The Hardest Hitting Menu
An In-depth look at designing a socially conscious menu for 70 unique persons.
This is part field report, part reflection, and part spiritual kitchen log — a record of feeding seventy people for seven days, with each meal woven to the retreat’s themes. It’s a story of how philosophy became flavor.
I tracked everything from no alliums (onions, garlic, leeks…) to no nightshades (tomatoes, eggplants, vine plants…) as well as no soy, dairy, gluten and a few special needs mixed. These long hours from 7am to Midnight or later without a sous chef was a feat in itself, and I am not one to glorify overworking, but if im being honest theres is immense satisfaction in grinding for my dreams.
I really did enjoy myself; it was a challenge and pushed me to come up with some amazing solutions like a roasted carrot and turmeric puree and sage soup. By necessity I had to make some changes and every challenge is one more step towards understanding my materials and abilities. I think this is my most diverse menu I have ever made and one that I am very proud of for its complexity, budget and creativity.
The following is a more in-depth look at my process and philosophy behind what I cooked and why. Each section that is a block quote with the orange line on the left is what I showed the guests. I hope you enjoy the read and if you have any questions or want to know more let me know.
The Intro Letter
It can be a bit challenging to meet a new client, they don’t know my work or my vibe and sometimes it takes a minute to really get a feel for each other. In this case it would be the first time I cooked for this group and also the first time they were running a retreat in Western Mass. I had one interview and also got a chance to see their website and get to know their values more. We were aligned in language and what some of the changes we wanted to see in the world so they seemed like a good fit. I think by the end of it all we can say for sure we were a good fit for each other.
But back to the intro letter. I feel it’s important to set the tone and give a bit of warmth in the intro, I don’t ever want to come across as a chef with a big ego or uncaring or dismissive. Apparently there exist chefs like this who represent an outdated way of the kitchen culture today. So far I have been lucky to see highly capable and joy filled faces in the pro kitchens I’ve visited. Albeit a touch of possibly overworked but eager and happy to be behind the line.
Affinity–Belonging Camp. Menu 2025: Our Love is Resistance: Weaving Interdependence Menu by Johnny Chanthavong
Hello there,
My name is Johnny Chanthavong, and I will be in charge of your nourishment program for this retreat. I have done my best to accommodate everyone’s needs, and I’m aware that some folks have sensitivities to alliums and nightshades. With that in mind, every meal will feature three groups: non-vegetarian, vegetarian, and special order.
For the most part, this menu is gluten-free, dairy-free, and soy-limited; exceptions will be noted. It is designed to be modular, and if anyone has concerns, please let me know — we’ll do our best to adapt. Each meal is inspired by a workshop for the day and I hope to help weave food stories that may resonate. Finally, eating together is one of the greatest joys so if you feel you need more or less of something, please let me know and I’ll do my best to accommodate. Thank you for trusting me to bring my magic into this space and co-create this experience.
With warmth and joy in my belly,
Johnny
***Menu is subject to change on-site as needed***
Now from there I can give a bit of my personality but also tell the group I have heard their requests. We all just want to be heard and good service begins before anyone ever sits down at the table. Adding “menu is subject to change” is a smart move because there’s always a chance for a mood or vibe shift, and giving myself a bit of leeway to make the changes is important.
Basic Menu Starter Menu
I had a breakfast captain and they requested I keep it more simplified so they can execute the meals. This allowed me to sleep in a little bit but honestly I love the kitchen so sometimes I found myself in there helping out for fun. So we went with a more standard affairs. and a snack bar. Not much thought just general spreads and fast to execute.
Breakfast - Eggs, granola, cereal, fresh fruit, yogurt, and bread. Coffee and tea will be available, with oat milk as the primary non-dairy creamer.
Snack Bar - Fruits, granola bars, and assorted vegetarian goodies available at all times.
Beverages - We’ll do our best to provide some natural juices, but recommend BYOB for anything fizzy that brings you joy. There is drinking water available on site. Reminder: this is an alcohol-free zone.
Lunch and Dinner
Then the fun begins for me. Every day there were workshops and themes that were designed to open up hearts and minds to new ways of seeing the world. The goal was to create a more enriched and wholesome understanding of our collective struggles and what we might learn from one another. In the spirit of that I took the titles of each workshop and reflected on what sorts of food could reinforce the lesson plans. I wanted to try my hand at linking a lesson to a plate or bowl. They say memory is in scent but, I have a theory that if we can teach a lesson in a full sensory way the binds of our stories will be woven tighter. The following is an attempt at really diving into that with a decent budget, an industrial kitchen and a team of volunteers I worked to create a multi-sensory dining experience that I hope helped heal, nourish and energize the participants.
Friday Dinner: Lao Pho Night / Theme: Heart Opening Circle
Pho is my signature dish, the one closest to my heart. It’s how I first became the nomadic traveling chef I am today. Sharing it here feels like opening a door into my story. The broth, rich with hours of care, holds memory and movement.
As we begin, I offer this bowl as a welcome — an invitation to open our hearts and settle into the circle. Pho is the most intensive dish of the week, so beginning here allows me to honor its labor fully.
Non-Veg: Roasted Chicken Pho
Veg: Shiitake Mushroom Pho
Carb: Rice Noodles
Chef Notes: Serving this dish early also meant I had plenty of pho broth to share throughout the week to use and fold as needed. Spiritually, it invites my ancestors to the table. Each time I make a dish that is Laotian, or use Southeast Asian ingredients I am asking for help from those who have cooked before me. I might just be imagining it but, sometimes when I am really in flow I feel like all the chefs that shared my DNA are cooking with me. Even when it looks like I am alone prepping scallions at 2:00am
Saturday Lunch: Bánh Mì Bar / Theme: Culture Building Intro
The bánh mì is the meeting of two countries: Vietnam and France. Born from colonization, it has become a symbol of resilience and adaptation. In its layered flavors, we taste immigration, struggle, survival — and also the creativity of making something new.
As we begin culture building, I invite us to see the bánh mì as a mirror: many textures, many voices, many colors finding space together. My version uses sweet and savory BBQ chicken as the base, with tofu as an alternative. The invitation is simple: build your own, build with one another.
Non-Veg: Vietnamese BBQ Honey Chicken
Veg: Orange-Glazed Tofu
Carb: Bánh Mì Bread (GF sandwich bread available)
Chef Notes: Serving this early on made it so that I could use the pickled carrots and daikon in any other dishes that succeeded it. If I needed a quick acidic note it was always readily there for a pop. In this case I used apple cider vinegar, water, agave, and tamarind concentrate for tang. Sometimes the thing that helps us remember something is the slightly off note of a song. The tamarind here felt like it altered the brine a little to add a slight twist. Like cherry Coca-Cola, you know the OG flavor but there’s some special memory with that particular shade of that drink. OK, maybe not for everyone but you pick your cherry coke, might be a lavender hibiscus lemonade, you get it. I think.
Sat. Dinner: Moqueca (Brazilian Fish Stew) / Theme: Inner Compass
Our compass tonight points us toward the salmon — creatures known for extraordinary migrations, moving from fresh to salt water and back again, guided by instincts as old as the rivers. In the Atlantic, salmon survive spawning and return again and again. They embody resilience, renewal, and the strength to trust the path within.
Moqueca is a Brazilian stew, traditionally made with white fish, rich in coconut milk, peppers, tomatoes, and dendê oil. It’s a story of crossing waters and finding balance — a reminder that our inner compass is always present, guiding us toward both source and horizon.
Non-Veg: Salmon Moqueca
Veg: Roasted Carrot + Sweet Potato, Tofu, and Mushroom Moqueca
Carb: Brown Rice
Chef Notes: This was a hit, part of creating a menu is deciding when and where to hit them with that new protein. I can cook chicken so many different ways but it’s fun to shift gears and make it interesting. The salmon in this case was wild caught and I should note we sourced all proteins from Whole Foods as the clients request was all humanely treated animal products. At cost sometimes this can be a challenge but in this case I was very happy and surprised to see it all work out budget wise.
A challenge for this meal was that there were a significant portion of folks who were no alliums (garlic, onions, leeks) and no nightshades (tomatoes) and a sprinkle of no peppers (bell peppers). So how does one make something that has a base of bell peppers, coconut milk, onions, tomatoes, and lime?
You don’t — you shift gears and find inspiration instead of the one to one replacement. For my safe option arose a roasted carrot and sweet potato, sage soup. To which I added tofu and mushrooms for body. It’s moqueca inspired in the kind of hearty stew feel without feeling like you missed out on the main dish. This particular mixture would be folded into a turmeric curry and chickpea blend later in the week.
Sun. Lunch: Mediterranean Rainbow Bowls / Theme: Yashapi Intro
The Mediterranean has often been called the birthplace of democracy — a place where people gathered to converse, convene, and decide together. But even at its birth, democracy carried contradictions: slavery, exclusion, imbalance.
Today, in the Spirit of New Culture, we still ask: how do we build systems where everyone has a voice? These bowls, colorful and mix-and-match, are a way to say: I welcome your color into the conversation. May our stories mingle like flavors on the plate — distinct, textured, nourishing together.
Non-Veg: Lemon Pepper Chicken with Capers
Veg: Roasted Chickpeas with Olive Oil
Carb: Wild Rice, Brown Rice
Chef Notes: I went to an art school where standing in front of 80 people to tell them why what I am doing matters was part of earning the degree. There was a lot of ancient Greek art mentions and talking. I live in America which some can call the home of democracy, but it’s certainly not the cradle of civilization. That marker tends to go to one of the oldest democracies in the world, the Mediterranean. I had heard about yashapi and this kind of round table forum format and thought it inspired me to think about the philosophers, and courts and the way in which people spoke their truths to one another to form a more perfect union. I gotta say though that the colors of our people today are so much more varied in belief, creed, religion, identity that the tools we need to understand one another feel inadequate without a sense of patience and understanding. There’s a lot to unpack here but…for a second if I take a look at an olive I think we can start to see democratic process in action.
An olive begins as a seed, then is nourished into a tree, and harvested by farmers, processed into olive oil and shared among families. Once given as rewards to gladiators, and there’s that saying, of extending an olive branch as a way to connect. Olives, and the spirit of the olive is one of patience and understanding. So the idea of sharing our voice, our gifts and grievances in a circle of humans reminds me of olive groves and the conversations between soil, water, sun, farmer, and process. So…yeah, fueling those conversations and bringing a taste of those philosophers and their people to the room felt like the move.
SUN. Dinner: Laotian Dinner / Theme: Decolonizing the Body
In many places, the spoon, fork, and dining table can be seen as symbols of colonization. There was a time when ancestors never ate at a table — meals were shared on the ground, close together, with hands reaching from a common dish.
Tonight, I share a meal I would have eaten on the ground with my grandmother: sticky rice, laap (a minced meat and herb salad)…
We eat as many Lao families do: close to the earth, close to each other. This is not a rejection of the table, but a reminder that belonging takes many forms.
Non-Veg: Laap Gai (Chicken, herbs, toasted rice powder)
Veg: Laap Hed & Tofu (Mushroom and Tofu, herbs, toasted rice powder)
Chef Notes: Oh but I am a man of contrast. Once the Greeks made bronze and then the utensils they also started to separate man from the foods they ate. We can argue the point of sanitation and blah blah blah — (don’t take my Safe Serv away!) but the point is, there are whole continents of people who eat with their hands. My friends in India say that the food their grandmothers made tastes different than anyone else because they hand fed them; the spices of generations almost seasoned in the genetic code of each hand. So I wanted that contrast - from the ancient Greeks and Romans forks and spoons to using lettuce as a carried of flavors like a boat drifting down the rivers of the mighty Mekong in Laos.
This meal was meant to be eaten with your hands and doing this honors my ancestor chefs, and my family. It brings me an immense sense of pride to bring the food of my childhood to people who have never had it. Sometimes it feels like a secret catalog or closet of spices and techniques I can pull from at any time. I love to cook around the world as the Nomad Chef, but my roots are so strong on my palate that now and then I like to just make things from my childhood. Sometimes that just sticky rice, a fried egg and soy sauce and I feel really lucky to have grown up with this food.
Right, but, back to the point, this days theme was Decolonization of the Body. I wanted to highlight the fact that since we were born in America we were told how to eat, when just south of us, Mexicans have been putting things in tortillas since forever. It’s not just about what we eat, it’s also how we eat - at tables, with plates, and bowls and forks, and spoons. For a moment I was asking folks to eat with their hands, try to understand that to create new ways of existing sometimes its about looking changing how you enjoy a meal. I’m not saying it’s wrong, I am just saying give it a second and think that these have been intentional decisions as a community, country, nation, and society. Someone convinced us all that the way of the fork and spoon is superior.
MON. Lunch: Ancient Grain Bowls — Three Sisters / Theme: Ancestral Healing
When I eat rice, I eat with my ancestors — rice itself feels like family. In Lao, there is even a nickname: Louk Khao Niew, “Children of Sticky Rice.”
Here, on this land I also honor the ancestors of this land: the Three Sisters — corn, beans, and squash — who have nourished Native people for generations. To commune with Rice, Corn, Beans, and Squash is to sit with them, to ask what resilience, joy, and comfort they bring.
Non-Veg: Ground Turkey with Sage, Rosemary, Thyme
Veg: Basil and Honey Tofu Bites, Black Beans
Carb: Rice, Corn
Chef Notes: I walked into service that day feeling a bit emotional. There’s obviously the sleep deprivation at play but more than that, I get a bit heavy hearted when I think about how a people’s food, traditions, music could be wiped out of our collective menu. Humanity has worked so hard together to create wonders and cities and advancements in science and engineering that would look like magic to people hundreds of years ago. Yet somewhere out there people are struggling and grateful to have enough flour to bake something to get them to through the next few hours of their day.
Only a few really get to benefit from these advancements in human engineering and keep their cultural identities intact.
Which made me ask that day before service, why don’t I have more Native American friends whose grandmothers invite me over to eat? Weren’t there millions of people who grew up on these lands and took care of it way before European colonizers met the shores? What did they eat, how did they commune with food? What was their philosophy behind nourishment and what did we lose as cobblestones stamped out earth and silenced the trees?
I grab my apron and I am met with a silence in the kitchen, just the hum of some lights and I hear birds chirping all around me from outside the building. Nestled in the forest was this kitchen that represented a westernized way of cooking and for a moment I thought I felt the spirits of the lost chefs wandering in from the trees. I pause and said to an empty pre-service kitchen:
“I see you, I hear you and I would like to offer my body as channel to create this meal. You, chef who have tended your people’s fires and turn harvest into sustenance are allowed to use these hands and cook with me today. I want to honor your menu, if you would allow me, today, to worship the corn, the bean, and the squash as best I can.”
A wind blows through the leaves and I tighten my apron to myself, I stretch my hands wide with knife in hand and breathe into the moment. I am tired, but this is important, if I can share a lost recipe, I might be able to share a lost story then maybe I can keep the memories of these forgotten chefs alive.
Or I am just a boy playing with knives, fire and curiosity.
And so I let myself wander down that rabbit hole and asked, what did the Native American population rely on pre-colonization? I did some internet and found that just a handful of Native American chefs have written books or own restaurants celebrating their foods. Meanwhile you can find hundreds of books on sourdough, or Thai-Food. Point is, I crave more stories and maybe it’s the diaspora child energy that wants to help hold space for forgotten recipes.
So for this challenge I fire roasted some corn over a pit, and I baked butternut squash, sweet potatoes and lightly seasoned some beans with cumin. The magic for this meal isn’t in the seasonings and spices, it’s in the pre-colonization techniques and care. The food itself should, taste good if grown right, so all it needs is fire. There may have even been very limited salt or oil so the whole meal was meant to reflect that idea. I roasted some chickens and went real heavy on the herbs, thyme, sage, rosemary. I imagine the flavors that come through from those herbs is what helps elevate the meal a bit more naturally. Then I set out some cranberries that people could add to a side salad, this is a homage to the northeast native folks who might have used many berries in their meals.
This was the best I could do with what limited knowledge I had. It makes me wonder what would have happened if Laos was obliterated and the people could no longer share their food. I wouldn’t be me, I would feel the weight of an identity crisis and not know my place in the world the way I do now. I’d feel lost without the food of my people. What if Italians no longer had pasta, or the Irish famine took out a whole group of folks who showed us exactly what a potato was worth?
Food is more than just sustenance, it can be it’s generations of identity that can be cooked down to a single ingredient, harvested over millennia of cultivated fields and poked fire pits.
MON. Dinner: Jamaican Curry Chili / Theme: Releasing Our Masks
The word curry is itself a mask. So is chili. They reduce rich spice traditions to a single word, a shortcut. My friends in India remind me there is no such thing as “curry powder” there — only unique mixtures, rooted in place and memory.
This dish, Jamaican Curry Chili, carries many masks. It sounds like one thing, but is in truth a mosaic of flavors — chickpeas, collards, spices that crossed oceans. To eat it is to honor each piece, each root, each story woven together.
Non-Veg: Jerk Style Chicken
Veg: Roasted Chickpeas in Cumin and Spices
Carb: Brown Rice, Yams
Chef Notes: I learned about this dish back in 2018 at Burning Man. I was asked to take over a kitchen designed to keep 70 alive in the dust and heat for a week and given a kind of play by play recipe sheet for what they did in previous years. The one that stuck out was the Jamaican Curry Chili which, I never knew existed or even a concept to explore. Thinking nothing of it I just dived in and tried to create something that resembled Jamaican Caribbean flavors, or at least what I knew of the dish. I’d revisit this dish a few times for various retreats because in my rolodex of meals this one is such a great vegetarian meal, and makes me feel satiated.
I’d eventually travel to India and immersed myself in some kitchens of that land. Id learn that the word curry itself is a form of culinary colonization. Curry powder, doesn’t exist in India. Curry is a mixture of spices something that is created with many things, it’s more ingredients meeting technique. Almost much more like saying pass me the bbq sauce powder, kind of weird. Almost insulting if you said this to a pit master.
My friends from the that beautiful land seemed annoyed and embarrassed for me when I asked for curry powder, “How cute, and curry powder, what is this curry powder?” Shivangis’ snark has a particular shade of endearment as she laughed at what she called my innocence. I think.
I guess I’d be annoyed too if another country tried to distill down a whole swath of culinary tradition into something that’s convenient for their own understanding because marketability is an issue. Or maybe the British traders just didn’t believe the common cooks of the British empire could possibly comprehend the sheer depth of each individual spice and their properties.
I mean, if I were a British merchant, visiting an Indian market I would see this:
Dhaniya, jeera, haldi, saunth, sarson ke dane, methi dane, kali mirch ke dane, laung, elaichi ke dane, aur dalchini — sabko ek saath bhuno jab tak khushboo uthne lage
—— which I would then need to translate to:
“Coriander, cumin, turmeric, dry ginger, mustard seeds, fenugreek seeds, black peppercorns, cloves, cardamom seeds, and cinnamon — toast them all together until their fragrance rises.”
How the hell do you sell that to a culture back home that doesn’t use spices quite like that?
This is 1600’s Britain, the recipes and food was more meat pies, vinegar, breads, spices and the sheer variety of ingredients from India would be like going from black and white TV to 4K omnisphere theater. You couldn’t give someone the ingredients to film something like Planet Earth when they have only ever used a film camera and have never seen modern editing software. You know what I mean?
India was so far advanced in the nuances of its textures and colors on the plate that each ingredient served not only a culinary purpose but in their atoms carried the stories of their multiple gods and lore. It’s not just turmeric a root it was an item to call in and worship their gods. To the British and their one God, it was…a root, not a symbol.
And I know I might be going on and on about this but I think this is part of the change I want to see in the world, I want to examine ingredients and honor them appropriately. If we can see the full spectrum, the history of the ingredients that make up a dish that nourishes us, then we allow another avenue by which we can see one another fully. We have access to understanding the significance of apples and honey for Jewish folks and Rosh Hashanah, or why Chinese folks LOVE those red bean moon cakes on Lunar new years.
But…back to Jamaican Curry Chili, that was just the word curry. If we start to break down Jamaica — its spices, traditions, techniques — we can start unlocking the story of allspice berries as they relate to a story of survival in jerk chicken. I can go on and on, theres layers and layers of history in this meal and many meals we enjoy today. Korean Fried Chicken and the African-American influence on that is a shared history, a shared experience and damn gift to society rooted in war and survival.
How is that if I use the word curry, we have Jamaican, Thai, Indian, Japanese curry and I can distinguish and speak of the differences in taste? It’s fascinating, it’s layered and cultured and not simply a mix of spices but a merging of ideas and kitchens.
So in the context of serving Jamaican Curry Chili, during the day the workshop titled “Releasing our Masks” was to say, sometimes we are masking the traditions of food for convenience but the beauty of our stories may be in our nuance.
I don’t want to fast food my culture, or anyone else’s, give me the story, give me drippings of your becoming and show me that gravy, that curry you’ve honed over generations. I want to appreciate you fully, full spectrum in all your history.
TUES. Lunch: Japchae / Theme: Melt into Movement
These Korean noodles remind me of dance, where scarves and sleeves flow like rivers. At first brittle, they become supple through heat and care — much like our bodies learning grace not by resisting, but by moving with the current.
Non-Veg: Ground Beef
Veg: Tofu, Mushroom, Bok Choy
Carb: Sweet Potato Noodles
Chef Notes: The concept here was much more on the nose, movement was the theme of the day and so noodles made sense. Sometimes they start rigid but once they warm up they are edible movement, like a ballerina is angel hair pasta, or a break dancer is tri-color rotini pasta. I wanted some kind of noodles today, and thought we would go with something a little unique, sweet potato noodles and a dish known as japchae.
However, best laid plans though, they say don’t always go the right way…
I had used up a good amount of spices and sauces I had brought. I had a problem, I had japchae noodles but not the right mix of things to really bring out the real deal Korean japchae. It was about an hour and half to service and I decided to trust I’d find a solution and started to boil the sweet potato noodles anyways.
As I was working that I decided to sautéing the bok choy and watercress. I had so many dietary restrictions the goal for this side was to draw out the flavors of each ingredient, cooking was more important than seasoning here, like the Thress Sisiters meal. This meant, relying on cooking down mushrooms on the flat iron, draw the essence of mushrooms out for warmth, umami so that I can stretch the tiny bit of sesame oil and tamari I found in the kitchen.
Ground beef is easy, meat generally cooked well with a bit of salt will do enough.
So now I had these noodles, glassy and plain sweet potato noodles, and 70 people to feed. Then I found my solution, packed in my emergency spice kit was something I wanted to experiment with, an all vegan mushroom soy sauce that turned out to be delicious. Always a risk to use something you never used before but, I trusted that I had enough skill to make it taste better if it was sub par.
…and then I found a small bottle of white truffle olive oil hidden on a shelf. It was like the kitchen spirit was eager to help me discover this combo and WOW! The mix of a mushroom soy sauce and a white truffle olive oil? An Asian sauce meeting a Mediterranean oil? I had not heard of this and the pairing really brought me some kind of joy.
BUT! I wanted more… more! — how can I drive and push this further?! I already had a solution but I wanted something to write about. I want to see the horizon of this new dish, the moment when enough ingredients, technique, history, lineage converge into something absolute, and undeniable delectable.
They say music decorates time, and art decorates space. Then for me food ordains a moment, it frames an experience at its best. This is what its all about for me, how far can I challenge myself? Julia Child once said you had to be confident as a chef, so to me that means diving in and trying things with joy and hope for the best.
…And as I was straining the noodles it hit me.
“Ah…Justus. I figured it out and I hate that I did…”
“Excuse me?”
Justus was one of the participants, a volunteer today and he watched me pour cold water over these noodles and smile.
“Justus, sometimes when you really like someone, and you want to cook for them and when you figure out what they love to eat it just really…well I think this next one reminds of a girl that i used to know…”
“Oh, an ex?”
“Not like that, unrequited noodles Justus. We are going to bring an old crush to this dinner.”
The cold water, the translucent noodles brought me back to Laos, when I met a pretty graphic designer who loved korean food She might not know I had a crush on her, if she reads this well, she does now haha. Anyhow, we hung out a few times but it stayed platonic which is a good place for me to keep things at that time.
Back then I wanted to spend time with her so we got coffee often and one day she was lamenting over a project she was working on. She looked tired and wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else that day.
“You eat yet?” — South East Asian for “You ok?”
“No…I have to figure out how to not suck as a designer.”
“You’re a great designer, I think it’s more just trying to speak to your client in a way where you both get what you need. Still right now, I think you need Cold Buckwheat Noodles.”
“What?”
“Naengmyeon? Er something…You said you had a Korean boyfriend once and that you’d eat that with him sometimes. It’s hot out, and well…my treat?”
“YES.”
I had no idea what those noodles were. I just googled them after she offhandedly mentioned them to me few days ago. I wanted to know more about the dish, because ice, in noodles? Preposterous, like when Bourdain wrote about discovering gazpacho. Just by coincidence, or the will of the food gods, the town we were in had many Korean BBQ spots.
I figured we would have a decent shot at finding those noodles. I was right…
…and so years later as I poured out these sweet potato noodles, and Justus is listening to me rant about how I probably should have asked her out on a real date instead of whatever the hell I was doing….I decided it was time to make a dish I had only once ever eaten.
The noodles went into an ice bath and marinated then with the remaining sesame oil, white truffle oil, and gourmet mushroom soy sauce. It hit, it may even, ‘slaps’ as the kids say these days.
I trusted my body, my senses to move through the kitchen to find the best way to achieve something that worked for everyone. I was melting into the movements of my own craft, tying my skills and my history to bring something to the plate that was unique, tasty and inspired. I was pushed to solve this problem and in the pressure cooker of this place I was able to create something amazing and really fun.
TUES. Dinner: Laotian BBQ / Theme: Eros & Song Circle
I wanted to end with a barbecue. Growing up, this was how families celebrated. Across humanity, barbecue has always been a way of gathering — around fire, celebrating harvest, marking special moments.
By the end of this program, I imagine we’ll feel connected in many ways. To honor that communion, I call on the spirit of fire — eros in the smoke, song in the air, celebration in the flame.
Non-Veg: Lao Style BBQ Chicken Thighs
Veg: Roasted Assorted Vegetables
Carb: Baked Sweet Potato, Corn
Chef Notes: This is the meal that never really happened. Basically I wanted to throw the idea of the BBQ as a meeting place for all to gather and converse. The whole trope of being invited to the BBQ feels like an American tradition and back when I was a kid, and even today, the cookout is when family and friends met to hang and chill. We love the cookout. I wanted to have a cookout vibe…but…we had so many leftovers.
So I decided it was best to re-fire and slightly alter the meals from the week we had. I pulled all the food made up to now, reheated, re-seasoned and re-imagined each one again. By then the participants had gone through so much in terms of space holding for one another for hard conversations on race and identity that re-firing something we enjoyed a couple days ago was like time travel. Instead of “oh this again”… I got “yay! the moqueca is back!” to which I added swordfish to and some more herbs.
Still I wanted to add a new texture and flavor and as the days went on I was aware of what hit and what REALLY hit. So many people commented on the Jerk Chicken from the Jamaican Curry Chicken night that I thought, ‘ok, ok, I got some tricks… hit em with that good good Lao chicken—show em what a real good Southeast Asian roasted chicken thigh looks like…’
I borrowed some tech from Vietnam, a honey and fish-sauce base mixed in with the oyster sauce, lemongrass, galangal, kaffir lime leaf mixture I had. I was running very low on the oyster sauce so the honey mix helped me pad it a bit and give that sticky sticky caramelized umami to the chicken. Roasted on high 420F (because.) for 15 minutes each side until crispy and there it was….
Oh Chicken Thigh of my Kind,
Of my bones and blood, so divine,
Caramel color near golden like my skin soaked in Sun,
Glistening, perfected crisp skin, tender umami bite of my childhood —
Whose crackle the sound of satisfaction,
Whose waft of lemongrass heated aura breathes meaning into the air,
Whose mere presences permeate and penetrates time immemorial across the kitchens of mothers and uncles…
lo and behold the Great Chicken Thighs of Laoation Lore.
—-Ok —- it was just damn good chicken thighs, but paired with anything on the menu from the days past and we had a great play on flavors. I was showing that you can show up with all your history and all your lore and still be seated at the same table. A well balanced meal is a scientific concept to nourish countries and maintain a baseline of health. However a spiritually balanced table is one that sings and celebrates whats on the plate. And… logistically we are minimizing our food waste which is pretty cool too I guess.
Wed. Late Lunch: Iron Chef — Mango Basil Fried Rice / Theme: Seeds of Action
For our final meal, I offer something sweet and grounding: Laotian mango basil fried rice, a dish I’ve been working to perfect. This day is also our “Iron Chef” moment — a chance to take what’s left and transform it into something new.
As we close, may this dish remind us: the seeds of action are often found in what remains. What we carry forward is not only what was planned, but what we make together from what is left in our hands.
Protein: Salmon or Chicken
Veg: Crispy Tofu Bites with Lemongrass and Ginger
Carb: Mango Fried Rice
Chef Notes: I stepped into my walk-in and realized that we were right on track. There wasn’t much left in the fridge and the budget worked very well. It’s a proud moment to see that we went through what we needed to without breaking the bank, and knowing all the ingredients for the most part were ethically sourced. It was the last lunch and I wanted to push this Mango Basil Fried Rice I have been trying to perfect but the issue was I had just gone through all the chicken, and if I wanted to make the fried rice I needed to prep that yesterday.
So…now what?
It’s iron chef day so I had to sit for a moment to think about what to create I had all the ingredients to make a fried rice but actually…I did not have the oil!
There were several soy sensitive folks so no vegetable oil (usually soybean)…amateur mistake…and so batch cooking fried rice was not really an option. I had two braziers and a dream. I had about 10 lbs of good ground beef. Not much time to cook and cool rice for a do fried rice.
Had to shift gears. Had to think fast, and I remember…I am a child of Lowell Massachusetts, home of many Southeast Asians, and the Irish…
I need a starch. I had potatoes.
I need a protein. Had ground beef
I need veggies. Had frozen peas, carrots and corn mix intended for fried rice.
I had the makings of a shepherd’s pie.
“OH JULIA — I am so so excited for tonights shift on the menu.”
“Yeah?! What is it?”
“Shepards Pie.”
“Oh…but I cant have pie.”
“What?”
“Gluten.”
“…no…its, this pie you can its a mashed potato crust.”
“WHAT?!”
…And in my gigginess that morning thinking about how to make something filling and pleasant on a cloudy day in the forest, nothing would hit as hard as a shepherd’s pie. So I did just that, and the veggie version was a special Japanese sweet potato toped with the filling being a mix of roasted carrot sage purée, combined with the turmeric coconut soup from earlier to give it depth and body.
Hearing folks say with joy “Shepard’s PIE?!” is like applause to my ears.
End Notes
Alright, it was just food.
Everyone ate different things and all 70 left fed and happy. End of service, it’s not a holy ritual or anything special. Or…maybe it was.
Maybe for a moment I was inviting my ancestors to speak to the caretakers of this land. Maybe there were ghosts of chefs before me who helped inspire my movements from one service to the next. Maybe the fire pit did crackle when I paused and spoke of corn and its importance in the culinary vernacular of North America.
I don’t know…It could be all of the above. Maybe the way I cook, can be a way to hold space. What if comfort food from many kitchens can converge for everyone to feel like they belong? Maybe cooking is generations of stories a cyclical conversation between cultivator, cook, and caretaker. Perhaps cooking with our ancestors is another way to say, ‘I want to acknowledge and remember that I am only ever able to access this many recipes, this many stories because there were millions of human beings before me that made it possible.’ That many hands, minds, and hearts made it possible to put turmeric in a container that has multiple holes to evenly spread over a baking tray designed by some grandfather in Sweden, to cook chicken raised on open pastures in Massachusetts, — to roast all in an oven manufactured in Japan.
Maybe cooking is just fire over a pit, or maybe it’s communion with every human that’s ever nourished themselves and their families.

I’m still slowly working my way through this one. I stop because I also spend a moment reflecting where I was at when I was introduced this meal.
And I’m thinking… because it was a value for me when I was in the kitchen w you…
To add the playlist you had going when the meal was in creation. That adds for me a necessary layer to the space that I find incredibly important. And to have that chronicled here so absolutely cool!