#8: Queering F&B
The movers and shakers going off menu to find authentic flavor
Hiya readers, welcome back to Lunch Rush the official newsletter of Lunch Group 🌈 This month we’re exploring the theme of queering F&B. While it’s abundantly clear that food is political (thanks, Adam R*p*port), the notion that food can be queer is perhaps less familiar. As a category, “queer food” can be hard to define. It’s often less about the ingredients than the folks cooking it, though a queer chef does not necessarily queer food make. We’re also not particularly interested in shrouding everyday fare – be it bagels or layer cakes – in a rainbow veneer. To us, queer food is something more nuanced, blending radical politics with tongue in cheek details and a dash of camp, unafraid to get a little weird for the sake of authentic flavor. Queer food might also be understood through intentional spaces that are unapologetically inclusive – not just accommodating, but welcoming – treating all who come to eat as chosen family. It’s a vibe – a little flirty, a little fun, and often a little funny – complimented by a certain soundtrack and specific decor, swapping white tablecloths and background music for personal bric-à-brac and certified bops. In our experience (and it’s almost always an experience), it’s an exploration, an unpacking, and maybe even a critique of identity.
Now that we’ve whet your appetite, it’s our pleasure to serve up some colorful content, including an interview with Telly Justice by Jaime Wilson, a summer salad from none other than Woldy Reyes, a painting by Dianna Settles, and suggestions of all sorts from friends, collaborators, and folks queering our expectations of F&B at the table, in their communities, and throughout the broader hospitality industry.
*Sometimes email providers will clip the end of our messages due to size; be sure to click through for the full issue!*
Freshly Picked
Remember you can have what you ask for, ask for everything (free oranges taste sweetest) (2020) Acrylic, oil, pencil on panel 30x24 by Dianna Settles
Dianna Settles is a Vietnamese-American artist in Atlanta, Georgia who received her BFA from the San Francisco Art Institute in 2014. Her current work explores moments of joyful stillness amidst the cascading series of crises called modern life, accomplished through her synthesis of traditional Vietnamese and classical European painting styles. Recent exhibition highlights include a solo show titled Olly Olly Oxen Free at Institute 193 in Lexington, KY and a group show with Gerald Lovell and Jurell Cayetano at MINT in Atlanta. As the inaugural artist of Living Walls’ international exchange program, she completed the 180' long mural To Our Friends / Á Nos Amis in Paris, France in July of 2019, adding to her portfolio of work as a muralist in Atlanta, Oakland, and Pittsburgh. She was a finalist for the 2019 Forward Arts Foundation Edge Award, and was recently accepted into the Atlanta Contemporary Studio Artist Program. In addition to her own art practice, Dianna runs Hi-Lo Press & Gallery, a print studio and art gallery in Atlanta. In addition to her art practice, Dianna supports Defend the Atlanta Forest and SBC Print Collective.
Something to Chew On
Telly Justice & Jaime Wilson on “Coming Out, Being Queer, Finding Community, Having Potlucks”
Telly Justice (she/her) is the co-owner & executive chef of forthcoming restaurant HAGS, located in the East Village in Manhattan, and a freelance writer focusing on gender and food.
Jaime Wilson (they/she) is an interdisciplinary food creative. Jaime is currently working on At the Table, a hyper-seasonal publication and food space focusing on seasonality and sustainable food systems.
Jaime: How did you get into food? Was there a spark, or moment?
Telly: My parents are total non-food people. They can’t cook (sorry if you read this mom), so I grew up having no significant food memories. I didn’t consider cooking at all until I graduated high school and moved out. I landed a job my first week in this new city (Columbia, South Carolina) at this little café, with no skills whatsoever. The work just resonated with me. I started thinking about food in a different way – seeing it as a labor of emotional and sensitivity growth. I was learning how to be my own person [and] I was learning the skill, and the two felt very related to me. Food was something I was naturally excelling at, so as the years went by I just got deeper and deeper into the industry and this moment kind of emerged organically that was like... ‘well, this is what I’m going to do now.’ The rest is kind of history.
J: That’s the most frequent thing I hear, and I feel it too. I think it’s how so many of us kind of found ourselves here. It’s like... ‘huh, okay. I’m just going to do this now.’
T: It’s really a magnet for a certain kind of personality.
J: Absolutely. You said you don’t have any concrete food memories, has that changed at all? Is there now more of a crossover between personal and professional?
T: Totally. I think this is actually very relevant and significant to being trans and queer. When I left my hometown and I came out and everything, I really internalized this as like, ‘I’m going to be me now. I’m going to be who I am for the first time.’ I started having my most revelatory personal moments after evaluating who I wanted to be and who I was going to become as a trans person, as a queer person. I would say without a doubt all of my food memories really stem from that period of coming out, being queer, finding communities, having potlucks, celebrating partners’ birthdays… these became crucial, informative moments to me. I learned so much about food through these communal experiences.
When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I [also] participated in Food Not Bombs, a kind of communal food collective. Essentially, there are chapters all over the country [that] prepare meals and serve them for free in parks, mostly to queer people or houseless individuals, really anybody that needs a hot meal. I learned so much about food and about feeding people. Because I was having my formative food memories simultaneously, those two things are very intertwined to me.
J : Yeah. Beautifully intertwined
T: Beautifully. And like … can’t be un-intertwined.
J: And shouldn’t be!
T: In a lot of ways I learned more about food and feeding myself and feeding other people through those community spaces than I ever did working at Michelin starred restaurants.
J: So, looking into HAGS, what’s the vision? How are you tying all of that together?
T: HAGS is very personal to me and my partner, Camille. A lot of people have had plenty of criticisms about it as a business model, as a concept, but ultimately, the reason we’re opening HAGS is to create a space for ourselves where we can feel safe and do our work in a way that is emotionally manageable, in a way that we can sustain.
I hate using the phrase “tasting menu,” but it’s going to be a tasting menu kind of concept. There’s an emotional thing when you imagine a tasting menu, you immediately imagine this euro-centric, male-centric, “cheffy” fine dining concept. You picture these small, overly composed, overly touched plates. You imagine leaving feeling a little bit… I don’t know, confused? Hungry? Uh… condescended?
J: It’s almost a pretentious thing. A performance.
T: Yeah, so when I use the word tasting menu these emotional connotations immediately spring to mind. I want to change the vibe of set menus. We’re looking at it more like these potlucks or picnics or suppers we’ve had with our queer friends, where it’s a set menu because this is what we prepared and this is what we love and this is what we want to feed you. You’re gonna get fed, you’re gonna feel that wholesome ‘prepared just for you’ feeling of dining with your chosen family. We want to share that with our community
We [also] wanted to be very open, accommodating, and inclusive of people’s dining needs and restrictions, which I think is something that’s often glossed over in “fine dining.” There’s this idea that what the chef wants to feed you is what you’re going to get because that’s like… the vision, and I think that’s so dumb because it totally forgets how important it is to just feed the people that show up. These are the people that want to enjoy your food. You have to consider them and invite them and include them.
J: I’ve thought a lot about hospitality [and the] one-sided nature of that. It becomes this conditional thing. Like: “You’re here on my terms.” [It’s] this battle that it doesn’t need to be.
T: Right and “your terms” is defined through a capitalist lens. It essentially comes down to “I couldn’t afford to consider you,” if we’re to put a very literal point on what is going on in these kitchens that refuse certain dietary restrictions. It’s that they just don’t have the labor time, they don’t have the capital to prep the dishes that would be flexible. And you know, there’s no financial or capitalistic merit to calling these communities in. When you call in vegans, does that benefit your bottom line? It’s not a question that we should be asking, we should just be calling people in.
J: Right. I’m also thinking about the announcement from [Eleven Madison Park] and I feel like it’s become this thing where it’s one or the other. If you’re saying “we’re plant based” then you have to be just plant-based and that’s not really true.
T: It’s not true at all.
J: But there’s this mentality that if you’re calling one group in, you can’t call anyone else in, and that I think is really silly. There is a way to do it.
T: Do it all! Invite everybody. It’s food.
J: Yeah, we all need to eat.
T: And we all do eat. You know, most of us eat multiple times a day, and ultimately, if we’re going to extrapolate this vision of a set menu restaurant in terms of our queer food history then we have to remember that we’re feeding whoever shows up, and that’s kind of the fun. That’s the point. When you come, I want to know who you are. I want to feed you the way that you eat. It’s less so about me. It’s more so about us.
So that’s kind of like…. the whole bag of what HAGS is and what we’re trying to accomplish. We’re definitely leading from more of a conceptual place than a cuisine place. I almost feel like the food is going to be the last thing we think about, and that’s what I want. I’ve been cooking long enough to know that I can cook whatever I want and have it taste pretty good. At this point in this industry, we need to stop thinking about food and we need to start thinking about conditions. That’s the future of this industry in my opinion. Less about imagining how we’re going to plate this dish and more imagining how we’re going to take care of ourselves.
J: In an ideal world, what do you think the future of restaurants looks like?
T: I don’t think that we know, and I think that’s actually the truth we need to admit to. I think for the past decade there’s been this false awareness of what the ideal restaurant is and how it operates. I don’t think HAGS is going to be it, [but] we really want to try. Ultimately, I hope that the ideal restaurant comes after us. I hope that the future of restaurants learns from the mistakes that we’re inevitably going to make. There are smarter, more talented people than me that I want to encourage to do this better than me. We probably have no concept of the ideal restaurant. Those voices are yet to emerge. They are yet to be believed in. So, HAGS is just like a fuck you to everybody that demoralized us, that told us we weren’t the ones, that we weren’t ready. And hopefully that encourages people that feel that same pressure from the industry.
J: You touched on this a little bit but I’m curious about your general thoughts on gender roles and performance in the food space. Like, how you’re thinking about that and then also how you’re also incorporating that into a professional setting.
T: This is such a dense question for me as an AMAB trans person. At the beginning of my career, when I was working at vegan cafes and stuff, I was not the only trans person in a lot of these spaces. I felt very comfortable. When I decided to transition in my career toward fine dining, one of the first places I worked at, I came out to my boss on the phone when he called, and he said that he would appreciate if I stayed in the closet. And that was the first time that it was like ‘oh, I can be re-closeted.’ I had never thought of that before. In my mind, it was like you know, we’re all wearing the same apron, we’re all wearing the same uniform, our hair is tied up. What is gender in a kitchen?
For ten years I’ve been asking myself this question. It’s such a utilitarian space and so infrequently do we really come across a scenario in which gender is important or instructional of the job we do. And yet, it’s such a hyper-gendered space.
J: It’s a personal professional boundary too that I feel like is so inherent and also doesn’t seem like it really needs to be.
T: Yeah, and unfortunately, that first job where I was re-closeted set kind of a dangerous precedent set for me because it happened more than a couple times throughout my career. There were spaces where I just couldn’t be myself. It wasn’t an option. So, a lot of the time I’ve spent developing as a culinary professional was unfortunately spent isolated from the larger queer community, which is one of my greatest regrets, honestly, that I let people put me in that place and do that to me.
But there are so many strong, visionary, inspiring queer people in this industry, especially now, that are so welcoming and inviting of queer folks and all kinds of folks. It really encourages me to imagine a future where the way that I had to come up, in my career, can never happen to somebody else. I really rely on the inspiration that I draw from people like Eric at Ursula, the Dacha girls…
J: I was going to say I feel like I could probably list everyone you’re thinking of, which is so nice. I’m thinking of this very specific community that’s like … amazing.
T: This new place.
J: Yeah, I like that we’re both smirking.
T: It’s support and inspiration that I get from them that is so important to take that next step, keep going, to reinvest and not give up.
J: Well, it’s that chosen family thing too. I think it comes back to that [idea of] building each other up. And it’s awesome.
T: Yeah, it’s beautiful.
What’s Cooking?
Woldy Reyes’ Summer Kamatis with Patis Cilantro Sauce
Woldy Reyes is Chef and Founder of the boutique catering company, Woldy Kusina, based in Brooklyn, New York and in the HudsonValley. As a first-generation Filipino American, Woldy effortlessly infuses contemporary dishes with vibrant flavors and colors that are inspired by his roots. Woldy Kusina is recognized as one of New York’s top caterers and has been featured in goop and New York Magazine, with a noteworthy clientele that includes brands like 3.1 Phillip Lim,West Elm, Kosas, and Well+Good. His cooking has been highlighted on the Today Show and deemed by New York Times as an invigorating culinary experience that is “more about passion than precision.” His dinner event series, Kamayan, aims to continue sharing admiration and respect for his Filipino heritage with a community of open minded and curious food lovers. The dinner series was deemed Eater’s – The Best NYC Restaurant Meals of 2020 by food writer Priya Krishna.
*Photos courtesy of Woldy Reyes*
“My favorite part of summer is the abundance of Kamatis or Tomatoes! They are juicy, sweet and succulent. I enjoy eating them simply sliced on a platter with a delicious sauce and fresh herbs. For this recipe, I love the salty fish sauce in the Patis Cilantro sauce because it provides an umami flavor to the sweet tomatoes.” – Woldy Reyes
Summer Kamatis with Patis Cilantro Sauce
Ingredients
1 cup cilantro, finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, finely minced
1 jalapeño, finely chopped with seeds on
¼ cup fish sauce (I recommend Rufina Patis, a Philippine brand)
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
⅓ cup lime juice
2 tablespoons sugar
5 heirloom tomatoes, cut into slices
Salt and pepper to taste
10 sungold tomatoes, cut in half
½ cup pea shoots
fresh cilantro leaves, for garnish
fresh Thai basil leaves, for garnish
¼ cup unsalted roasted peanuts, chopped
Directions
In a bowl, combine chopped cilantro, garlic, jalapeno, fish sauce, olive oil, lime juice, and sugar. Whisk until combined.
On a platter, arrange the tomatoes. Season with salt and pepper. Drizzle with patis cilantro sauce. Scatter pea shoots, cilantro, and Thai basil over the tomatoes. Sprinkle with chopped peanuts and serve.
Lunch Break
A dedicated section to boost suggestions from friends & collaborators.
Adriann Ramirez (he/they, pastry chef, podcast creator of @LavenderLanguage and writer of forthcoming book of poetry from @polaripress): I’ve really been missing my home of Southern California as I haven’t been back in 2 years, so that’s informed my recent obsessions. Hackney’s Sonora Taquería makes flour tortillas just like my Nana does and the first time I ate there I actually cried. I rabidly consumed Anything for Selena, part podcast and love letter to icon and musician, Selena Quintanilla. This series made me laugh, cry and ache for her and for the boy who grew up idolising her. I’m currently getting my morning coffee and pastry from Big Jo Bakery, rediscovering Hole’s Celebrity Skin and impatiently waiting for blood peach season to start while I edit my podcast’s upcoming series and finish the final draft of my poetry book.
Tony Ortiz (They/Them, culinary artist @Ediciones & @Chileconmiel): I supported my friend Indalesio who is a part of Nuestra Mesa BK with a mutual aid food pop up they organized at Honey’s. The proceeds went to The Stone Wall Protests and Bridges4Life, organizations that focus on Black Trans and Queer community. I am currently reading The Cooking Gene by Michael Twitty and simultaneously living for him liking my food posts on Instagram. I have Combo Chimbita and Kali Uchis on repeat which is my vibe this season. I plan on cooking over an open flame all summer while wearing the least amount of clothing possible. My menus will be full of fresh corn, summer tomato, chiles and mango salad. My intention with the events I am planning is to collaborate with other Queer organizers and artists to center Queer and Trans BIPOC and create spaces for us to enjoy well thought out menus while being our most authentic selves and living our fullest lives.
Liz Alpern (she/her, co-founder and co-owner of The Gefilteria and creator of Queer Soup Night): For me, the light at the end of this pandemic tunnel is found in the ways that the hospitality industry is opening to creative models for building a sustainable and equitable future. As I mourn the loss of MeMe’s Diner, for example, I celebrate the space’s relaunch as KIT (Keep in Touch), a genuine incubator for multiple queer businesses. I love that we are re-thinking our business models! A couple of months ago, I joined Drive Change’s Hospitality for Social Justice cohort. I'm grateful for the learning and the accountability of the program. And Drive Change is doing pop-ups – check it out. On a more basic level, I just discovered Goldthread plant-based tonics. As an avid fermenter, I’m always up for trying anything that claims to be a “tonic” but Goldthread truly deserves the title – so refreshing and good for my gut.
Trina Quinn (she/they) and Jessica Quinn (she/her) (co-owners and chefs of Dacha 46): Ursula has established itself as a place we can’t get enough of. Besides devouring everything our good friend Eric makes inspired by his New Mexican background, we’re loving food from the ever-rotating roster of queer chefs Ursula hosts. The battered fried fish and morita slaw from the HAGS pop-up was so good we fought over who would have the last bite. Zahra Tangorra has been hosting Zaza Lasagna pop-ups highlighting craveable red sauce dishes like her iconic lasagna and Aperol spritz cake, making all of her former Brucie fan club cry with joy. Everything she makes tastes a bit like home and like a choose your own adventure. Caren Tommasone who recently left her long standing post of pastry chef of Poppy’s Catering launched Layered last fall. Her perfectly crispy, chewy, and salty chocolate chip cookies are a staple in our house and some of the most underrated in town.
From The Seaweed’s Team:
Danielle Pattavina (they/them, owner, sommelier & sexy-safe space creator of Seaweed's, Momma's, and Tiny Shell): As restaurant workers, we've worked in masks & gloves, on our feet, under threats of sexual harassment, employer retaliation, getting sick without insurance; we've worked at a sub-minimum wage. Pandemic or no...it's just restaurants. As queers, we've defended our space–our identity; we've told our neighbors, our colleagues, that asshole at the bar, our governments, that our existence is not a political debate. And other times, we ignored it while it was all going on. Because we're fucking tired. That's why I wanted to do a different sort of pop-up: A Rest Pop-up. We've invited chefs to come to Martha's Vineyard for two nights. We give a small travel stipend & partner with the neighboring inn. Instead of doing a meal, the rest is the pop-up. The chefs can cook a meal, or a just dish, or give us a recipe to cook & feature. Or not. They can just come to the island to rest, maybe come by for a meal, or enjoy the beach. We're supporting our own in the way this industry has taught us: hospitably.
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Jam Joseph (she/her, salad enthusiast, learner, chef @seaweeds_mv): I’ve been thinking lots about queerness as a stance in a space. As a queer-owned & operated buisness and women-run kitchen, we’ve found ourselves at odds with an industry that is aching for change while simultaneously married to its roots. To keep trekking through these thoughts, I spend most mornings wandering around Beetlebung Farm playing with the newest crops (this week we got shishitos! tomatoes! and soft & hard neck garlic!). I swim everyday before I get into the kitchen (otherwise I’m too grumpy), and frantically forage for plants to make tea to curb the fluorescent light fury (also a few Dram Cloud Drops help for that too). And naturally I'm reading Braiding Sweetgrass (which should be required reading), flipping through The Chef’s Garden to stay ever-inspired with new varietals & seasonality, and the occasional bell hooks to remind myself to breathe, look humans in the eye, and love deeply.
Thanks for stopping by and happy “belated” pride! Of course, pride can and, in our humble opinion, should be celebrated every month (even if corporate America has decided otherwise), so let us know if there’s a queer F&B project you think we should know about! Feel free to give us a shout at hello@lunch-group.com and follow us on Instagram for extra servings. Until next month <3
