Joy Santlofer. Food City: Four Centuries of Food-Making in New York. WW Norton, 2016 (publication date: November 1)
I wrote the Foreword to this book:
When Jonathan Santlofer asked me to write a few words of introduction to Food City, written by his late wife, Joy, I felt sad but honored. Joy, my friend and colleague at New York University, died unexpectedly in 2013, leaving this book—her life’s work—to be completed posthumously by grieving family and friends.
Food City is a tribute to the memory of a wonderful person, but it is also a very good book, standing easily on its own as a welcome contribution to food history and to the field of food studies. In her work at NYU, first as a master’s student and later on our faculty, Joy discovered evidence of New York City’s food manufacturing past and began writing about this largely unexplored topic. She published her discoveries as short pieces that formed the basis of this book and also of her work as editor of the journal of the Culinary Historians of New York.
For those of us who use food to explore the most pressing social, environment…
Joy Santlofer. Food City: Four Centuries of Food-Making in New York. WW Norton, 2016 (publication date: November 1)
I wrote the Foreword to this book:
When Jonathan Santlofer asked me to write a few words of introduction to Food City, written by his late wife, Joy, I felt sad but honored. Joy, my friend and colleague at New York University, died unexpectedly in 2013, leaving this book—her life’s work—to be completed posthumously by grieving family and friends.
Food City is a tribute to the memory of a wonderful person, but it is also a very good book, standing easily on its own as a welcome contribution to food history and to the field of food studies. In her work at NYU, first as a master’s student and later on our faculty, Joy discovered evidence of New York City’s food manufacturing past and began writing about this largely unexplored topic. She published her discoveries as short pieces that formed the basis of this book and also of her work as editor of the journal of the Culinary Historians of New York.
For those of us who use food to explore the most pressing social, environment…
Is your mind is too full of thoughts? Do you think you can’t meditate?
This month we are excited to bring Tammy Steele back to ZenRock Fitness for her meditation workshop. Her last class sold-out – don’t miss your chance to take this class!
You’ll learn how you can experience all of the health benefits from meditation – even if you have a busy mind! You will leave feeling confident that you can easily and effectively add meditation to your daily routine.
Saturday, November 5th at 2:00 pm
$35 per person
Ask your trainer how you can sign up today!
Is your mind is too full of thoughts? Do you think you can’t meditate?
This month we are excited to bring Tammy Steele back to ZenRock Fitness for her meditation workshop. Her last class sold-out – don’t miss your chance to take this class!
You’ll learn how you can experience all of the health benefits from meditation – even if you have a busy mind! You will leave feeling confident that you can easily and effectively add meditation to your daily routine.
Saturday, November 5th at 2:00 pm
$35 per person
Ask your trainer how you can sign up today!
I’d love for you to check it out and decide if it’s right for you! We’ll be showing you, step-by-step, how to gain complete control over your body, look like a gymnast, and perform like a Jedi — in your home or at the gym.
Remember Rule #1 of The Rebellion: “We don’t care where you came from, only where you’re going!” Young, old, big, small, male, female, or robot, the skills we’ll teach you in Rings and Handstands Superpack know no bounds, gender, age, or level of artificial intelligence.
I’d love for you to check it out and decide if it’s right for you! We’ll be showing you, step-by-step, how to gain complete control over your body, look like a gymnast, and perform like a Jedi — in your home or at the gym.
Remember Rule #1 of The Rebellion: “We don’t care where you came from, only where you’re going!” Young, old, big, small, male, female, or robot, the skills we’ll teach you in Rings and Handstands Superpack know no bounds, gender, age, or level of artificial intelligence.
This week’s recipe is an ode to innovation, problem-solving, and creativity. It’s a healthy take on an old standard, a new way of breathing life into a flavor profile with timeless allure: Ranch. Instead of sour cream or buttermilk, we use thick, creamy Greek yogurt. Instead of dried herbs, we go fresh: bright pops of color and flavor delivered in the tender leaves of dill, chives, and parsley.
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Bring this dip out at your next football snacking extravaganza, and watch it disappear in short order. Pure protein, clean olive oil, vibrant flavor. The perfect way innovation on what is far too ofte…
This week’s recipe is an ode to innovation, problem-solving, and creativity. It’s a healthy take on an old standard, a new way of breathing life into a flavor profile with timeless allure: Ranch. Instead of sour cream or buttermilk, we use thick, creamy Greek yogurt. Instead of dried herbs, we go fresh: bright pops of color and flavor delivered in the tender leaves of dill, chives, and parsley.
Share
Tweet
Plus
Pin
Bring this dip out at your next football snacking extravaganza, and watch it disappear in short order. Pure protein, clean olive oil, vibrant flavor. The perfect way innovation on what is far too ofte…
When I think of a yoga retreat, I see calm faces on happy bodies sitting in meditation poses in totally serene, tropical surroundings. Vegetarian meals are served family style and eaten in total silence. Morning sun is greeted with a strenuous vinyasa practice, sunset is celebrated with restorative poses and the sound of nature are always present. The participants sleep in cots in shared rooms with community bathrooms and no air conditioning…then I wake up screaming as all my clients run for the nearest door.
The traditional yoga retreat would not go over well for most of our clients at ZenRock, which is why our retreat structure more resemb…
When I think of a yoga retreat, I see calm faces on happy bodies sitting in meditation poses in totally serene, tropical surroundings. Vegetarian meals are served family style and eaten in total silence. Morning sun is greeted with a strenuous vinyasa practice, sunset is celebrated with restorative poses and the sound of nature are always present. The participants sleep in cots in shared rooms with community bathrooms and no air conditioning…then I wake up screaming as all my clients run for the nearest door.
The traditional yoga retreat would not go over well for most of our clients at ZenRock, which is why our retreat structure more resemb…
“It takes courage to endure the sharp pains of self-discovery rather than choose to take the dull pain of unconsciousness that would last the rest of our lives.” ~Marianne Williamson
“That boy is one in a million, Jill. He’s one in a million.”
These were my grandfather’s words to my mum about my brother, Mitch when he was just a kid. He really was one in a million—a light that shone so bright as a child and early teen, only to then fade into shadows of desperation and defeat as he grew into adulthood.
No one really knows what’s going on in someone else’s mind, especially when a person refuses to let you in. Mitch never let anyone in. On October 1st, 2002 he decided to leave at the age of twenty-six. We were one short on our team now. Our family puzzle was missing a vital piece.
That night, I woke up around 1am to my mum sitting at my bedside in her robe. She sobbed and said, “He was such a troubled, trouble soul.” Right then I knew what had happened.
I held my mum in an embrace that never wanted to end. And as the tsunami of shock and fear crashed over me, I prayed to God that this was all some bad nightmare I’d wake up from.
At the time, I thought my world had ended. Little did I kn…
“It takes courage to endure the sharp pains of self-discovery rather than choose to take the dull pain of unconsciousness that would last the rest of our lives.” ~Marianne Williamson
“That boy is one in a million, Jill. He’s one in a million.”
These were my grandfather’s words to my mum about my brother, Mitch when he was just a kid. He really was one in a million—a light that shone so bright as a child and early teen, only to then fade into shadows of desperation and defeat as he grew into adulthood.
No one really knows what’s going on in someone else’s mind, especially when a person refuses to let you in. Mitch never let anyone in. On October 1st, 2002 he decided to leave at the age of twenty-six. We were one short on our team now. Our family puzzle was missing a vital piece.
That night, I woke up around 1am to my mum sitting at my bedside in her robe. She sobbed and said, “He was such a troubled, trouble soul.” Right then I knew what had happened.
I held my mum in an embrace that never wanted to end. And as the tsunami of shock and fear crashed over me, I prayed to God that this was all some bad nightmare I’d wake up from.
At the time, I thought my world had ended. Little did I kn…
“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” ~Carl Jung
Three years ago I was on top of the world after realizing I had fallen in love with my best friend. Relationships this rare are beautiful, until one vital piece of them breaks down: clear communication.
Although I didn’t know it at the time, when my ex and I came together as a couple, rather than being in love, we were both just mirroring each other’s deep unconscious pain; his mother had walked out on him at a young age, and my mother had unconsciously shut me down emotionally at a similar time in my life due to her pain and frustration with the reality she had created.
I was not my most wise when I was with my ex, and I certainly wasn’t connected to my highest self. Instead, I was living from my mother’s pain, which I had taken on as my own. And I was putting undue amounts of pressure on my partner to step up and be the man I was waiting for him to be instead of accepting and loving him for the one he already was.
So many of us do this, but it’s not our fault. If our parents only …
“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” ~Carl Jung
Three years ago I was on top of the world after realizing I had fallen in love with my best friend. Relationships this rare are beautiful, until one vital piece of them breaks down: clear communication.
Although I didn’t know it at the time, when my ex and I came together as a couple, rather than being in love, we were both just mirroring each other’s deep unconscious pain; his mother had walked out on him at a young age, and my mother had unconsciously shut me down emotionally at a similar time in my life due to her pain and frustration with the reality she had created.
I was not my most wise when I was with my ex, and I certainly wasn’t connected to my highest self. Instead, I was living from my mother’s pain, which I had taken on as my own. And I was putting undue amounts of pressure on my partner to step up and be the man I was waiting for him to be instead of accepting and loving him for the one he already was.
So many of us do this, but it’s not our fault. If our parents only …
“No valid plans for the future can be made by those who have no capacity for living now.” ~Alan Watts
When I started kicking chairs at work, I knew things had gone too far.
I didn’t kick things when other people were around, and I thought it was the perfect way to release my anger. I could lash out with as much fury as I wanted, but I didn’t hurt anyone.
Why did I start kicking chairs? I’ll explain in a minute. But the truth was, I was hiding a bigger problem: I’ve spent much of my life hating myself.
When I was eight or nine years old, my mom asked if I was okay. She had heard me sobbing in the shower.
I told her I was furious at myself because I hadn’t been writing in my journal. I had skipped a few days, and a few days had turned into a few weeks, and now I was too far behind to catch up.
I was miserable. At nine years old, my life held no purpose because I hadn’t written in my journal for a month.
My mom comforted me, but I repeated the mistake countless times.
In my teens, I crafted a set of rules to lead me to perfection.
My plan was a sixteen-page document with eighty-four rules for th…
“No valid plans for the future can be made by those who have no capacity for living now.” ~Alan Watts
When I started kicking chairs at work, I knew things had gone too far.
I didn’t kick things when other people were around, and I thought it was the perfect way to release my anger. I could lash out with as much fury as I wanted, but I didn’t hurt anyone.
Why did I start kicking chairs? I’ll explain in a minute. But the truth was, I was hiding a bigger problem: I’ve spent much of my life hating myself.
When I was eight or nine years old, my mom asked if I was okay. She had heard me sobbing in the shower.
I told her I was furious at myself because I hadn’t been writing in my journal. I had skipped a few days, and a few days had turned into a few weeks, and now I was too far behind to catch up.
I was miserable. At nine years old, my life held no purpose because I hadn’t written in my journal for a month.
My mom comforted me, but I repeated the mistake countless times.
In my teens, I crafted a set of rules to lead me to perfection.
My plan was a sixteen-page document with eighty-four rules for th…
“I’m grateful for past betrayals, heartaches, and challenges… I thought they were breaking me; but they were sculpting me.” ~Steve Maraboli
I winced in pain as I climbed off the elliptical. This was one of the few times that I had ever set foot into a gym. And it was out of necessity rather than choice.
That necessity came from chronic lower back and leg pain, which I had been living with for the better part of six months. At the time, I didn’t know it would end up being just chronic, idiopathic pain.
All I knew was that it hurt, and I was limping with every step I took.
The pain had a definite impact on my quality of life.
For those first two years I could rarely sit for more than five minutes at a time, as a burning sensation would soon envelop my hip and thigh area, making it uncomfortable. The only way to alleviate the sensation was to stand. This was difficult for me, as I am an engineer who makes his living in front of the computer.
In my quest to get better I saw enough specialists to count on both hands. Because I lived in a small town, they were often two-and-a-half to three-and-a-half hours by car, one way! Imagine the challenges of trying to sit in a car for that long…
“I’m grateful for past betrayals, heartaches, and challenges… I thought they were breaking me; but they were sculpting me.” ~Steve Maraboli
I winced in pain as I climbed off the elliptical. This was one of the few times that I had ever set foot into a gym. And it was out of necessity rather than choice.
That necessity came from chronic lower back and leg pain, which I had been living with for the better part of six months. At the time, I didn’t know it would end up being just chronic, idiopathic pain.
All I knew was that it hurt, and I was limping with every step I took.
The pain had a definite impact on my quality of life.
For those first two years I could rarely sit for more than five minutes at a time, as a burning sensation would soon envelop my hip and thigh area, making it uncomfortable. The only way to alleviate the sensation was to stand. This was difficult for me, as I am an engineer who makes his living in front of the computer.
In my quest to get better I saw enough specialists to count on both hands. Because I lived in a small town, they were often two-and-a-half to three-and-a-half hours by car, one way! Imagine the challenges of trying to sit in a car for that long…
Five months into my relationship with my then-boyfriend, I found a single blister-like sore above the entrance to my vagina. It hurt so badly and was unlike anything I had seen on my body before, so I made an appointment with my doctor for the following day.
“The swab came back positive for genital herpes, type 1,” my doctor told me. I couldn’t breathe. I started crying. My brain was unable to process what had just happened.
“How!?” I asked through sobs. I knew nothing about herpes—just that it was incurable.
I did everything right when it came to sex. I routinely got tested for STIs. I made my partners use condoms. I had open and—as far as I knew—honest conversations with them about sexual health.
Which made me even more confused about my diagnosis. But then my doctor told me that a standard STI panel doesn’t include a herpes test. Many doctors don’t like to test for it unless you have a visible sore they can swab. (Editor’s…
Five months into my relationship with my then-boyfriend, I found a single blister-like sore above the entrance to my vagina. It hurt so badly and was unlike anything I had seen on my body before, so I made an appointment with my doctor for the following day.
“The swab came back positive for genital herpes, type 1,” my doctor told me. I couldn’t breathe. I started crying. My brain was unable to process what had just happened.
“How!?” I asked through sobs. I knew nothing about herpes—just that it was incurable.
I did everything right when it came to sex. I routinely got tested for STIs. I made my partners use condoms. I had open and—as far as I knew—honest conversations with them about sexual health.
Which made me even more confused about my diagnosis. But then my doctor told me that a standard STI panel doesn’t include a herpes test. Many doctors don’t like to test for it unless you have a visible sore they can swab. (Editor’s…
