Food on Film II
A love letter to LA, red velvet, and a weekend in New York
Last week, I rewatched The Sound of Music for perhaps the twentieth time in my life. The verdant hills, curtain dresses, clanging bell towers—I wish I could turn that film into a swath of fabric and wrap myself in it. When I was a child, my Mom and I would go to the Sound of Music Sing-along at the Hollywood Bowl every summer. The fusty tunnel leading to the amphitheater, the burnished blush sunset over the ridge, every time I watch The Sound of Music I’m awash in memories of carefree nights in July.
Since its inception last summer, my love of movies has crept slowly into each edition of Avery Plates. Interspersing film stills, mentioning something I saw, the deeper I probe my author voice, the more I return to the shimmery silver screen. My Mom is a screenwriter, my Dad is an actor, my brother and best friend are filmmakers, everyone I love is enmeshed in a strip of gelatin emulsion and silver halide crystals.
I can’t yet describe the feeling I had at the start of this year, when I watched in pure horror as flames raced towards my house, the snaking stretch of PCH, the wild hillside of Mount Wilson, my favorite trail in Runyon canyon, the crest of the Hollywood Bowl.
The last time I was in Los Angeles I was furiously packing a bag. I sorted through yearbooks, photos, and stuffed animals but the more I tried to bundle away, the more dismayed I became. The spirit, the voices, the dream of my beautiful city eclipsed into ash.
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down? How do you keep a wave upon the sand?
I love film because, if you’ll forgive the clunky metaphor, it’s a mirror. When the fires engulfed LA, I saw the power and light of our community shatter the pall of black smoke blanketing our home. Love, resilience, and art is the beating heart of the City of Angels. The ineffable magic that draws people from across the earth to the windswept rows of fan palms and towering sound stages can never be snuffed out.
I have been trying to untangle my feelings since leaving LA and holding the heartbreak of the fires.
When I returned to Ann Arbor, I found an old camera I filled before the fires and ran to get it developed. I sat in my car, holding the limp packet of photos with showers of thick sleet pounding the windows, and I was overcome by a strange, floaty, feeling. At once everything felt so ephemeral, as if at any moment someone was going to come by and snatch the photos out of my hand.
But how do you make her stay? How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?
Life is so precious and I am so grateful to have a stack of moments to pin on my wall, to hold close, to enshrine in a cheap black book. In four months I’ll have to pack everything up again and move across the country to New York City.
Nothing is forever, but what joy it is to have everything for now.
Welcome to Food on Film II.
The first photo I want to showcase in this issue is a red velvet bundt cake from my friend’s 22nd birthday. The glint of the “22” balloons, the red nails, the VS waistband, that night I was transported to 2009. I love celebrating birthdays, and chain bakery Nothing Bundt Cakes is the frontrunner for festive indulgence, having made an appearance at numerous birthdays I’ve been to this school year.
Traveling a little farther west, The Jefferson Market is my favorite hidden gem in Ann Arbor. The cozy neighborhood restaurant would fit seamlessly into an episode of Twin Peaks. Nestled between a church and primary school, the diner has a lovely pastry counter, teal formica tables, and classic American breakfast fare.
As a dyed-in-the-wool Southern Californian, I have been privileged to enjoy countless delicious avocados. I can confidently say that the avocado toast at The Jefferson Market is the best I’ve ever had.
Laid across a slice of toasted country wheat, the thick wedges of avocado are so buttery it’s as if they were just picked off the tree. The bread is drizzled with just enough olive oil to accentuate the nutty avocado, but the tartine's best and most unique feature is what’s on top. Every JM avocado toast is heaped with a generous portion of cashew “parmesan.” Made with cashews, nutritional yeast, garlic powder, and flecked with a few chili flakes, the faux parm has a crumbly texture but remains soft, adding the perfect salty crunch to the toast.
Pictured above:
Buttermilk Pancakes, one plain, one with strawberries & whipped cream (two buttermilk pancakes served with Michigan maple syrup and whipped butter)
Bacon & a house-made biscuit with whipped butter
If you’re curious why the avocado toast is conspicuously missing from the photo above, it’s earnestly because I couldn’t wait to take a bite (or several) as soon as the plate was placed in front of me. If you ever want to try the best toast in the Midwest and feel like you’re being directed by the late great David Lynch, stop by The Jefferson Market.
Another must-see if you ever find yourself in Ann Arbor is Argus Farm Stop. A bright yellow house on Liberty Avenue, the grocer and restaurant has an adjoining greenhouse with cozy seating. Argus Farm Stop is supplied exclusively by local farmers and offers fresh produce boxes, wine, coffee, and teas.
Something I will miss so dearly when I graduate is sitting at Argus’s Packard Café with my best friend. A smaller second location with the same delicious provisions, the Packard Café has a crate of day-old pastries sold at a discount in keeping with their food security mission.
In the past four years, my best friend (pictured on the left) and I have pawed through the discount bin searching for their impeccable lemon scone and browsed their selection of locally brewed earl grey and lavender kombucha innumerable times.
The final piece of my university experience in this newsletter is this hilariously lopsided photo I snapped while at a Harry Potter-themed trivia night at Good Time Charley’s. Although I could only contribute fragments of (mostly inaccurate) decade-old wizard knowledge, enjoying french fries while my roommates frantically identified obscure mythical creatures was a necessary inclusion.
Recently, I had the pleasure of traveling to New York to visit my new office and stop by Chelsea Market. Inspired by Italian street food vendors, Filaga Pizzeria offers flatbread pizzas by the slice. As a bonafide black olive apologist, I was thrilled to bite into the vegan puttanesca and was not disappointed. Seated at the countertop where I could survey the steaming slices of pizza, I nearly inhaled mine, which had a kick of chili, fresh tomato, and that quintessential olive-y bite.
Dolce Inferno pizza (pepperoni, sweet gorgonzola, nduja, caramelized tropea onions, mint, tomato sauce)
Vegan Puttanesca pizza (marinated sunset medley tomatoes, calabrian chili peppers, capers, taggiasche olives, tomato sauce)
When I was in elementary school, the highlight of my year was the end-of-year pizza and ice cream party. As an adult, I was so excited when I peered behind the Filaga bar seating and spotted Seed + Mill dispensing swirls of soft serve.
Before stumbling into Seed + Mill in the cul-de-sac corner of Chelsea Market, I am ashamed to say that I had never heard of “halva.” Enjoyed throughout the Middle East and North Africa, the Balkans, Central Asia, and South Asia, this confection is a thick paste made with tahini, sugar, spices, and sometimes rosewater or nuts.
Seed + Mill is the first store in the US dedicated to sesame products and hosts a variety of sauces, sweets, and tahini-themed gifts. The cup pictured is their signature Halva Sundae:
Oat milk-based vanilla tahini soft serve, halva, and a drizzle of tahini
I am of two minds about this dessert. While I loved the subtle sweetness of the tahini and the smooth soft serve, it was a bit one-note. For its novelty, however, I would certainly suggest giving the sesame sundae a try if you’re ever in New York.
I would also like to give an honorable mention to this National Geographic close up of Bar Suzette in Chelsea Market. I have flirted with the notion of purchasing a crêpe griddle for my own personal use more times than I would like to admit. I love this photo because of the candid banana slice and expanse of Nutella.
The second food hall I visited in New York was the Time Out Market in Brooklyn. I had high hopes for Time Out after I visited the Chicago location at Fulton Market and had ascendant vegetarian steamed dumplings and cucumber salad. Unfortunately, neither the labyrinthine layout nor the dan dan noodles I chose lived up to Time Out’s Chicago sister market.
Despite my culinary disappointment, I had a wonderful strawberry matcha at the famous Cha Cha Matcha per my friend’s recommendation. I love food halls so much because of the smorgasbord of items you can cobble together. Frankly, I barely noticed my food was over-salted because I was enjoying the company so much.
My last stop is the aftermath of the coffee and dessert spread at The Yale Club. In keeping with the theme of this issue, I couldn’t find an updated menu that listed everything because it was rotated out so quickly. I absolutely love the silverware at the club, between the leather chairs and wainscotted dining room, I feel like I’m stepping back in time whenever I visit. With no menu to be found, all I have is the memories of a beautiful meal with family.
The song of the week this week is Bad Bunny’s recent “DtMF” which has been making the rounds on social media for its touching lyrics:
Debí tirar más fotos de cuando te tuve
I should've taken more pictures when I had you
I love you. Until next time,
Avery