys grill, sauté, tempura.

Do you remember your first fish that you were given to filet by yourself? Because you have to have pretty serious knife skills to work there eventually, no?

No, if you start with a salad, no, not really, but they're gonna teach you. They  taught me there pretty well. And I was watching how the chefs did the fish, how they filleted it. I started making salad, and then I moved to making tempura, and then grilled. So then by that time, I knew like all the stations and Chef Juan was already a chef there, and then they were like, "Would you like to join the team?" and I was like, "Why not?” I tried my best. I always keep trying my best, and that's how it started.

That's amazing. How did you meet your wife?

She followed me. Nah (laughs). I went to Oaxaca, and she went to Oaxaca the same year so I met her there.

That's so cute. You're from the same town? 

We are. 

But you never knew each other growing up?

No. I knew her older sister but not her.

Josie has another sister? There are three sisters?

They have five sisters.

Oh my god. No boys?

Chef Rafa: Yeah, two boys.

Josie: We're seven.

That's amazing. Your parents gave you lots of friends to grow up with, right? 

Chef Rafa: And now I only have one boy. 

And did your brother Rigo follow you?

It was a year, I think, and then he came.

(To Rigo) Why did you follow your brother here? 

Rigo Martinez: It was more like, “Oh they're there, I want to go see California too.”

Your dad had already gone back? When you came over, had your dad already gone back?

Rigo: No, he brought me. I had in mind, like, I'm gonna go there and work, and then make the house for myself.

It's the Oaxacan dream — you're gonna come here, make money, and go and build your home.

Rigo: We talk a lot about, oh, people come here and they make a lot of money. 

Yeah, you're all sold that story, yeah? Wow.

Rigo:  I came when I was fifteen.

Chef Rafa: He came younger than I did. 

So did you go to school here? 

Rigo: Yeah. Same school, University High.

Did you and Rafa work together before?  

Rigo:  Yeah.  

At Tengu? 

Rigo: Yeah. 

What were you doing there? Front of house?

Rigo: No, I was washing dishes, and then I moved from there to the salad station.

Oh my God, it's the same path!

Rigo: And I went to pantry, and then I did the grill, so I kind of did everything.

So we could throw you on the line when we're in the shit?

Chef Rafa: Be like, "Hey, go!" (laughs)

How old is your baby now? 

Rigo: A year and a half. 

And now you all only make boys? 

Rigo: Literally. 

Right? No baby girls. 

Rigo: My older brother has a girl, but she's already like twenty.

Is there ever a situation in your mind that you would go back? 

Rigo: Yeah. 

What would that look like for you?

Rigo: Beautiful.

What shifted for me, because you know, I hadn’t been back to Oaxaca for three years, and what was different for me this time round was you can't get a hotel room. The restaurants are full. Like it's packed there. It's so huge for tourism. It's massive. 

There's one new hotel that's opened there, the newest hotel that has opened, and it's a concept out of Mexico City. Small hotel, teeny. Like no swimming pool. No spa, no amenities. $6,000 US for two rooms for one week. 

Chef Rafa and Rigo: US?!

US! Oaxaca's killing it in terms of money. 

But what's fascinating to me is the chef program now. And you know what? I never asked the question — I don't know if it came as a result of the pandemic or it's just a smarter business model, but so many chefs are cooking in their homes. It's like six courses. It's a little bit like Enrique Olvera’s style. 

So you show up, you knock on the gate, you go in, six courses including dessert, and then they pair some of the most extraordinary wines. Like you start with a little pulque that they've made, and then there's like one type of Mezcal, and there's wine, and there's beer, then there's another type of Mezcal, and then there's a poleo tea, right? 1400 to 1900 pesos per person depending on whether you have beverages or no beverages. It's $70 US to $95 US per person. Your average spend per head here at dinner is $65. 

One that I did, I forget the name, but it was one of the many wild herbs, and like the tiniest cherry tomato I've ever seen on the bed, and then shrimp that's been mixed with avocado — that's just one dish. 

Chef Rafa: Raw?

No, cooked. Then we had a taco with smoked octopus and avocado. Because they're quite limited on fish protein. And then we had a parsley soup. 

Chef Rafa: Parsley?

It was like a thick lemon and parsley soup with another wild herb. I have the name of the herb somewhere. Red snapper with squash blossoms, raw squash blossoms. And then we had mole with snapper. And then like a coconut ice cream. It was excellent. You see the same things because the only fish available was red snapper, but the flavor profile was fantastic. They're only doing six tables a night, but when you're doing it in your home and you're getting that kind of money, your quality of living is good... they're just spending their days in the market. But this one guy, I'll send it to you, his name is Jorge and the restaurant is called Alfonsina. He was one of Enrique's chefs. 

Chef Rafa: Where?

It's like just near the airport in Oaxaca. Like literally, you don't even go into the city. It's like a little offshoot. It's a little village that starts with an "A." We got caught in a traffic jam because they were all coming up because it was Holy Week, so everybody was coming up with the crosses and sandals, and we were like stuck in the middle of it. 

It’s fascinating because there's an indoor kitchen that looks like your kitchen, and then there's an outdoor kitchen. But they weren't using the outdoor kitchen, so I asked, "What's that for?" The mama makes everybody in the village breakfast and lunch. So they have two business models: you can go for your huevos and tortillas in the morning, and your quesadilla or whatever it is for lunch, but at night it flips to Jorge’s food. And they're all living together. It's fucking fascinating. And then you can rent out the rooms above.

The new trend, as well, is to do like a sourdough type bakery. It feels very California. But they've got these bakeries that are opening up in the city now, like Gjusta or Tartine. Boulenc did this one rye bread — actually, I really wanted to bring it to you. It was a rye bread with pumpkin seeds, it was fantastic. So next door they have a little store where they're selling the ceramics, and upstairs they have seven bedrooms. It's genius. They open at 8:30am every morning, and from 8:10, there's a line and then you put your name down. If you get there at 8:45, it's a 40 minute wait.

Chef Rafa: Wow. 

And then you can also go into the bakery and pick up to-go. I had Miguel, Head Baker from Gjusta, when I was meeting with the Head Baker from Pan con Madre, which is another bakery, I had them talk. I wanted Miguel to ask, like, "What are your influences?” "Why are you doing live ferments?" Because when you see the panaderías, there's no adobe baking, it looks like our ovens. But what's fascinating is the two people who have opened there, they're Mexican but they're not from Oaxaca. It's very interesting politically. 

Yeah, but there's cash if you can go in with a business plan, like if you can go in and you can satisfy accommodation, an experience, and great food, you will have — this is me speaking out of turn because I'm not Oaxacan, and you guys have been through so much more emotionally navigating this topic — I can only imagine your quality of life would be better than it is.

Rigo: Yeah, I have that in mind.

You've got to be super strategic, like set it all up. My thing would be, like, use us, set it all up before you go. Like you find the property, you get the permits, if you have somebody, an architect, working on the ground with you, you can do a lot, you get it dialed in. 

Kythzia, who has the foundation for the cerámica, she's building a house of clay which is a teaching center for people to learn about clay and to hold onto all of these stories. They have a restaurant, and they would like to partner with Gjelina. 

Rigo: I'll do my own hotel.

You'd make so much money. What do you love most about home?

Chef Rafa: There? Family, food, and going to the mountains.

I love those mountains. 

Like in my childhood, my mom always made soup with chepil and amaranth, that was like my favorite. And my grandma used to make this beef stew with lemon, lots of lemon. That's my favorite, favorite, favorite.

Do you ever make that now?

My mom came and she made it for me.

But you must make it!

I make it, but I can't get it right. They don't give me the recipe (laughs).

You have to go and learn from them. It's funny, when I was speaking to Pedro about it, he's like, "I can shape pizza dough, I can bake bread, but I can't make tortillas the way my mom makes tortillas." 

Yeah, they have that...I don't know. 

So the soup is amaranth and chepil?

Yeah, they boil it and they just throw the amaranth in there, and they make a jalapeño sauce, and put it in there. Salt, lemon juice. Simple, simple.

But there's corn in it? 

No, just the amaranth. 

And boiling it in water? No stock? Like beef stock or chicken stock?

No, no.

And then they add lemon juice and...

When they serve it, lemon juice and the jalapeño sauce.

Oh my God, that sounds amazing. 

They make the tortilla fresh, like what is fresh at the time. So you'd have a soft tortilla with that.

And that's your favorite food memory from home? 

Yeah.

And your grandmother — is it your mom's mom?

No, it's my dad's mom. 

Are your grandparents still alive?

No, only my grandma. My grandpas died young, like 56 and 60, both.

Both of them. Did they ever come to the US, or did it start with your father's generation? 

No, they didn't. It started with my father.  

What was breakfast like for you in your home?

We had oatmeal, sometimes with milk, sometimes with just water. Maybe with sugar. Bread. And then we'd work, have lunch at like 10 or 11. But we never had breakfast with eggs.

Are eggs a traditional breakfast in Oaxaca? 

No, not really. I think for central Oaxaca, yes, but not in the towns. They eat chocolate, oatmeal, coffee, and bread.

And the oatmeal is made from oats or it's made from maíz?

Sometimes they make maíz, sometimes oats.

Because in Africa it's made from maíz. We eat like a white maíz porridge. 

We use rice, like a rice pudding. 

I haven't had a rice pudding.

Just like rice with milk.

What spices do you recall your family using in meals at home?

Spices?

Yeah, were there any spices? Or was it mostly fresh herbs and chili?

Pretty much fresh. Dried peppers.

But it's not in a way, like in a specific culture, you might use cumin or cardamom or something to make a meal. It was very much like what was in front of you. 

Yeah, like what you have.

Today, are there any particular ingredients that you love to put in your cooking? Like when you cook at home, are there certain items that you always have with you, that you always put into your food? 

Now? I don’t cook anywhere else. I used to cook, but my wife cooks at home.

I was married to a chef and I did all the cooking. I totally get it, you don’t have to cook when you get home. 

But if you were to create a dish, are there any spices or ingredients that you gravitate towards, that you naturally go towards? Like for some people it’s lemon, some people it's salt.

Black pepper, dried chili peppers.

There’s something that came up for me when I was with Pedro's mom, and I wonder if you relate. Your way of thinking, or Pedro’s way of thinking, seems so utterly instinctual to me. Like the way you come up with something. Yes, of course you've had mentorship, but it feels like your palates when you taste something are so instinctual. 

When I was speaking to Chef Pedro's mom, I was saying, “You know, your son is extraordinary.” As I say to all the mothers, “Your son is extraordinary, the contribution that he has in our place is so amazing.” And her response was, “Yes, it's because he went to America and he went to school.” There is nothing that Venice High, or any education system, could ever have taught you about your palate.

The reason why people come here is because of you. And Juan and Pedro, and all the other chefs before you, and all the other chefs after you. But it's your palette that drives the food program and the way you combine things, it's not any formal education. 

Yeah. Now when I’m here, it’s just sometimes, like, seeing a new visual or something. Being like, okay, what are we gonna try with these? 

Is that how the Romano beans came to be? Because I don't know that I've seen the presentation of the Romano beans that way. Have we done that before? 

No. We always had braised Romano beans.

It's delicious. It's extraordinary. But I've never seen it done that way before.

They were like, “Oh, there's so much baby zucchini.” And Sam told me Romano beans might be in soon. And I was like, okay, we have this curry aioli, we have baby zucchini, whatever ingredient, and I used the same sauce as Zaatar, and I put it in there, and I was like, “Wow.”

Do you ever doubt yourself?

Yeah, yeah. Sometimes I'll taste something and I like it, but I’m kind of afraid to be like, okay, I'm going to put it on the menu, and they’re going to be like “Why did you put this on the menu? It’s not good.” But yeah, I do doubt sometimes.

Because I have never seen a decision come from you where I'm like, “Oh, my God that feels unthoughtful.” Every dish that you put up feels like you've thought about what you're putting together and why. You always are able to speak to that. 

We just made a red walnut tart. Chef Juan was like, “I want to make something with this.” We searched, and I made my own recipe, and it was added to the menu.

That's so great. That must be so satisfying. Because it's not just seeing something come to life, it's actually seeing something come to life and served multiple times over. So there are many people who are having that experience. It's not just like making a meal for your family: everybody eats it and it's done. You're creating something that hundreds of people are eating. It's really beautiful.

Yeah, I want to learn more.

But you've made such an extraordinary transition. And I think the gift of - and dare I say it, I know that sounds horrible - but the gift of Valle closing is we've had this extra time to brainstorm, to support each other, to come up with things. You know, you are the leader of that kitchen. And definitively when they go to New York, like, it's all you, which is great because you had this time to practice your confidence.

The fact that you've taken such a challenging time, where we shut down and we were cooking for people who were out of work, to working at Valle and creating Valle, and then coming back here and reopening in a bigger format than we've ever been used to. You know, we're gonna look back at this time in two years time, five years time, already right now. Using the resources you have, whether it's food, or the humans, what you're creating is extraordinary. I'm really proud to work with you.

Thank you. And I always thank you guys for trusting me and helping me.

You never have to doubt that we trust you. You're amazing to work with, and it's an honor to call you a colleague. 

What is your most favorite thing to eat when you're cooking for yourself? I know that you don't cook as much for yourself anymore, but what do you gravitate towards? Is it like pasta?

More like a steak, and fish.

Like a protein. And is it by itself? Or is it paired with something like a salad?

Always paired with vegetables, like whatever is seasonal. Like cauliflower.

Do you have a favorite kind of meat right now? Right now, if you were to cook yourself a steak at home, what would you choose? 

Ribeye. My wife likes fish, she’s always like “you should try it.” She loves all the vegetables we have.

The one thing that makes this place so extraordinary is the ability for you to create a complete dish with a vegetable. Like if you eat a vegetable dish, you don't want for anything else, you know what I mean? You honor it in such a beautiful way that if you were a complete carnivore and you came to eat here, you could eat an entire menu of just vegetables and not miss meat at all. 

And I say this over and over, Gjelina was the first restaurant, apart from one other that I used to work at  in London, where the entirety of the vegetable is celebrated. It's not just a side dish. Like back in the day, if you were vegetarian, you had to order off the sides. I’d order a side of spinach, a side of boiled carrots, a side of broccoli, and it's so uninspiring.

Yeah, I remember the restaurant we used to work at, they had a side of carrots, side of broccolini, side of spinach. 

And just think what a disservice that's doing to like these beautiful turnips that we're getting now. We get so much access to so much. Aren’t we lucky?

Rafa, thank you. You’re amazing. 

By Henry Beylin, Gjelina Group’s Wine + Beverage Director 

The Somlo Hill in northwest Hungary is an extinct volcano that rises up dramatically out of the seemingly endless plains that surround it. Its basalt rich soil has much in common with Sicily's Mount Etna, though the latter is still a very active volcano. My attraction to Hungarian wine is deep and overarching. To this day it's a very localized, even personal affair. For a small country, it has 22 unique wine regions producing mostly small batch wines that try to speak to you specifically. Honest specificity can lead to universality and nowhere is that more apparent than the marriage of the Juhfark grape with the steep slopes of the Somlo Hill. Juhfark is native to this hill and is found almost nowhere else. Out of 100 or so hectares that exist, about 80 are on Somlo. The grape being naturally neutral is a great translator of terroir, in Somlo being salty minerality, high acidity and austere, age-worthy tension. With age (and fine winemaking) we see stony, smokey and Riesling-like petrol notes present themselves with a fine backbone and creamy texture. 

A legend related to the fiery intensity of Juhfark is that it helps in conceiving a male child. It's called wedding night wine (sometimes on the actual label) as it is customarily consumed by newlyweds on their first night together. Statistics to its efficacy are sadly lacking, but the British Royal Family have historically been adherents, and who can argue with that.  

Also of interest is when the communist government nationalized most vineyards onto state control, it spared the highest elevated points of Somlo as they are too difficult to work, proving once again the communist can never reach Switzerland as it’s a mostly mountainous country and the whole "give what you can, take what you need" would be a wholly losing strategy.  

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Fekete Bela is the elder statesman of Somlo. He was a one man operation in the vineyard and the cellar into his late eighties until he sold his holdings to a younger generation. He still acts as a consultant, not only in the technical sense, but also offers honest and engaging philosophical direction to his namesake winery and the whole region at large. 

The best wines always come from some fortuitous union of grape, region, cultural history and fidelity of the producer to the aforementioned. If we are lucky, these wines aren't simply tasty but they leave questions unanswered, reminding us that we will never truly know them. That it's besides the point to even try. The Fekete Juhfark is such a wine. It not only displays the characteristics of the hill, smokey, salt-tinged minerality, fresh and ripe acidity, firmness of texture and opulence of character, it has a shadow side, both hero and antihero. Its hard-edged physicality and pointed nature hides a forthcoming and almost elegant interior. Flavors like honey, dried flowers and  tropical fruit will reveal themselves. This wine when trusted reveals itself. Just don't judge it by its cover. 

Fekete Winery Juhfark is available at Gjelina and Gjusta Grocer.

By Euni Park 

Melons in California are an entry into another realm. One I grew up perceiving I knew all there was to know. The varieties available to us from the Santa Monica and Hollywood farmers markets are extensive enough to bring home a new variety every single week during season. Before moving from New York, I truly didn’t realize I’d be so taken back by these sweet jewels of nature. 

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Shelley Kleyn Armistead: Your history is something that we could write books on and never even touch the present, but moving into the present — what do you feel like the Hudson Valley looks like today? Both based on the past and in terms of its farming future?

Elizabeth Ryan:  This is an interesting moment. When I came to Dutchess County in 1980, there were about 150 dairy farms down from 275 in 1972. By 2019 we were down to 16. There have been dramatic declines in local animal based agriculture, in dairy and other local commodity agriculture. There's been significant growth for small-scale, market-driven production of vegetables at the farmers markets — there were essentially no local farmers markets 40 years ago. The closing of the gap between farmers and chefs and consumers has greatly revitalized small farms. That lovely, special place that Gjelina lives in every day. Gjelina understands as much, or more than most. You get it, you're sourcing great local ingredients every day. You're touching the growers, you're bringing the best fresh produce in. So that space really didn't exist 50 years ago. A lot of Hudson Valley produce was going into the commodity food chain destined for supermarkets. Farmers were even throwing away some of their produce, if it was small or flawed in any way. When we came to the valley, many growers, if they didn't have a market for their small apples or your small pears, they got dumped behind the barn. Small potatoes, the little wonderful Grade B and Grade C, chefs started coming up here and saying to people, "You're throwing this away? I'll take them, and I'll pay you extra money for them," and, "I'll pay you extra money if you won't let the zucchini get this big, and if you'll sell it to me when it's smaller,” and, “I will pay you extra money if you'll cut it with a blossom still on it.” It represented a radical shift in consciousness. Small farmers like us, aided by small seed companies like Johnny’s, began seeking out flavorful interesting vegetables and fruits. 

Green Market really was part of that, and I came to this farm — I'm sitting here at Breezy Hill, we call Breezy Hill Orchard the home farm — Breezy Hill Orchard is a founding farm of Green Market and Union Square and many, many other farmers markets. It's a 40-acre orchard with about 22 acres of fruit. Breezy Hill  was already growing 40 or 50 varieties of apples when I came here, plus peaches, plums, pears, cherries and berries. This 19th century farm has survived because it had not yet been demolished for housing. It was an anachronism. So there were still Baldwins, Gravensteins, Yorks, Winesaps, Spies and Russets, and all these heirloom and historic varieties that everybody else had ripped out in favor of Red Delicious and Golden Delicious. We found markets for this great fruit.

It now seems like, “Of course, it's so obvious,” but I think people don't realize how very different it was when we were in that period where everything was packaged, food was sold in a supermarket, everything had to be sold as cheaply as possible. Most farmers weren't convinced that there were markets for “oddball” produce — we had to re-establish markets, we had to build those markets, and then we had to kind of show people that they could do wonderful things with sour cherries, for example, or rhubarb.

I remember we used to make a lot of pesto. We grew a lot of certified organic basil. I remember I had an agriculture inspector come to our farm and say, "You can't sell that. I don't get it. What is it? It's crushed up herbs and olive oil. It doesn't seem safe."

I was in a farmers market in the early days selling cheese from Jonathan White (Bobolink Dairy). He had asked us to take his cheese to market, and we were happy to do it. And his cheese is  ripened with wonderful rinds. The Health Department Inspector made me take it off the table and he said to me, "That cheese is moldy.” And I said, "Yeah, people pay $20 a pound for that mold. They pay extra for that mold." So there was this gap between the kind of industrial highly packaged, sterile food system — there was a collision or clash of values between the industrial food systems and the artisanal local food system. Now there's more flexibility, a lot more understanding. 

Video courtesy of Breezy Hill Orchard 

Let's say that that collision... I would have guessed took about 20 years to iron out?

Yeah, yeah. 

Even now — I’m making these beautiful pet-nat ciders. We're doing a lot of them. I've been doing authentic natural ciders since, probably, '97. I studied cider making in England first, and later in France. I was taught to do tight filtrations, inoculate, wild yeast was considered "bad, very bad," and you had to kill it and get rid of it, even in the early days, and then you had to sulfite it, and you had to filter the hell out of it. But I made many study trips and sought out the traditional cider makers. I was very lucky to have been mentored by Richard Sheppy and Julian Temperley, among others. We always made ciders that we called “scrumpy,” which is an English term of art. You, of all people know, what scrumpy means! So I started making a lovely farmhouse scrumpy that was really a pet-nat in many ways. It was unfiltered and unsulfited and beautiful, and had all the good stuff in it, and aromatic and just delicious. But people were afraid of it. Even restaurants didn't understand it because it wasn't predictable. It wasn't the same all the time. My distributors couldn’t handle it.  

It wasn't sanitized, yeah.

It wasn't sanitized, and it was unstable. Perish the thought! 

So we spend a lot of time trying to get people to be in the moment. That these are living beverages that should be enjoyed in their moment. Like a ripe pear. And this is the story of ripened cheese. This is the story of sourdough bread. This is the story of natural ciders and natural wines. I could go on and on. 

It's very poignant, but I was recently at a lovely event, and they were trying to do a farm to table dinner, they had outsourced it to a caterer. And at the end of the meal, they brought out some nice desserts, and they had the ever-present big generic strawberries on them, and the big, probably Chilean, grapes. I didn't want to say anything, I didn't want to diss the caterer, if you follow me — people work so hard — but I thought, here I am and they don't even know on a certain level, I don't want to say it's insulting to me, but it is a little bit poignant. I thought, here I am, they could have done an amazing compote of fruit. We still have pears and apples. They could have done something different and interesting, but they don't have that vocabulary. And so they still are in the, I'll call it a 1950s mindset, of what do they have to present? This is one of these things that hits my hot button: why is it that people think they have to still have the big flavorless strawberry at every wedding, at every party, and that's almost this iconic thing? So we still have work to do, a lot of work.

I think that so much of that work has to be done by catering teams and chefs when you are engaging the client to not compromise. I had a very similar experience recently where somebody chose to do grilled stone fruit. But we don't have stone fruit in season, and they're not going to be in season for a while. And we weren't the caterer, but it's the point at which the caterer needs to be like, "This is what we can do. And by not doing this, you're supporting a food system that is actually damaging our planet." There's just so much better that one can do in the moment, and while you are all doing the work, we need to be your representation, human-facing, to be like that's just not the story right now in the nicest, kindest possible way through this education process. Nobody feels lesser than or smaller through their personal choices. And stone fruit are phenomenal, but not right now. 

And I'll tease that point out a little bit more. So we grow a lot of stone fruit, we do a bunch of markets, and we tree ripen. Tree ripening is an incredible art and it's a challenge because peaches, I always say they're almost like bananas. They go from being too hard to past ripe very quickly depending on the temperaties, it can happen in 48 hours. Or even in 12 hours — it can happen that quickly. And so we have the luxury to pick fruit, and we're pretty fanatical about it. I have a bad habit: I always let the fruit hang too long because I want the fruit to be really good. Then we take it to New York, it's only two to three hours away, but it has to bump down there in the truck and, by the end of the day on a Saturday, we will take peaches that were perfect on Friday, and they will be so bruised and so overripe by the end of the Saturday market. So now we can talk about all this added value.  We always swore we weren't gonna waste anything. We would bring that fruit home and we would turn it into a pie, make a jam, we would puree it. We used to sell peach nectar for years in the markets, but it had such a short shelf life. Even pureeing peaches and taking it back to the market, maybe you have a day. The other thing about being able to do that is flavor. Of course when you have the luxury, wherever you are, to be close to your market, whatever your market is, you can shorten that and then you don't have to make the same terrible compromises as big growers. 

So that stone fruit, I'll pick on that stone fruit, which probably if they had out of season stone fruit it might have been from Chile or someplace with a completely different climate, it would have had to be picked pretty damn hard because they can't get it up here. You and I understand this phenom very well of what you have to do to get things to markets thousands of miles away. Jim Hightower, back in about 1975, wrote Hard Tomatoes, Hard Times about the decline of being able to buy good tomatoes because they had to be grown far away, hard as rocks, and shipped. 

The difference now is we have this tremendous influx of people who love food, who want to be part of it. We have lost a lot of our traditional growers, but we also have a lot of legacy farm families where the kids have come home. They've come back to the fifth, sixth, seventh generation farm. I have a very particular love for that community, and respect, as you know. And we also have all kinds of folks that have a PhD from Yale or they're aspiring actors or they're creative and maybe they have a garden, maybe they have a two acre market garden. Maybe they actually want to farm, really farm, for a living. Sometimes they have capital. Capital, historically, is terribly, terribly hard for people to get in agriculture — there was a point at which Farm Credit wouldn't even loan money to organic farmers; they were considered too risky. They could lose their crops. That has changed; they will happily loan money to anybody who looks like they already have money, who looks like a good credit risk. So we have a lot of innovation and we have a lot of added value. We have an explosion  of small scale or mid scale farming and innovation happening in the Hudson Valley right now. And that, to me, is incredibly fascinating. 

We're starting a farmers market at the farm this year, and we have some really interesting people, some people who are shut out of the conventional farmers market because they're not always growers. So, for example, we have an amazing meat guy but he doesn't raise the meat — he sources grass fed and local, and his business is actually called Meat Things, Inc. He's doing charcuterie and whole animal, nose to tail, butchering. So we have a lot of these kinds of folks doing really special things. But I am still seeing the rising cost of property is a huge barrier for anybody who wants to farm.

I would imagine it's a double edged sword.

I feel quite excited at seeing the influx of curriculum that's now hitting different universities around agriculture, farming, and environmentalism — it's all sort of this commonality of theme coming through which is amazing, and I'm sure it's incredibly inspiring, and people can see this back to the Earth movement. 

But without people like yourself, who experientially can make that transition be a long term transition rather than "finish my degree, have some access to cash, going to buy land, gonna farm, four years in, this is shit, this is hard, I have no generic like DNA wisdom, although I could develop that and therefore pass it down generationally," it really takes people like you, your community, farm hub, to make this play if it's not a generational play, like if it's not people coming back six, seven generations in, to make it actually super viable and last, and not just a trend.

So I have to tell you a funny story. There was an older founding grower. He's not at Green Market anymore. Frank Stiles, he was a pretty gruff guy, from Southern Jersey, big veg grower, and he was right across from us at Union Square. And we didn't totally click because I'm guessing that we never would vote for the same people. I think politically he was way on the other side of where I was, but we had a relationship and he was among the many farmers that mentored me and he used to come in and kind of tweak me, but every spring, we'd come back and he'd say, "Well, what did you learn last year? What happened?" And, of course, we think about that all the time. You know, was it hot? Was it cold? Did you have a big crop? Did you lose some of the crop? "What did you learn?," he used to say to me, and I would tell him. It was like a little bit of a test. He would push me.

What a great question, period. 

Yeah. And then he said, "If I ever ask you that question, and you say 'nothing,' you should give up farming." He said, "I've been farming my whole life, my father farmed, but you never, you never stop learning about your farm, the crops, how they respond to the environment," and it's not a soundbite. 

It's the combination of life as you're living it, and the fact that you're living with a living organism. You're living with a living, breathing organism that isn't an inanimate object that exists within four walls. 

What do you think it is about your personal characteristics in addition to this, something that you love so deeply? What is it about the resilience of staying in the unpredictability of it all? Because it is unpredictable. 

There are a lot of farmers that just say it's an addiction. It's an addiction, it's a positive addiction, it's an addiction to the adrenaline, and I've heard farmers describe it many different ways, but it really boils down to that same question. It's an adventure, it's a journey. And you get to see it, right? It's never about instant gratification, but it's so rewarding when you get it right, when it all clicks in, and even when it doesn't. There's a lot of folklore and jokes in the farming community about farmers and gambling and the ways you can spend your money: you can go to Vegas or you can just plant corn, right? Stories get told with a lot of juicy details. I'm not very good at telling those kinds of jokes, but they all revolve around these kinds of themes. 

I think resilience is partly from who you are, it's how you're raised. Now a lot of people are not resilient in agriculture, a lot of people get depressed, they struggle. I think traditional growers feel isolated sometimes. In my family there were many people that wanted to leave the farm — they didn't see it as rewarding. When we bought this farm, my mother was very, very opposed to it. She said to me — literally one of her great quotes is, "Your grandparents worked their fingers to the bone, and I couldn't wait to get away, and your father and I've worked hard so you could go to an Ivy League university, and you are throwing it away because you could do anything, and you could be anything." And a lot of farmers, their goal is to get their kids off the farm, to get a reliable job, to get a good job. 

So, I think there's been a shift, and I think that people who are farming now, my colleagues, they're like me, they're into it. They want to do it. So it's a beautiful time of reaffirmation for a lot of people, and I think you get tested every single year. Are you breaking rocks, or are you building a castle? It's not for everybody and that's okay. 

If I look at European models, for example, there's much more of a reward system and support for farming in England, in France, in Holland, in Germany, financially, with access to land. It's not perfect, but also, there are these traditional agrarian extended families, or co-ops, or larger groups of people, so that it's not this American kind of, you know, the white guy and his wife and his two kids that's kind of the American way, and they are isolated out there. 

Field of Dreams is still one of my favorite movies. I just love that movie. That was the guy who was losing his shirt, but he had a dollar and a dream; he didn't even have a dollar, and he manifested. That movie is about a lot of other things. But if you're a farmer and you see that movie, it's a very sweet movie. 

I don't have a crystal ball. We haven't talked about climate change. Climate change is a serious concern. I'm continuing to diversify. If I had a wish list, I would wish that we all could put together a huge pool of capital and buy every goddamn farm in the Hudson Valley and repopulate them with all these wonderful people who want to farm. People are trying to do this, of course, there are programs and young farmers. And I don't think it's just about young farmers, it's farmers of all ages who want to give themselves up to this, and it's about farm retention.

The other thing that this old farmer used to say to me, and I think he meant it as a metaphor in some ways religiously, but I took it as a different kind of metaphor and it used to annoy me because I was young and cocky.  He’d say, "Just remember Elizabeth, you're not in charge."

Wow. 

That always hit me, and I was kind of like, "What do you mean? Is that an insult?" Did it mean that I was too arrogant, or that I should go to church more often? People say these things to you. And it is really, really, really true. On a certain level, you have to give yourself to it. 

Yeah, yeah, surrender.

You have to embrace it, whether it's the weather or whether it's what you're growing, and you have to listen to it. 

Or whether it's a lesson, yeah.

There is a lot of ego and, even in modern agriculture, the ego is about crushing and breaking and taming and fighting. Farming 2,500 acres and doing all this shit, adding the nitrogen, it's not very holistic, a lot of scaled American agriculture — I think that's probably the understatement of the interview, but it's not very holistic. And I have tried to understand, what are the root elements? What are the root causes of that? And I think it has to do with capital and capitalism, and the need for instant gratification. And, you know, markets. 

So I have spent my life trying to break that down in the simplest way just at the level that I can handle. Maybe not in Washington, I did that for a while, but in my community, in my town, in my markets, with our employees, with the people who live and work at the farm. We have a lot of legacy. 

We're building a house right now for Martin [Farm Manager] and Christina [Kitchen Manager] because they've worked here for 25 years and they need a house. And those are intangible things that can happen on these farms. It isn't just about the delicious apples or the peaches. It's got to be about the whole social, biological ecosystem.

Sure, and you've been a representation, or what you've created, being a representation of the antithesis of what we are taught as humans to chase. You know, whether I'm having this conversation with you, or whether two hours ago I'm having this conversation with a chef from Oaxaca, what one is taught to chase societally is what is sort of creating the degradation of exactly the work that you're doing and I'm hoping that more communication and more conversation around this just brings it more and more into our topics of dinner conversations, breakfast conversations, staff employee trainings, just worldwide. 

And while, of course, I think that's a very grandiose statement to make, I would love this format of communicating with you, while it can't be in person in this moment, to continue because I think that the totality of who you are, in all your forms, whether it's your love of Bulgarian folk music or your love of apples, I think it all makes up the human that is prepared to take a stand and is prepared to fight for and is prepared to love so passionately and so deeply what is really the legacy that needs to be left for everybody. 

I'm honored. 

Breezy Hill Orchard Market Report from Elizabeth Ryan:

Strawberries have been amazing this year. I prefer the intensity of small berries over large ones. We are making strawberry scrumpy and yeast donuts filled with homemade jam. Now is the time of great abundance. Cherries are peaking. Blueberries are just coming in. We have a few amazing heirloom yellow cherries from 100-year-old trees. We just started picking plums but there will be an avalanche of plums throughout July. They are one of the most under appreciated fruits in America. Summer red and white currants are starting. And peaches are thinking about it. Two weeks and we will be rolling. So far the weather’s been good, so fingers crossed it’s not over until it’s in the basket!

Read Part I of Elizabeth Ryan’s conversation here.

By Avery Jones / Introduction by Chef Jenn Sills

I, Jenn Sills, am a domestic cheese fanatic; American Cheese Ambassador is a title I will gladly answer to — spread the word! Naturally, I receive a box of cheese in the mail every month and this is where I got my first taste of Shooting Star Creamery; a wedge of Sagittarius that blew my mind and my tastebuds! Little crystals give it an amazing texture and yet it still finishes with a creamy and nutty sweetness. The story of Shooting Star is equally as sweet; starting as the passion project of a teenager with a background in the California cheese game — I hope to be that cool when I get younger.  

Born in Modesto, California, the heart of California cheese country, it’s hard for me to remember life before cheese. In my youth, my dad shared his dream of opening his own dairy, and my six-year-old self tagged along, hoping to catch a ride on his delivery cart. A few years later, we moved to Templeton for Dad to fulfill his dairy dreams. At a young age, I was helping to cut and package cheese we produced in the facility. 

I grew close with my dad and creamery staff as I transitioned to my new life in Templeton. Many people on staff, a team of mostly women, became mentors and friends, inspiring me to continue making cheese. 

As the dairy grew and the company matured, my role there changed. I was in high school when Dad and I hatched a plan for me to make cheese on my own terms. We decided I would start my own cheese company, apart from my father’s, where I could learn how to make cheese and experiment with new styles. This allowed me to take risks with recipes, to explore my creativity, and to have my dad as my mentor. 

Over the dinner table, my family and I brainstormed ideas for this new company. What would it be called? What would make it unique? Eventually, I settled on the name Shooting Star Creamery, to reflect my passion for stargazing and the idea of “shooting for the stars.” 

Soon after, my dad and I researched to see where there might be room for new types of cheese in the American cheese market. We noted that there weren’t many sheep milk cheeses made domestically, and that most were coming from Europe. In response, I created Aries, a basque style cheese reminiscent of the famous Ossau Iraty, with a firm paste and nutty flavors. 

On a whim, I entered Aries into the 2019 American Cheese Society, to receive feedback from other professionals on my cheese. To my surprise and delight, Aries placed third overall in the competition! 

I was abroad when I heard the news about Aries, and upon returning to the states found myself, a 15-year-old high schooler, overwhelmed by interview requests. 

Due to the sudden attention Aries had given the company, I took the opportunity to give back to my community. My family has a long military history and after reading the book my great grandfather wrote about his time in World War II, I decided I would use the sudden influx of funds to give back to an organization called AmpSurf. AmpSurf is a program that helps veterans and people living with disabilities rehab through surfing and other outdoor activities. 

I’m in college now, and since launching Shooting Star I have expanded my line to include three additional cheeses: Leo, Sagittarius, and Scorpio. Founding Shooting Star has been a unique and special journey. I’ve learned things not taught in school, honed a creative craft, connected more deeply with my community, and strengthened my family bonds. My motto is to shoot for the stars — it worked for me!

By Sam Rogers 

Welcome to True Summer (c), but most importantly welcome to the real deal stone fruit season. Every week farmers come to the market with new varieties of beautiful peaches and plums, nectarines and apricots. It can be overwhelming to know how to pick just the right ones. What are the tricks of the trade?

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By Mere Abrams 

Growing up in the Midwest, in an area populated predominantly by white cisgender people in heterosexual relationships, I quickly picked up on the fact there was a particular way of presenting and being that was considered acceptable, which came in the form of blending in. Standing out was only a good thing if you excelled at reinforcing gender norms and sex-based stereotypes. At the young age of 5, I recognized the things that I gravitated toward didn't match the choices of my peers that were assigned the same gender.

Looking back on this time, I do not recall my gender non-conformity being a real choice — it's just what felt right and was appealing to me. But the messages I received from society led me to see this in-born trait as something to be tolerated and that I was expected to outgrow. So that's precisely what I tried to do as puberty ensued. Based on what I saw around me, I understood the task of adolescence as a time to learn how to embody socially-praised versions of my assumed gender. Little did I know that focusing my energy here would lead me down a path in the opposite direction of self-understanding. If I could go back and tell my younger self one thing, it would be that the tasks of childhood and adolescence are to develop skills, relationships, and knowledge that allow you to figure out who you are and what you're passionate about — and all of the options are on the table, no matter what labels or descriptors society attaches to them.

I allowed the labels society attached to the things to deter me from what felt right to me for far too long. Due to the repressive gender norms and stereotypes that surrounded my childhood, it wasn't until my 20s that I mustered up the guts to finally wear the underwear and clothing that allowed me to show up in the world more authentically and find a sense of congruence in my gender and presentation. When I first began wearing underwear and clothing that affirmed my gender, it felt as if I was putting a puzzle together, and these were crucial pieces I'd been missing since childhood. I felt a new sense of comfort in my skin and confidence in how I looked.

For most of us (on most days), one of the first things we do when getting dressed involves putting on underwear — especially if planning to leave the house. This small act can set the tone for the day ahead. It's a moment to connect with your body, consider what's on the schedule (as well as the weather), and ask yourself how you're feeling. This all informs what we ultimately decide to wear on a given day. It's how we express ourselves and want to show up in the world. For some, getting dressed is somewhat subconscious, while it's incredibly conscious for others. For some, getting dressed is enjoyable, while it's a daily challenge or struggle for others. Given the time we spend and the frequency at which we as humans engage in the practice of getting dressed, perhaps we should treat it as an intentional ritual through which we affirm our sense of self, our values, and how we want to show up in the world. Each layer becomes a chance to honor how you feel and who you are on a given day. But that would only be possible if we all had the options we needed and deserved. At Urbody, we create those options for people of all genders and identities. Urbody is gender-affirming underwear and activewear brand that designs gender-inclusive collections by and for the LBGTQ+ community that address the fit, functionality, and style needs of those across the gender spectrum. Urbody created its own sizing and grading system built to fit trans, non-binary, and gender-nonconforming folks. We all deserve to get dressed for the day with confidence, and that starts with what's underneath.

By Joey Morelli 

I am a Transgender Queer Man with an indigenous spirit who is a retired Law Enforcement Officer and 911 World Trade Center First Responder. While I was a Law Enforcement Officer, being transgender was still considered a psychological disorder, so I had to wait to fully transition until I was 54 years old. In my retirement I found my second career of being a writer, activist, public speaker and educator for all marginalized people, but especially for my transgender and non-binary siblings. It became my passion to help employers, church leaders and congregations, group facilitators and families to understand the importance of intersectionality and creating safe space for my siblings. I have learned to use different art forms to share our journeys so you can see us as human and we can recognize each others humanity. I am currently working on two projects. I wrote my transition journey story, which I will be one of many, for a Trans/Non-Binary Book organized by Family Diversity Projects and will be published in the fall by Skinner House. I also am a co-organizer for a Two Spirit photo/art show being showcased in New York, California and Chiapas, Mexico. I have lived a very private life up to this point so I am not on social media but many friends and colleagues are encouraging me to make that change. I am skeptical.

Happy Pride!! This year after two years of virtual gatherings millions of LGBTQIA2S+ folx and their allies will take it to the streets. Images of people marching, chanting and partying around the world will be posted on social media creating a sense of solidarity and oneness. For some it will be their first time to be seen, heard and affirmed. Marchers and spectators will feel the rush of electricity and passion of the day's events. They may even meet that special someone, at least for the weekend. Oh, what thrilling times and fond memories!!!

However, each of us will wake up on Monday morning, to return to work, school, family and the stark reality that past and current anti-LGBTQIA legislation and hate rhetoric continue to threaten our sense of security and violate our human dignity in every aspect of our lives. The conservative legislators and the religious right of this country passed 175 Bills in 32 states this year in an attempt to villainize and eradicate us. I know there is more coming and it breaks my heart. As a Trans Queer man who is an activist, public speaker, coach, writer, and educator I ask myself frequently what is my responsibility and role in offering hope, creating change and safe space for my siblings. What amazes me is that the universe always hears me and places amazing visionaries in my path to collaborate and partner with. Each of these visionaries understands the intersectionality of marginalized communities and is committed to creating human-human connection among all people. They use different art forms to share my siblings' stories to create visibility to ensure our seat at the table in all of the different communities we show up in.  

One of these visionaries I met in March of 2021 was Shelley Armistead, CEO/Partner of the Gjelina Group, in Venice California. She called me to help create a welcoming environment and educate her restaurant staff on different aspects of the transgender/nonbinary community. Shelley and Lucy Cogswell-Stewart, Director of Operations for the Gjelina Group, and myself created a program called LGBTQIA2S+ Inclusion in the Workplace: Creating Safe Space. I along with two other trainers offered this education both in English and Spanish. We trained almost 400 staff members. The staff's willingness to share and positive attitudes helped facilitate much needed transparent conversation. I look forward to future collaborations with the Gjelina Group.  Shelley in her brilliant intentionality introduced me to Mere Abrams and Anna Graham of Urbody, two more visionaries that I can only describe as extraordinary humans. Mere also plans to share their story in Gjournals for Pride, so please DO NOT miss it. I hope to bring Mere with their vast knowledge in on the training team at Gjelina. Please stay tuned as all 5 of us, Shelley, Lucy, Mere, Anna and myself collaborate to bring you an evening of transgender/nonbinary awareness in the fall of 2022 both in California and New York.

We are living in a time that demands us to recognize the intersectionality of all humans and the importance of accomplices/allies. Thank you, Shelley, Lucy, Anna and Mere for giving me hope and making me a better human.

Until we meet again, Stay Safe and Stand in Hope!!!!

- Jozeppi Angelo Morelli aka Joey, he/him/his