The end for now

And thank you, from an institutionalist ❤️

Dearest subscribers!

I am writing to let you know that I’m discontinuing this newsletter for the time being. As I’ve watched the evolution of new media through outlets like Substack, I’m finding—a little ironically—that I’m most concerned about the survival of our journalistic institutions right now. So I’m shifting my attention to getting as much quality work as possible into the outlets that are under attack due to so many forces, including our own federal government and weak, capital-obsessed tech overlords betting that our collective attention spans and ability to think critically are going by the wayside.

This is not to say that Substack, which started as a haven for writers by writers, isn’t capable of producing excellent, important writing and reporting. I maintain at least half a dozen paid subscriptions to newsletters that I love and value deeply. I just don’t think adding my voice to an already crowded space that’s increasingly dominated by corporate-aligned talking heads seeking profits above all else is doing much good right now. (How much more Opinion writing do we really need?) Plus, I’m tired.

To my paid subscribers: I am eternally grateful that you valued quality storytelling enough to lend financial backing to this oddball space I created for food-focused creative nonfiction. Feel free to unsubscribe, or else I’ll unsubscribe all of you by the end of this week.

To everyone: Just in case you don’t already, I’d encourage you to consider paid memberships to NPR and PBS and subscriptions to local and national newspapers and magazines that are doing everything they can to speak truth to power, while our neighbors and our country’s real history are disappeared before our eyes, while our free speech, essential public services, healthcare systems and entire democratic experiment are in danger of being utterly destroyed by a deranged pack of cruel, greedy, racist, misogynistic losers. We need the fourth wall to hold.

I am proud to tell real, inspiring stories about my hometown, to observe and report on the weird ways humans behave in the semi-public spaces where we gather to eat and drink. I am proud to offer people a little shoulder drop if they need it, with a silly story about how lettuce leaves in restaurant salads have gotten inexplicably oversized. I am even more proud do to that as part of institutions that strive to offer a complete package of news and cultural enrichment to their citizens.

After I wrote a story about how restaurants are embracing real candlelight again for The New York Times' dining section this summer, a longtime musician and writer named Christine Lavin wrote me an email telling me how she once got to guest-host open mic night at the famous New York jazz club Birdland and accidentally burnt the list of performers on one of the tabletop votives. She never told the owner and shared a picture of the burnt list.

She also urged me to start archiving my work, which is something she’s coming to terms with as someone on the cusp of retirement.

“I have made 26 solo albums approximately 270 original songs,” she wrote, “ -- and though I was oblivious to it, I've been writing the soundtrack of my life. I was just writing and doing the songs for audiences -- but now that I'm near the end of my career I can finally see what I've been doing all these years.

“I encourage you in the best way possible to keep all your stories organized somewhere and the day will arrive where you can see them all as a part of something much bigger. Whatever possessed you to write about real votive candles as opposed to the battery operated ones? What a weird idea for a story, and judging by the comments, so many people can relate.”

It was so meaningful to read that, and to be reminded of the importance of documenting the moment we’re living through however it makes the most sense to us.

We won’t—and can’t—be silenced.

Love you,

Marge