My (solar) return to California
Plus, a salad recipe to delight and pleasure the senses.
Hello to all 70+ of you who subscribed since I debuted this newsletter!
I don’t think I’ve properly discussed what the purpose of this newsletter is because I’m figuring it out too. As briefly as I can, let’s talk about why we’re here before I get to the meatier parts of an (admittedly long) second edition of the Rad Joy newsletter:
First and foremost, I run Radical Joy Bakery, which is my main bread and butter. This newsletter will serve as a way to alert or remind you of events I have in the pipeline, as well as share any conceptual and structural changes I make to the business as I navigate this very difficult and wild time for food businesses.
Paid subscribers will occasionally receive recipes, original art, and things I’ve chosen not to release onto the M*ta platform which I’ve become so dependent on and also happens to serve an egotistical billionaire. I share these things with paid subscribers as a token of my appreciation to those folks for supporting my labor, which I hope will eventually help sustain me, so that this work continues to be accessible to everyone else.
Now, onto the main driving force behind the newsletter: many people have asked me to put some referential/more permanent structure around my written works. I’ve been told that what I write about deserves a home. So, what will I write about? I have spent a lifetime navigating, questioning, fighting, being excluded from, and yes, sometimes participating in systems that have often felt suffocating, unjust, and oppressive. And yet, I have also managed to lean into community and love in the many places I’ve lived, found the beauty in a sort of transient domesticity, and cultivated an appreciative and curious perspective towards life and living. The culmination of my life experiences, professional trajectories, and formal studies of creative writing, philosophy, critical theory, and pastry has me uniquely positioned to discuss topics that affect key aspects of our daily lives. In this newsletter, I want to critically explore food, identity, history, power, and pleasure. Thanks for joining me on this ride.
Reclaiming my relationship to home / thoughts on my (solar) return
Last week, I embarked on a journey back to the Bay Area, where I had previously lived for 7 years before I relocated to New Orleans, and now, Chicago. I had many reservations about going back tied in with finances, pandemic anxiety, and a culture which I remembered had grown increasingly more capitalist, racially homogenous, and performatively liberal.
California is my home state, and I don’t shy away from telling people it is not the paradise it seems to be. It is not anti-racist. The dominant California culture is shaped by policies that favor white supremacy and capitalism via the type of symbolic violence that grinds marginalized people down every day if they are not willing to submit to upholding the status quo. Sometimes, policies like forming sanctuary cities look progressive from the outside, but in fact, policies such as this benefit the state’s economy as a whole, as many industries rely so heavily on the underpaid labor of undocumented migrant people who are also forced to pay high taxes to the state.
Let’s take a breath. That was a lot. I needed to lay the groundwork, and I promise it’s not all bad. I mean, there are not many places in the U.S. where you can casually buy nopal paddles at a sidewalk market and find a whole field full of nasturtiums just brightly basking in the sun. Being amidst California’s undeniable natural beauty and witnessing the decadent bounty of its fruits and vegetables was truly breathtaking.
This trip back home really grounded me and reminded me of who I am and the California history that has put me on the path to being who I am today. Radical groups like the Black Panthers, Desi activists, and revolutionary Filipinx farm workers have instilled in me a sense of rebellion, community care, and solidarity that shape how I see the world and the decisions that I make.
Now, let’s get to the food. On this trip home, I was able to revisit one of my favorite places — Berkeley Bowl, a Japanese-owned, independently-run grocery store boasting one of the most extensive produce selections in the world (you might have seen it featured on Samin Nosrat’s Netflix special, “Salt Fat Acid Heat”). This place is a true delight for an Epicurean-obsessed, Taurus-born person such as myself — the smells of freshly ground coffee beans, parmesan, and melons, sounds of bulk nuts and grains cascading out of their containers and rippling hurriedly against the plastic bag in cupped hands, the saturated colors of immaculately displayed vegetables, and the unctuous juiciness of fruit like a California-grown strawberry bursting into my mouth — it is almost, just almost too much. For me, food is so deeply and truly a sensual experience. It literally nourishes our bodies.
I gave myself just shy of 3 hours to shop for, develop a menu around, and cook for a coursed meal for 6 friends. At the end of it all, I was seduced by the overwhelmingly fresh variety of leafy greens and local seafoods and wines the store had to offer. I’d end up making a colorful salad (recipe shared at the end of this post), aioli dressed green cauliflower, and a generous cioppino with toasted local sourdough.
I didn’t know I’d feel this way. But the act of cooking for others — alone in a foreign kitchen, with the sumptuous selection I had just enthusiastically and lovingly selected — was the best part of my birthday. It made me feel most whole.
I love my friends, but I admit, there was something about being in there, just me, listening to Chicago house music while I fired up the dutch oven, chopped up radicchio, and sipped on Sauvignon Blanc was the respite and satisfaction I truly needed after a very busy, exhausting, and complicated 2 years of so much transition.
I am only 32, but if you know me, you know that I have lived through very many things in this body, yet I haven’t always been great at understanding my own limitations and pouring back into myself. I feel immeasurable gratitude and achievement in the wisdom I’ve gained about what brings me joy and my ability to help myself feel safe and at home. To be in that kitchen, with that food, alone… I felt the most abundant, self-attuned, and self-loving I’ve felt in a very long time. I felt like me.
Although I initially dreaded going back to California, and felt conflicted and hurt by the memories and realities of what it was like to live there before my departure, in a way, this trip was very healing. I remembered that no matter how aggressively some people and policies will try to gatekeep and exclude people like me from taking part in what they think is their paradise, that earth and ocean and beauty and bounty are meant for everyone. I reclaimed my right to existing and thriving in that space I call one of my homes. I belong there. It took me this long to see that.
Thank you for reading, and please excuse the fact that I have no editors. Again, it’s just me here. And I’m doing my best and humbly hoping that is enough.
-V
Northern California Bounty
Salad Recipe (serves 3-6)
Everyone gets this recipe, because it’s my gift to you for my 32nd year around the sun. I tried to make the ingredient list more accessible by being flexible about certain things that are easily substituted. Swap them out at your convenience or for your dietary needs. The suggestions/substitions help the recipe become gluten-free, nut-free, alcohol-free, and vegan. <3
Ingredients List
1/2 c of almond, walnuts, hazelnuts
Or pepitas (nut-free)
1 head little gems lettuce, torn or chopped
1 head butter lettuce, torn or chopped
1 head radicchio, sliced thin
2-3 radish heads, sliced thin (you can save the tops for a sauté or turn them into pesto or ghormeh sabzi)
1/2 bunch of cilantro, dill, or basil, coarsely chopped
1/2 c/4 oz. of pecorino romano or parmesan cheese
Or furikake or toasted sesame seeds (DF/vegan)
1 shallot, minced
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
1/2 c extra virgin olive oil
1/4 c rice wine vinegar
Or apple cider vinegar (alcohol-free)
A splash of a dry, bright and juicy red wine (I used Mourvèdre, you could use Cabernet Sauvignon, or Merlot)
Or dark soy sauce (alcohol-free)
Or tamari sauce (gluten-free)
2 tbsp honey mustard
Alternatively, 1/2 tbsp honey + 1 1/2 tbsp dijon mustard
Liberal cracks of freshly cracked black pepper
A pinch or two of kosher salt, to taste
Optional: 5-6 nasturtium or pansy flowers
Instructions
Preheat oven to 350 F. Place nuts/seeds on a tray with parchment paper or a silicone mat. Drizzle with a tiny bit of olive oil and a pinch of salt. Bake until browned, about 5-10 minutes. Take out and let cool.
Wash your leafy greens (little gems, butter, radicchio) and let them dry in a colander. Grab a big bowl. Tear, chop, or slice the leafy greens and throw them in the big bowl. Mix them around with your hands or big tongs (or chopsticks!) until they appear more distributed.
Slices your radishes into thin coins. Separate your herbs of choice from their stems, then coarsely chop. Coarsely chop your cooled nuts. Set aside in separate bowls/plates.
Set your cheese or furikake/sesame seeds aside.
Mince shallots and garlic as finely as you can, but don’t sweat it. Set them in a medium sized bowl.
Mix the rest of your ingredients into the bowl (except the flowers) with the shallots and garlic, whisking together well. Adjust seasonings to your taste.
Dress the salad by pouring half onto it and coating well by tossing with utensils or gloved hands. Pour the other half of the dressing on top and toss again.
Serve on a plate by piling the salad as high as you can, using your non-dominant palm as a backboard for the leafy greens.
Garnish the salad with radish coins, herbs, chopped nuts/seeds, and flowers (you can pluck the petals off and distribute them all over the plate).
Finish the salad by microplaning cheese on top, or sprinkling furikake or toasted sesame seeds on top.
