Hello Reader,

I wrote an earlier draft of this letter, but after some of our country’s recent events, I decided more needed to be said.

Many of you, like me, were baffled and heartsick by the election results, and while it’s easy to curl up into ourselves and shut the world out, I want to keep my arms outstretched. My favorite aspect of the work I get to do for Edible Seattle is sharing all the ways food binds us together. Anyone can find common ground across a table laden with food. We can share the precious parts of ourselves—our cultures and history, our memories and experiences, our love for each other—in sharing a meal.

This issue wasn’t intended to be, but rather naturally became, a kind of antidote to that impulse to turn away, to shut out. All of our stories in this issue focus on connection and comfort—whether grounding yourself in the present moment over a cup of coffee and a sweet pastry, as Judith suggests you do in her piece on fika, finding community in a small-but-mighty bakery like Water Tank Bakery in Burlington, or doing like Jesse does—connecting to a sense of home every time he makes oden for himself and his loved ones. If you need to find something to look forward to, follow Colin’s advice and start planning your garden and ordering seeds. Get into nature. Make a cake, for yourself or for a friend. Take heart.

Finally, I feel it is an important moment to reaffirm something. Edible Seattle is a safe space for all of us. Whether you are queer, BIPOC, trans, immigrant, disabled, young or old—whoever you are and whatever you’re facing, you are welcome here. You have a place in these pages, always. Pull up a chair, and we can sit crooked and talk straight over a meal. At this table, there is room enough for everyone.

With hope,

Lindsay Kucera
Editor