Happy Fourth of July!

I hope everyone is enjoying some summertime with loved ones, eating something off the grill, and maybe (safely) shooting off a few fireworks in the cul de sac or watching a pyrotechnic display at the high school football stadium.

In anticipation of celebrating our country's birthday, I found myself wondering about the history of perhaps the most American of summer symbols: a watermelon sitting in the middle of the picnic table on Independence Day.

My Love of Watermelon

I’ve eaten watermelon all over the world. Avatiach. Sandía. Vasemelona, Dalla, Dtaeng-moh. Once upon a time I could ask for it in a dozen different languages. I’ve eaten watermelon on street corners and beaches, in crowded cities and quiet villages, atop archaeological sites and among the dunes of the Sahara Desert. It’s hands down my favorite fruit.

Mark Twain called watermelon: “The chief of this world’s luxuries, king…over all the fruits of the earth. When one has tasted it, he knows what the angels eat.”

I understand exactly what he means.

One summer while visiting my dad in Abilene, Texas, I was introduced to the monstrosity that is the Texan watermelon. Yes, it’s true. Everything is bigger in Texas, and this one didn’t disappoint. The melon we brought home was a dark green, almost black, and more than 15 pounds.

Home alone with MTV playing in the background, I cut the top off that mega melon and began carving out chunks of the ruby red flesh with a spoon, and spit the seeds into a Dixie cup on the coffee table. By the end of the Top 20 Countdown I had hollowed out the entire melon so that there wasn’t even a hint of pink on the inside rind. The Dixie cup was full to the brim with shiny black seeds.

Despite feeling a bit bloated, I took my little treasures outside and planted each and every last one of them along the fence line. For the rest of the summer I faithfully watered those seeds until a couple dozen little green vines began to break through the red Texas dirt.

My first garden.

Unfortunately, I never benefited from the fruits of my labor. I’d planted too late in the summer, and my visit ended before the melons arrived. But watermelon has always felt like a source of magic ever since.

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The History of Watermelon

The first watermelon originated in Northeast Africa, somewhere along the Nile Valley. Its closest ancestor was likely the Kordofan, a small, pale green wild melon from Sudan with thick skin and seeds nearly the size of my thumbnails. Cultivated versions of the melon are depicted in Egyptian hieroglyphs going back 5,000 years, and watermelon seeds were even found in the tomb of King Tut.

Those first watermelons didn’t look much like the ones we eat today. The flesh was light green or white, and they probably tasted slightly bitter. Rather than being prized for their sweetness, watermelons were prized for their namesake, water.

I’ve spent some time in the deserts of North Africa, and it can be hot. There is nothing more satisfying than a melon after a long, smelly camel ride. These fruits were essentially a natural canteen. Durable, portable containers capable of carrying hydration and nutrition across long distances. And back then, nothing went to waste. The seeds themselves were valuable as food. Rich in protein and fat, watermelon seeds are still roasted and eaten as snacks across the continent, and sometimes ground into flour to be added to soups or stews.

It was a few thousand years more before Mediterranean communities bred melons red and sweet. Israel has some of the best. I actually got to sample a few dozen of those red avatiachs on Kibbutz Kfar Menachem back in my archaeology days. We ate a melon almost every day after sweaty mornings of excavating.

Melons came to Europe in the Middle Ages, and some of the finest are from southern Spain. Each August, the town of Yeste celebrates its annual Fiesta de la Sandía in honor of Saint Bartholomew. Part harvest festival, part watermelon battle, revelers drench one another in a sticky baptism of watermelon juice and wine.

Watermelons also grow in Asia where the Japanese obsess over meticulous cultivation. They even grow a square version! And in China, which grows more watermelons than the rest of the world combined, the fruit has long symbolized prosperity and good fortune. It remains a popular gift when visiting family during summertime.

But the most familiar crops of watermelon are right here in California, Texas, and Georgia. And the story of how they got to America, and then became a symbol of Independence Day is worth a closer look.

Watermelon and the Fourth of July

Why did watermelon become so closely associated with the Fourth of July? Part of the answer is simple. It ripens at exactly the right moment.

Peak watermelon season arrives in July and August, just as Americans migrate outdoors toward barbecues, church picnics, family reunions, county fairs, and fireworks displays.

In the early years of our country, before refrigeration and cross-country supply chains, watermelon was a magical picnic snack or dessert. Cold, sweet, refreshing, portable, and large enough to feed an entire family, they were cheap and easy to share with strangers. It was no wonder they were popular when folks were getting together to celebrate.

But like most food traditions in the US, America’s relationship with watermelon is more complicated than that. Historians believe watermelon likely arrived in North America aboard slave ships, carried by kidnapped West Africans who carried with them generations of agricultural knowledge about cultivating the fruit. As a result, many of the earliest American watermelon crops originated in the South, grown in slave gardens. After emancipation, watermelon became an important cash crop for newly freed Black farmers and entrepreneurs who sold fruit in towns and cities.

One of our great symbols of summer was once a symbol of Black financial freedom.

The success frightened many white Southerners, and so they turned the watermelon into Jim Crow propaganda. Frequently in the early 1900s, postcards, advertisements, and political cartoons depicted racist imagery of African Americans and watermelons as an attempt by Jim Crow supporters to co-opt this symbol of Black independence and economic success, and instead associate it with laziness, childishness, and inferiority.

Enjoying Watermelon Today

Today watermelon belongs to everyone again. It can be found at church picnics, family reunions, Little League practices, country fairs, fireworks, and on paper plates balanced between our knees.

Maybe that's why watermelon feels so right on the Fourth of July. Not because it has always been American, but because—like so many of us and those who came before us—it became American.

The watermelon arrived from somewhere else. It survived injustice. It was a source of economic independence. It endured prejudice and racism. And somehow, through all of that, it has become a symbol of celebration for 250 years of this crazy, contradictory, freedom-loving country.

I know not everyone will celebrate the same way today. Some may not celebrate at all. But I hope there’s a watermelon on your table anyway. I hope you get your hands sticky. I hope you stay on the back porch until well after dark. And for one day at least, I hope we choose to be generous with one another. To feed our neighbors. To welcome those who see the world differently than we do. To bury a few grudges, share a few stories, and remember that we probably have more in common than we think.

After all, a watermelon was never meant to be eaten alone.

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Recipe Below: Independence Day Watermelon Feat Salad

Don’t forget that for paid subscribers, at the bottom of this email I have my own favorite recipe for watermelon. It’s a sweet and salty salad with watermelon, feta, lemon-pickled red onions, and fresh herbs that will wow at your picnic.

!!!FIRST CookStack Collective: Rebecca Blackwell!!!

And if one watermelon recipe isn't enough, paid subscribers can join us on Friday, July 17 at 4pm PT / 7pm ET, for the inaugural CookStack Collective class. Rebecca will be teaching live from the galley of her sailboat, preparing a colorful hummus platter, sesame chicken salad, and…a watermelon salad—proof that summer may have many flavors, but watermelon is almost always one of them. I’ll be there too with some watermelon trivia!

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Coming in July: Food, Blood Sugar, and Metabolic Health with Beth Bollinger

A few years ago, I discovered I was edging toward prediabetes and started paying closer attention to how food affected my body. For my next live conversation in July 9th at 9am PT. I’ll be joined by metabolic health expert Beth Bollinger to discuss blood sugar, the foods that trigger it, and the simple habits and foods that can help create more stable health over time—as well as a few cool tech gadgets that helped me learn more about my body.

Add it to Your Calendar

Stay Connected

• Follow along on YouTube, Instagram and TikTok for video content, reels, and behind-the-scenes thoughts. I’m also on Facebook and LinkedIn.

• Say hi on Substack Notes—I’m posting almost every day about my random reflections on life.

• Join me in Chat. It’s a space just for subscribers, kind of like a group text but less embarrassing. Download the app, tap the Chat icon (it looks like two speech bubbles at the bottom), and find the latest “Enlightened Omnivore” thread.

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RECIPE: Fourth of July Watermelon, Feta, and Lemon-Pickled Red Onion Salad

This is one of my favorite summer salads: sweet watermelon, salty feta, fresh herbs, and just enough acidity to make the whole thing sing. The salt from the feta pairs

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Before we begin: I'm excited to announce a new benefit for paid subscribers—the CookStack Collective, a year-long series of live cooking classes with twelve Substack food writers. I'm also hoping to welcome 20 new paid subscribers this summer (18 to go!) to help support the essays, podcasts, workshops, and conversations we're building together here.

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News of SpaceX’s recent IPO got me thinking about the universe right here on Earth.

When I was in junior high, I wrote President George H.W. Bush an impassioned letter that we should rename Columbus Day to “Explorers’ Day.” Instead of celebrating a fifteenth-century navigator with a complicated legacy, I argued, we should honor America’s astronauts—the men and women who had pushed farther into the unknown than anyone had gone before. I never heard back from the White House. Maybe Bush was busy.

My love of space was shaped by growing up in the 1980s and ‘90s, with Star Wars and Robotech. But, I was also a NASA nerd. I watched The Right Stuff a hundred times. I had Goddard Space Flight Center stickers on my notebook, a telescope in my room, and stayed up late to watch CSPAN coverage of the Hubble Telescope. And when the Space Shuttle Endeavour took off on its maiden flight, it felt like redemption for the Challenger disaster that I’d witnessed on a classroom TV screen.

Space exploration was humanity at its best. Curiosity. Courage. Cooperation.

Which is probably why, years later, I became an early admirer of Elon Musk.

Long before his infatuation with Twitter, or his distraction with DOGE, Elon Musk had a boyish infatuation with space that reminded me of my own. He also had an unbridled drive to innovate, to solve big problems, and to give two shits about how others perceived his path to success.

Knowing next to nothing about him, I decided to read his biography written by a college classmate of mine. Musk’s enthusiasm, drive, and passion came through in every chapter. So did his single-minded rationality, systems thinking, and utilitarianism. The way he talked about enthusiastically deleting things that got in his way made me wonder if he was talking about more than just buggy code.

Musk was tackling impossibly large problems: the environment, space exploration, global Internet access for all. And while more and more people lauded (or feared) his simultaneously growing wealth, I admired him because he seemed to be the only person with shovel-ready solutions to solve the world’s biggest problems, and he was willing to risk everything to give them a try.

Then something shifted. Somewhere along the way, I noticed a change. Not just in Elon, but in myself.

I realized I wasn’t peering up into the sky nearly as often anymore. Instead, I found myself looking down. Not because I’d lost my sense of wonder or enthusiasm for the cosmos. But because I’d found it somewhere else.

In 2014, I left my corporate career and started working as a butcher. With my head down, focused on the block, I thought I was simply learning how to cut meat and provide greater food transparency to my family and community. Instead, I stumbled into an entirely new universe.

Rather than heavens filled with planets, stars, nebulae, and galaxies, I was learning about fields of fungi, nematodes, roots, and watersheds. I was learning from farmers who stewarded their own soil-based galaxies of billions and billions of microbes. The astonishing choreography of all the Earth’s systems was just as fascinating as any images beamed back from space aboard the Galileo probe.

I also realized that the more I learned about regenerative agriculture, the harder it became to think of nature as some primitive system waiting to be improved through techno-optimism alone. Increasingly, I grew frustrated with environmental conversations that focused on replacing natural systems rather than better understanding–and cooperating with–them.

Folks talked about cultured alt meat replacing flesh-and-blood livestock, or patented GMO seeds outpacing natural selection. Artificial intelligence would soon replace farmers. Why not rely on geo-engineering, or space mirrors, or giant vacuums to clean up all this heat and carbon that Mother Nature simply couldn’t fix?

I’m no luddite. I appreciate technology. But instead of asking, “How can technology replace Nature,” I think we need to ask, “How technology can cooperate with her.”

Because to me, Nature is the ultimate technology. Every pasture, prairie, or forest represents four billion years of iterative design that no amount of R&D or venture capital can out-engineer. That’s why photosynthesis still outperforms solar panels, soil microbes manage nutrient exchange more elegantly than any supply chain, mycelium resembles the best-coded computing networks, and prairies passively sequester carbon without electricity or circuit boards.

Every few months, I see a Falcon rocket climb into the California sky above the cabin. It’s awesome. But now when I watch a Falcon or a Starship take off, spewing all that smoke and fire, and often exploding into billions of pieces, I can’t help but feel that all that destructive and wasteful energy in pursuit of a Mars-shot mentality is anchored in escapism rather than exploration.

Young Steve looked up because he believed the greatest mysteries of the universe were hidden among the stars. Older Steve still looks up from time to time. But he finds just as much wonder kneeling in a pasture, picking blackberries in his backyard, or watching mushrooms emerge after a rain.

For me, the future is not waiting for us on Mars. The future is already here.

Beneath our boots.

Become a Paid Subscriber

If you enjoy these essays, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. My goal this summer is to add 20 new paid supporters (18 to go) before the end of July. In addition to the weekly newsletter, paid subscribers receive access to monthly cooking and kitchen workshops, quarterly Seasonal Table Live gatherings, exclusive recipes and downloadable resources, workshop recordings, the subscriber chat, and the full archive of more than 200 articles exploring food, nature, health, travel, and the stories that connect them.

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New for Paid Subscribers: The CookStack Collective

One of the things I miss most about butcher shops, restaurant kitchens, and family tables is learning alongside other people. That’s why I’m excited to announce a new benefit for paid subscribers: the CookStack Collective, a year-long collaboration with eleven incredible food writers, bakers, cooks, and teachers from across Substack. Over the next year, paid subscribers will receive access to 12 live cooking classes, recipes and class materials, and recordings of every session if they can’t attend live. Topics range from kimchi and fermentation to Italian meal prep, baking, soups, salads, seasonal cooking, and practical kitchen skills. If you’ve been considering upgrading to paid, this may be the strongest collection of benefits I’ve been able to offer yet.

Check Out More

Coming in July: Food, Blood Sugar, and Metabolic Health with Beth Bollinger

A few years ago, I discovered I was edging toward prediabetes and started paying closer attention to how food affected my body. For my next live conversation, I’ll be joined by metabolic health expert Beth Bollinger to discuss blood sugar, the foods that trigger it, and the simple habits and foods that can help create more stable health over time—as well as a few cool tech gadgets that helped me learn more about my body.

Add it to Your Calendar

Stay Connected

• Follow along on YouTube, Instagram and TikTok for video content, reels, and behind-the-scenes thoughts. I’m also on Facebook and LinkedIn.

• Say hi on Substack Notes—I’m posting almost every day about my random reflections on life.

• Join me in Chat. It’s a space just for subscribers, kind of like a group text but less embarrassing. Download the app, tap the Chat icon (it looks like two speech bubbles at the bottom), and find the latest “Enlightened Omnivore” thread.

Share

Read null in the Substack app

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One of the things I miss most about butcher shops, restaurant kitchens, and family tables is learning alongside other people.

I’m excited to announce a new offering to paid subscribers that will add even more community-building to the kitchen table. The CookStack Collective is an attempt to bring a little more communal cooking to Enlightened Omnivore

I’ve joined eleven remarkable food writers, bakers, cooks, and teachers from across Substack to create a year-long series of live cooking classes designed to help us spend more time in our kitchens and more time learning from one another.

Over the next year, paid subscribers will receive:

• Twelve live Zoom classes
• Recipes and class materials
• Access to all twelve recordings
• A chance to cook alongside some incredibly talented teachers

The classes cover everything from kimchi and fermentation to Italian meal prep, baking, seasonal cooking, entertaining, soups, salads, and practical kitchen skills.

With this new offering, I’d love to welcome twenty additional paid subscribers into Enlightened Omnivore this summer.

Not because bigger is always better, but because subscriptions like yours create the time and space for independent writing, podcasts, workshops, recipes, and conversations like these to continue growing.

If you’ve been considering joining us on the paid side, this might be the strongest collection of benefits I’ve been able to offer yet.

And if you’re already here, thank you for helping build a small corner of the internet where food remains connected to history, place, nature, and community.

Now let’s make something delicious together.

Here’s the line-up

1. JULY: Friday, July 17, 2026, 7 pm EST: Join Rebecca Blackwell from the galley of her sailboat to make 3 easy summer dishes: A colorful hummus platter, sesame chicken salad, and watermelon and feta salad.

2. Friday, August 21, 2026, 12 pm Pacific/3 pm Eastern: Join Betty Williams for a fermentation primer and learn to make 2 kinds of Korean kimchi: quick-pickled Cucumber Kimchi and fermented Cabbage Kimchi.

3. Sunday, September 2026: Join Anna Vocino to cook through some of the best recipes from her new cookbook, Eat Happy Cocktail Hour! Anna will show us how to make some low-carb party food, including Low Carb GF Pigs In A Blanket, Caprese Martini, Dill Pickle Ranch Dip, and Pom Pom Mocktails.

4. Thursday, October 15, 2026, 10 am PT/1 pm EST: Join Nicki Sizemore to make two seasonal staples — a whipped ricotta dip and a grain-free pumpkin apple cake — alongside simple practices for cooking with more intention and joy.

5. Tuesday, November 10, 2026, 4 pm EST/ 1 pm PST: Join Kerry Faber to make a cozy fall favorite, Cabbage-Wrapped Chicken Parm Meatballs.

6. Friday, December 4, 2026: Stephanie Hansen - Soup or Holiday apps

7. Sunday, January 24, 2027, 3 pm Central, 4 pm Eastern Rachel Ciordas - Focaccia Pizza, Ice Water Salad, and a Champagne Cocktail- all GF

8. Tuesday, February 27, 2027, noon EST: Emma Frisch, Classic Italian Bolognese Pasta with a Frisch Twist - batch-cooking for families, tips for picky eaters, and dietary restrictions

9. Tuesday, March 16, 2027, 4 PM Pacific / 7 PM Eastern: Just in time for St Patrick’s Day, join Kate McDermott and learn to make a Classic Irish Apple Tart in this virtual session live from her Pie Cottage kitchen. You will receive a bonus recipe for a delicious custard sauce to serve with the tart, too.

10. Sunday, April 18, 2027, 9 am PST /1 pm EST/7 pm Italy time CET: Join Lolly Martyn to meal prep like an Italian nonna: We’ll make the simply delicious family favorite pasta e ceci (chickpeas) and effortlessly whip up some veggie broth and sugo (red sauce) for your freezer or fridge at the same time!

11. Friday, May 7, 2027, 12 pm PT / 3 PM ET: - Buying the Best Meat - join me for a practical one-hour workshop on navigating today’s confusing meat landscape. Learn what meat labels actually mean, how to buy on a budget, and the questions you should ask your butcher, meat counter, or online vendor. You’ll also learn a few simple at-home butchery techniques to help stretch your dollars with minimal effort.

12. Thursday, June 3, 2027, 1 pm EST: Sheryl O’Connell - Summer themed - legume-based and portable salads.

And, if you can’t make every class, no worries, because your paid subscription gives you ACCESS TO ALL 12 CLASS RECORDINGS!

So not only will you get full access to my newsletter, you’ll get the added bonus of the 12 CookStack Collective Live Classes on Zoom!

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While you’re reading this, I’m probably somewhere over the middle of the country, wedged into an airplane seat on my way to Pennsylvania.

This weekend I’m dropping my middle daughter off at a summer pre-college program where she’ll spend the next four weeks exploring storytelling and writing. She has always loved stories. She’s also a good writer in her own right.

Tomorrow should be exciting for many of you. It’s a double-header: the Summer Solstice and Father’s Day.

But I’m on a simple touch-and-go operation this weekend. I’m not even allowed to stay at my daughter’s school for dinner tonight. Instead, I'll turn right back around to sleep in an airport hotel. And tomorrow, while many families will be gathering around backyard grills, or just letting dad sleep in a little later, I’ll be spending much of the longest, dad-loving day of the year indoors, or at altitude.

Looking back at all the seasonal shifts I’ve shared, I realized something. I’ve written about autumn. I’ve written about winter. I even wrote a poem about the Spring Equinox. Yet somehow, in these three years of publishing Enlightened Omnivore, I’ve never devoted an essay to the summer solstice itself.

That surprised me a bit, especially considering how the summer solstice may be one of humanity’s oldest holidays

For thousands of years, people have recognized something important about watching the sun reach its highest point in the sky. Each culture arrived at different rituals. Some focused on fire. Others incorporated water. Some build monuments that aligned celestially. Others observed solemn ceremonies. But they all followed a similar line of truth.

Be present. Be outside. Move your body. Practice gratitude. Celebrate the abundance that spring has already provided. And most importantly, recognize that every season eventually turns.

That last part stuck with me.

For many years, summer has been synonymous with France in our family. It meant olive trees, long lunches, village markets, sweating glasses of rosé, and reconnecting with people we hadn’t seen for a whole year. Summer smelled like lavender, and it even had its own song, sung by cicadas perched in plane trees. The rhythm of visiting my aunt in the South of France each July felt structural, permanent, part of our identity.

But this year, we won’t be making that trip. My children are all headed out on their own adventures without their parents. That’s a good thing. It’s honestly a great thing. But there are only so many days of summer, and this time we simply came up short. No room for France.

I didn’t think I’d be as disappointed as I am. But it feels like a lost part of my routine. Like when my last kid headed to junior high, and I couldn’t walk him to school anymore. What do you mean we’re not going to Pont du Gard, the Aix market, or to see the fireworks on Bastille Day? I guess the silver lining is that I won’t have to wait another year. I’ll be back to see my aunt in October for the olive harvest.

But this solstice lesson hits hard. Nothing stays fixed. Children grow up. Schedules change. Relationships evolve. The traditions I cherish eventually transform into new traditions. I make room for these, and then recognize–sometimes begrudgingly–the impermanence of the old ones, and how things may never be the same. The seasons teach me that life is always in motion. We can’t hold the world still.

The solstice also reminds me that even as the light reaches its peak, the wheel has already begun turning toward the dark. In fact, it never stopped spinning in the first place. The longest day, with all its abundance and warmth—also signals that shorter days are on their way. Tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that. Each day will slip faster over the horizon.

The abundance of summer is temporary. That sounds a little depressing, or even downright sad, but I don’t think it has to be. I actually think it’s kind of liberating. Because once I realize that the bounty of summer is limited in duration, I feel compelled to appreciate it even more while it’s here.

The strawberries taste sweeter. The midday swims feel more precious. The backyard evening conversations linger a little longer until someone has to turn on a light. The people I love are less an assumption, and more a focus of my days.

Maybe that’s why solstice celebrations have survived for so long. Not because our ancestors were obsessed with astronomy, or agriculture, bonfires or maypoles, but because they understood something essential about being human.

We need reasons to stop. We need reminders to appreciate. We need rituals that pull us out of the routine long enough to notice what is flourishing around us, and what is fleeting.

For my family, France became that ritual. It steadied us, strengthened us, and served as an emotional anchor even as life blew by. And it may become that yet again next summer.

For your family, the ritual might be a cabin on a lake, an annual camping trip, Sunday dinners with friends, or movie nights that stretch past everyone’s bedtime. The specifics don't matter nearly as much as the habit itself. Something that celebrates abundance while acknowledging transition. Give it a shot. You won’t be disapointed.

I board a plane early tomorrow so I might not see the sun rise on the longest day of the year. For Father’s Day, I’ll probably grab something to eat in the terminal, rather than my usual breakfast in bed.

But once in the air, I’ll keep an eye out the window for all those signs of summer—pools splashing, gardens growing, families gathering—all signaling that summer has arrived and won’t be here forever.

I hope you get a moment to appreciate it, too.

Five Simple Ways to Celebrate the Summer Solstice

You don’t need a bonfire, a ceremonial dance, or a pilgrimage to celebrate the longest day of the year. Sometimes the simplest rituals are the most meaningful. Try one of these simple suggestions this weekend to take notice of the summer solstice. If you already have a ritual for solstice, share it in the comments.

Leave a comment

Watch the Sunrise or Sunset Together

The solstice is ultimately a celebration of light. Wake up early, stay up late, or do both. Let the sun remind you that every day is a gift.

Eat Outside

Whether it’s a backyard barbecue, a picnic in the park, or dessert on the patio, take a meal outdoors. Summer was meant to be experienced under open skies.

Hold a Family Storytelling Night

Share favorite memories from the past. Tell family stories. Ask grandparents about their childhoods. Invite everyone to share what they look forward to this summer.

Spend Time Near Water

Many traditions associate summer with water, emotion, and connection. Visit a beach, lake, river, pool, or simply run through the sprinklers with your kids.

Create a Gratitude Circle

Ask each family member to share one thing they are grateful for, one thing they are excited about, and one thing they hope to grow during the coming season.

Become a Paid Subscriber

If you enjoy these essays, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. My goal this summer is to add 20 new paid supporters before the end of July. In addition to the weekly newsletter, paid subscribers receive access to monthly cooking and kitchen workshops, quarterly Seasonal Table Live gatherings, exclusive recipes and downloadable resources, workshop recordings, the subscriber chat, and the full archive of more than 200 articles exploring food, nature, health, travel, and the stories that connect them.

Subscribe now

I couldn’t do this without your support, so thank you to all my subscribers. f you’ve been considering upgrading, I’d love to know what would make Enlightened Omnivore even more valuable to you.

Coming in July: Food, Blood Sugar, and Metabolic Health with Beth Bollinger

A few years ago, I discovered I was edging toward prediabetes and started paying closer attention to how food affected my body. For my next live conversation, I’ll be joined by metabolic health expert Beth Bollinger to discuss blood sugar, the foods that trigger it, and the simple habits and foods that can help create more stable health over time—as well as a few cool tech gadgets that helped me learn more about my body.

Add it to Your Calendar

Stay Connected

• Follow along on YouTube, Instagram and TikTok for video content, reels, and behind-the-scenes thoughts. I’m also on Facebook and LinkedIn.

• Say hi on Substack Notes—I’m posting almost every day about my random reflections on life.

• Join me in Chat. It’s a space just for subscribers, kind of like a group text but less embarrassing. Download the app, tap the Chat icon (it looks like two speech bubbles at the bottom), and find the latest “Enlightened Omnivore” thread.

Share

Get more from Steve Sabicer in the Substack app

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Last Friday, Nicki Sizemore and I hosted the second installment of The Seasonal Table, our quarterly Substack Live series exploring what each season means in the kitchen, at the table, and in our daily lives.

You can watch the full replay above.

Subscribe now

This season’s conversation centered on summer and the approaching solstice. We talked about why seasonal transitions mattered so much to earlier generations and why many of us have lost the habit of marking them. We explored summer through several different traditions, including the Medicine Wheel and Traditional Chinese Medicine, and found ourselves returning to a common question:

What if summer isn’t a season for accomplishing more, but rather for strengthening what matters most?

Along the way, Nicki shared some of her family’s summer rituals, including how the celebrate the the first zucchini blossoms from the garden. We also talked about why summer food often tastes better with less effort, how sauces and condiments can transform simple meals, and the surprising kitchen tool we both agreed we can’t live without.

And of course, we made food.

Nicki made a whipped labneh topped with pistachio dukkah, while I shared my Provençal-inspired tapenade loaded with olives, capers, anchovies, and a rosemary-infused olive oil. Both recipes are perfect examples of the kind of cooking I gravitate toward this time of year: simple, flexible, and designed to bring people together around a table.

As the solstice approaches, I hope you’ll find a way to mark the season—whether that’s a dinner with friends, a walk at sunset, a jump in a refreshing body of water, or simply paying a little more attention to the abundance that’s already here.

Helpful links

• My Tapenade Recipe

• Nicki’s Whipped Labneh with Pistachio Dukkah

• My favorite Mini Spatulas that I talked about during our chat

• My favorite kalamata olives at Trader Joe’s

• Crown Prince Anchovy Paste in a TUBE!

Enjoy the replay, and let me know what summer rituals, traditions, or recipes shape this season for you.

Steve

Coming in July: Food, Blood Sugar, and Metabolic Health with Beth Bollinger

A few years ago, I discovered I was edging toward prediabetes and started paying closer attention to how food affected my body. For my next live conversation, I'll be joined by metabolic health expert to discuss blood sugar, the foods that trigger it, and the simple habits and foods that can help create more stable health over time—as well as a few cool tech gadgets that helped me learn more about my body.

Add it to Your Calendar

Stay Connected

• Follow along on YouTube, Instagram and TikTok for video content, reels, and behind-the-scenes thoughts. I’m also on Facebook and LinkedIn.

• Say hi on Substack Notes—I’m posting almost every day about my random reflections on life.

• Join me in Chat. It’s a space just for subscribers, kind of like a group text but less embarrassing. Download the app, tap the Chat icon (it looks like two speech bubbles at the bottom), and find the latest “Enlightened Omnivore” thread.

  Share

  

  Get more from Steve Sabicer in the Substack app

  Available for iOS and Android

  Get the app

Register here

This week I interviewed Bobby Flay.

If you had told 25-year-old me that one day I’d be on the phone interviewing one of the most recognizable chefs in America for one of the most popular food publications on the internet, I would have laughed. Not because it seemed impossible, but because I would have assumed I’d have some more grown up job by now.

But here I am, still trying to connect the dots.

I thought I had twenty minutes to do it. But when I got the conference number and Flay politely answered, I could hear a TV in the background, like I was bothering this guy with another cookie cutter list of questions. When I tried to confirm I had 20 minutes, a nice young voice suddenly came on and corrected me. Mr. Flay only had ten minutes. Turns out, this is how these things work.

The interview with Flay was about steak. But not about how it was raised, or where it came from. Not its history or its carbon footprint. Nothing about where food comes from, or why we eat it.

Just steak. How to cook it. How long to preheat a pan. The kinds of questions I’m sure Bobby Flay has answered hundreds of times.

I was doing a job. And although I was nervous–especially because I now only had half the time to complete it–I was up for the challenge. I stuck to the script. And waited until I’d gotten what I needed before I asked a more authentic question. What did he think about grass-finished beef? With his expert media training, Flay expertly dodged a quote that might alienate big beef or smaller regenerative ranchers.

As the last minutes ticked down, I asked about Bobby’s favorite beef cut. But I already knew the answer. I’d done my homework, and he’d answered the question countless times before. Without hesitation he said skirt. A flavorful but less common cut. Something normally relegated to fajitas or grind. But he’s right, when sliced against the grain, it’s a great steak. Just ask the French bistros that have been serving it for centuries.

But my curious butcher brain couldn’t resist the follow up.

“What about flatiron?” I asked, stealing a quick look at my phone. Ninety seconds left.

The silence was painfully long. And this wasn’t a thoughtful silence. It was the disdainful kind.

“Flatiron? From the shoulder?” he finally clarified. “No. I’m not interested in that.”

I had apparently spent one of my precious last minutes challenging Bobby Flay on steak, and I was summarily shot down.

But then my final question got a laugh. I asked if social media was actually a good thing for food culture, or was it just making everyone more anxious. Bobby laughed. And that was probably the most authentic moment in the whole exchange.

I had to chuckle too because that question perfectly captured something I struggle with about food culture and the articles I sometimes feel compelled to write.

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Bobby’s quote and my words will cause search terms to explode. For now, skirt steak will be king, and fllatiron will be relegated to the edges of the Internet, tucked up inside the shoulder blade hidden from the algorithms.

I’ve spent much of my life rooting for things like the flatiron. The overlooked cut. The independent butcher. The small farmer. The local restaurant. The story hiding in plain sight. And for a long time, I thought my previous lives were all disparate journeys. Separate short stories simply connected by a main character. Now, connecting those dots, it’s becoming clearer and clearer that they are chapters of the same story.

The butcher taught me how food systems actually work. The restaurant taught me hard work and hospitality. Public relations taught me how information moves through the world. Parenthood taught me patience. Writing taught me how to connect it all, and to put my own mark on the words.

For years I’ve wondered where this writing path was headed. And this week, when I felt like I’d summited one of the taller peaks, the view from up there simply revealed a whole range of summits and valleys left to trek.

And maybe that’s exactly how it’s supposed to work.

Connecting the dots isn’t really about finding a destination. It’s about realizing that the dots were never random in the first place. As the seasons change, I find myself reflecting on what I’ve planted, what I’ve nurtured, and what continues to grow. The food, the people, the places, and the stories. The rhythms of a life that only begin to make sense when viewed from a little farther down the road.

My younger self was always focused on the goal. Now, the goal is less about accomplishment, and more about simply becoming more fully myself. To appreciate that my curiosity is all I can impart to this world. To remember to take note of what others might overlook. To root for the flatiron when everyone else is chasing skirt steak. And to celebrate when a few folks want to come along for the ride.

If there is a lesson hiding in this strange season of life, perhaps it’s this.

The things that appear disconnected are often connected more deeply than I realized. If I can sit with them long enough, the picture begins to emerge. Not a picture of success, achievement, or arrival, but a portrait anchored in curiosity, experience, and attention—a picture that looks increasingly like the person I’ve been becoming all along.

Thanks for the lesson Bobby Flay.

Enlightened Omnivore Paid subscribers receive periodic recipes, practical monthly workshops on cooking, sourcing, and kitchen skills, live conversations and Seasonal Table gatherings, and downloadable resources drawn from my years as a butcher, restaurateur, and writer. Most importantly, your support helps sustain independent storytelling about food, farming, curiosity, and our relationship with the natural world.

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!!TODAY!! The Enlightened Freezer Workshop

Most people use their freezer like a graveyard for leftovers and mystery meat. But chefs, butchers, and thoughtful home cooks know something different: your freezer might be the most important tool in your kitchen.

Join me for a practical workshop on Saturday, June 13th, @9am PT / Noon ET to learn everything about freezing foods: how to organize things, preserve seasonal items, and make everyday cooking dramatically easier and cheaper. Paid subscribers can register at the link below.

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• Follow along on YouTube, Instagram and TikTok for video content, reels, and behind-the-scenes thoughts. I’m also on Facebook and LinkedIn.

• Say hi on Substack Notes—I’m posting almost every day about my random reflections on life.

• Join me in Chat. It’s a space just for subscribers, kind of like a group text but less embarrassing. Download the app, tap the Chat icon (it looks like two speech bubbles at the bottom), and find the latest “Enlightened Omnivore” thread.

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I was sipping a cup of Turkish coffee on the quay in the seaside resort town of Bodrum. It was once known as the ancient city of Halicarnassus, home to the tomb of King Mausolus, one of the seven wonders of the world, and where we get the word mausoleum.

Little remained of the city’s former grandeur. Instead, Bodrum carried an eclectic energy found in so many photogenic Mediterranean ports. The weight of past civilizations now lay buried beneath vapid beach clubs and tacky souvenir shops. Bright neon cocktail signs hung from ancient stone foundations.

The streets were busy. Tracksuit-wearing Russian oligarchs chased girlfriends half their age. Cruise ship tourists drifted between overpriced cafes that had menus in every language but Turkish. Affectionate couples wandered the waterfront, chasing sunset selfies. Old Turkish men lounged half-asleep in plastic chairs, absentmindedly twirling their tesbih worry beads between cigarette-stained fingers.

My people-watching was suddenly interrupted by the delicious scent of roasting meat. A street vendor stoked his charcoal grill with a paper plate. Skewers of well-formed meatballs were pilled high as clouds of smoke wafted up into the warm Mediterranean air.

It was a childhood dream to visit this land. After decades of reading and studying this important global crossroads, the bridge between Europe and Asia, I was finally in Turkey. And I couldn’t wait to eat a meatball.

That’s right. Turkey, home to döner kebabs, dolmas, and impossibly strong coffee, pretty much sits near the center of the global meatball story.

A Food Nobody Invented

Few foods feel more universal than the meatball. Across cultures, languages, religions, and empires, humans everywhere seem to have arrived at the same delicious conclusion: if you grind meat, season it well, stretch it with a little starch or bread, and cook it, something magical takes place.

Nobody really invented the meatball. Or maybe everybody did. That’s because, long before refrigeration, grocery store meat aisles, and Instacart, you had to really work for your meat. Grinding (or chopping it finely) was less about culinary innovation, and more about survival. Ground meat turned tough cuts and scraps into tender morsels. Adding stale bread, old grains, herbs, and rendered fat allowed people to hide off flavors from older cuts, and feed more mouths with less.

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The earliest written references to meatballs appear in the 10th century. The Kitab al-Tabikh was a Persian cookbook written by an Iraqi, and influenced by Greek medicine. The meatball it referred to was called kofta, from the Persian, kufta, meaning “to pound” or “to grind.” Heavily seasoned with cumin, coriander, and cinnamon, the ground beef and lamb was then formed into balls the size of oranges and glazed in egg yolk and liquid saffron.

The recipe was so good that the meatball spread like empire itself.

Every Culture Added Its Own Fingerprints

As trade routes expanded and armies moved across continents, variations of kofta traveled through North Africa, the Middle East, the Balkans, Southern Europe, and South Asia. It had even more names, like Turkish köfte, Greek keftedes, Armenian kufta, Romanian chiftele, Albanian qofte, Bosnian ćufte.

Some versions were grilled over charcoal. Others simmered in tomato sauce or yogurt. Some mixed in rice or bulgur wheat rather than bread. Others leaned into the strong flavors of lamb, pine nuts, clarified butter, and sometimes curry.

Round. Flat. Cylindrical. Skewered. Fried. Steamed or braised, the meatball became less of a recipe and more of a format. And while nobody can truly claim ownership over the meatball itself, the Ottoman Empire (present-day Turkey) likely helped standardize and spread their version throughout much of the Mediterranean world.

IKEA Owes Turkey an Apology

Meatballs appear to have come to Europe late in the game. In Italy, polpette arrived some time in the late Middle Ages and included bread, cheese, herbs, and even fish, but no pasta. Moorish Spain adopted the meatball but called it by another Arabic-influenced name, the albóndigas. In Eastern Europe, meatballs became hearty peasant foods mixed with rice, onions, and buckwheat.

Food moves the same way people do; through conquest, trade, migration, exile, poverty, and curiosity. And sometimes through war. And that’s how the meatball made its way to Sweden in one of my favorite food history stories. Don’t worry. We haven’t left Turkey quite yet.

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The now-famous Swedish meatball — immortalized by IKEA cafeterias and frozen grocery store trays — may actually owe its existence to Turkey. In the early 1700s, Swedish King Charles XII fled to Ottoman territory after suffering a devastating defeat at the hands of the Russian tsar. He spent years living in exile in Istanbul, where he likely encountered Turkish köfte. When he begrudgingly left the warm and luxurious Turkish coast to return to Sweden, legend says he brought the recipe with him.

But not without making a few changes. Lamb was replaced with pork. Allspice and nutmeg replaced the Mediterranean spices while cream sauce replaced the chili paste. Local lingonberry jam topped the dish as a garnish. The Ottoman meatball was transformed into something unmistakably Scandinavian, and equally delicious.

A wandering recipe adapting itself to colder climates and different ingredients feels more interesting to me than culinary purity ever could. And it also reminds me of a conversation I had with my friend Cynthia Rebolledo on the podcast about the fleeting search for food authenticity.

“Food is ever evolving. It’s shared, it’s borrowed, it is always growing,” she reminded me when I asked her if Mexican food in Los Angeles was authentic.

The dishes we think of as ancient national treasures are often only decades old, and the result of centuries of borrowing, adaptation, reinvention, and accident disguised as tradition. Tomatoes arrived in Italy from the Americas. Chiles transformed Southeast Asia after European trade routes expanded. Pastrami, another of my favorite meats, likely evolved from Turkish pastirma before migrating to Romania, and eventually into Jewish delis in New York. Good luck trying to keep good food in a cultural box.

Spaghetti and Meatballs

Meatballs were late to the United States, only arriving at the end of the 19th century. This was thanks to Italian immigrants who found themselves in a country where meat was suddenly more abundant than it had been back home. Meatballs grew larger. Tomato sauce became heavier. And eventually somebody paired them with towering piles of spaghetti — a combination that would have looked somewhat foreign to Italians back in the home country at the time.

But that doesn’t mean that Italian-American cuisine was fake Italian food. It was immigrant adaptation. A survival ration becoming comfort cuisine.

Which brings me back to Istanbul.

When I finally arrived in Turkey’s largest city, I made sure to visit Sultanahmet, where the minarets of the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia rise high above the skyline. This is the meatball neighborhood. There are several cafes that prepare a flattened köfte grilled hard over charcoal until the edges crisp and blacken. The versions I fell in love with were made with lamb and seasoned with fenugreek, paprika, and cumin. Served on small plates alongside pickled yellow peppers, white bread, and a bright red chile sauce, they were the perfect late-day snack.

The locals agreed. The cafe was crammed with crowds of men smoking cigarettes and drinking thick Turkish coffee. Boisterously, they argued about soccer, politics, or maybe nothing important at all. Waiters brought more small plates of köfte. Nobody seemed to be in a hurry. I sat there and listened, and ate and smiled.

Why Meatballs Still Matter

When visiting Turkey, you can’t help but feel like you’re at a crossroads. And the food reminds you that sometimes the best dishes in the world emerge precisely because cultures collided. The meatball might be the best example of that process. Simple, portable, adaptable, and impossible to fully own. A food flexible enough to survive almost anywhere humans settled.

And maybe that’s why meatballs still feel so emotionally comforting when I make them at home. They carry the memory of resourcefulness. Of making enough from very little. Of gathering family around inexpensive ingredients that are transformed through labor and seasoning and love.

Even now, when I make meatballs at home, I still think about all those overlapping migrations hidden inside the bowl. Persian cooks pounding meat by hand. Ottoman grill smoke drifting through Istanbul. Swedish kings in exile. Italian immigrants arriving in New York. Neighborhood butcher shops still making them by hand.

And somewhere inside all of that history is a pot of meatballs simmering in tomato sauce while people chat around the table waiting to eat.

Which honestly feels like the best possible ending for a wandering recipe.

My butcher shop meatball recipe is listed at the bottom of today’s piece, available to all paid subscribers. In addition to these periodic recipes, paid subscribers get access to monthly Substack lives, practical workshops and PDF downloadable tools.

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The Seasonal Table: Summer

It’s that time again, on June 12th at 9am PT/Noon ET, I’m co-hosting the next installment of The Seasonal Table Series with Nicki Sizemore. Our Substack Live and cooking demonstration explores the four seasonal turning points of the year (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter).

For our summer conversation, Nicki and I will share what the season means to us — in nature, in the body, in the kitchen, and we’ll be making two of our favorite summer sides. Hope you can join!

Register Here

The Enlightened Freezer Workshop

Most people use their freezer like a graveyard for leftovers and mystery meat. But chefs, butchers, and thoughtful home cooks know something different: your freezer might be the most important tool in your kitchen.

Join me for a practical workshop on Saturday, June 13th, @9am PT / Noon ET to learn everything about freezing foods: how to organize things, preserve seasonal items, and make everyday cooking dramatically easier and cheaper. Paid subscribers can register at the link below.

Register Here

Stay Connected

• Follow along on YouTube, Instagram and TikTok for video content, reels, and behind-the-scenes thoughts. I’m also on Facebook and LinkedIn.

• Say hi on Substack Notes—I’m posting almost every day about my random reflections on life.

• Join me in Chat. It’s a space just for subscribers, kind of like a group text but less embarrassing. Download the app, tap the Chat icon (it looks like two speech bubbles at the bottom), and find the latest “Enlightened Omnivore” thread.

Leave a comment

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ECB Italian Meatballs

These were a quiet sleeper hit behind the butcher counter at Electric City Butcher. Built on a classic 70/30 blend of beef and pork, they lean into richness with ricotta, parmesan, garlic confit, and plenty of seasoning. They’re soft in the best possible way—perfect simmered in tomato sauce, tucked into a sandwich, or served simply with olive oil and crusty bread.

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Sitting in a dark room with several rows of empty chairs, there was a man in front of a pull-down screen. We were on the first floor of UCLA’s Rothman Institute of Food Policy. I had hoped to see my former podcast guest Jack Bobo, but the room held only a pair of grad students and a handful of faculty. A student host sat at a folding table littered with…

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In a world that always seems focused on optimizing for convenience, distraction, and outsourcing, cooking asks something different of me. Attention. Patience. Adaptability. Presence. It reconnects me to the power of transformation itself: raw ingredients becoming nourishment, strangers becoming family, houses becoming homes.

Looking back, I realize this essay wasn’t really about recipes or meal prep. It was also a little about reclaiming my agency. Anyone else want to reclaim some power they deserve these days?

Rereading this reminded me how much Substack has changed in the last year. There is SOOOO much more content these days. So, I wanted to shine some light on a few of my favorite food authors. If you need some good ideas for your cooking, check out the links peppered through this piece. They’re all great sources of inspiration for sure.

Next month, I’ll be sharing a new workshop for all paid subscribers called The Enlightened Freezer—a practical guide to using your freezer not as a graveyard for leftovers, but as a tool for resilience, economy, seasonal eating, and everyday sanity.

Anyway, here’s the original piece revisited and revised—with some new links to other great food writers, and a few fresh thoughts simmering inside. I hope you enjoy it just as much the second time.

The Enlightened Kitchen

When my friend Dr. Matthea Rentea asked me to be on her podcast, The Obesity Guide, to talk about my philosophy on cooking, I was a bit nervous. A big believer in everything in moderation, I don’t know that my cooking has ever been conducive to grandiose mantras or a rigorous workout plan. But Dr. Rentea—who has been working with people struggling with obesity for more than a decade—made it clear, addressing unhealthy eating habits doesn’t start with weight loss, it starts with a healthier outlook on eating. She wanted my thoughts on how adults can start cooking for the first time, or return to it after a long hiatus.

Sure, I can do that. So here are some thoughts on how reconnecting with cooking doesn’t have to be stressful. In fact, it might even save you some money, while helping you live a healthier, dare I say, enlightened life.

The Three Biggest Cooking Mistakes

If your kitchen feels like a foreign country, or it’s had about as much use as that ambitious gym membership, I wanted to share some super simple tips that I've noticed are the most common errors standing between the home cook and delicious dining:

1. Not Enough Browning: Proper browning–what’s called the Maillard reaction–creates depth of flavor that transforms ordinary ingredients and packs their bags for “flavor country.” Don't rush this process! Allow proteins and vegetables to develop a proper sear before moving or flipping them. Potatoes come alive with a nice crust, grains with a little color offer a comforting toasted vibe, and pine nuts browned in a pan for a minute make an ordinary salad taste like fine dining.

2. Under-seasoning: Don’t skimp on salt. The FDA found that 70% of our salt consumption comes from processed foods, not the salt we add to recipes or place on the table. Chances are, if you don’t like how your homemade foods taste, you’re probably not salting them enough. Also, buy some flake kosher salt, which absorbs faster and provides better flavor distribution than table salt, and season throughout the cooking process. Don’t forget to taste the food before serving it.

3. Leaving out ingredients: Cooking is chemistry, and leaving out an ingredient might prevent an essential reaction. Salt is a flavor enhancer. Adding it to chocolate chip cookies actually makes them taste sweeter and more chocolatey. Acids like lemon juice or vinegar brighten up flat flavors. A splash of olive oil gives body to sauces and stews. Chances are, ingredients are in that recipe for a reason. If in doubt, make it both ways and choose your favorite.

What are your war stories in the kitchen? What are some of your favorite rules in the kitchen?

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The Basic Tool Kit

We could spend an entire post on what gear you should have in your kitchen. But my philosophy on cooking tools leans heavily on the wise words of Alton Brown: no unitaskers. Every tool in your kitchen should have more than one function. I am a devout believer in this rule except for this guy. Not a single day goes by in my avocado-holic household that someone isn’t using this tool, or looking for it in the dishwasher.

That said, here’s a starting list to help make your cooking a success (I really should make an affiliates link, but I don’t receive any endorsements for the recommendations below):

• Chef’s Knife: They don’t have to be expensive. I like this one.

• Paring Knife: Saves you from cutting yourself with that quality chef's knife when working on smaller morsels.

• Cutting board: I prefer wood. They’re easier on knives and we don’t need any more plastic in our lives that we already have.

• Measuring cups: Both wet and dry.

• Sauce pan and frying pan: Stainless steel is a great start; we can talk about my cast iron fetish later.

• Baking sheet: Splurge on a couple sturdy ones that won’t buckle under heat in the oven.

• Cooling rack: one of these has too many uses to list; in addition to cooling baked goods, it’s perfect for roasting and crisping foods, glazing or decorating, draining, drying, or thawing.

• Strainer/colander: For draining pasta, washing produce, and steaming.

• Storage containers: again glass is my preference; don’t like putting hot things into plastic, and glass freezes better.

• Thermometer: This will ensure you never overcook a piece of meat again; start with this bargain version, and then upgrade when you can afford it.

• Tongs: This might be a personal preference, but I can’t live without mine. Great for flipping, grabbing, and serving.

• Scale: For those European recipes that rely on weight (grams and ounces) versus the more American volume (cups and tablespoons), a scale is essential. A cheap and easy to clean scale is a real benefit if you want consistent cooking. might have an opinion on a better one.

What did I miss? Leave me a comment with your personal favorites!

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What Should I Cook? Menu Items

Let’s assume you’ve been away from the kitchen for a while. Or maybe this is your first time. Rather than committing to complicated recipes every night, consider mastering a framework for basic and balanced meals. Also, if you don’t have a cookbook, get The Joy of Cooking. In addition to having hundreds of recipes, it’s also part encyclopedia part Cooking for Dummies, which will help any beginner find their way in the kitchen.

• Start with protein: Structure meals around satisfying protein sources. Contrary to popular belief, grass-finished beef can be as lean as chicken while providing more iron and flavor. For the vegetarian, beans, tofu, and lentils should be prime on the plate.

• Embrace fiber-rich foods: I fill half my plate with non-starchy vegetables and incorporate whole grains like wild rice, bulgur, and quinoa. These foods provide sustained energy and promote digestive health without the need for calorie counting. I also don’t fall asleep after my meal.

• Doctor up pre-made items: If you don't have the time, outsource some of the work. In a pinch, I buy pre-made marinara sauce that is zero-sugar and then doctor it up with protein, herbs, and spices at home. Saves time while staying away from heavily processed, salty and sweet store-bought items.

• Use frozen veggies: If you can't go to the store regularly, keep broccoli, green beans, and riced cauliflower (great carb substitute) in your freezer for a quick addition to your meal. Frozen broccoli under the broiler for 12 minutes browns faster than fresh, green beans sautéed for a few minutes in a very hot pan are still bright and snappy. Riced cauliflower browned with some butter is better than basmati. Key is hot pan and a short cook time.

• Try heritage grains: If you missed my piece on farro, check it out. Ancient grains—like bulgur, quinoa, and wild rice—are great substitutes for pasta or white rice. They also come with lots more fiber and nutrients.

If you have questions on any of these basics, simply comment or send me a message and I’ll be happy to share more detail. Or, if you’re ready to replicate our favorite restaurant dish, check out at The Secret Ingredient.

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The Butcher's Corner

For the meat eaters of the world, there are lots of exciting kitchen experiments you can try. Here are just a couple to get you started:

• Buy large format proteins and cut them down: A prime rib roast is often cheaper than individual ribeye steaks. Bulk ground beef also comes at a discount, and can be portioned at home to go into the freezer. Practice basic butchery to save cash.

• Don't throw out bones: Save up your chicken and steak bones, and put them in the freezer. On the weekend, throw them all in a pot (or pressure cooker) and make some broth. It will come in handy for future recipes. If you don’t know what broth is, or how to use it, my friend Heather has you covered.

• Quality over quantity: Good meat is more filling than bad. Splurge on the quality and stay away from factory farmed stuff that is often higher in calories, full of other bad things, and bad for farmers and the environment.

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Practical Meal Planning for Real Life

The all-or-nothing approach to meal planning often leads to frustration and aborted efforts. Instead, try these more sustainable strategies that will keep you coming back to the kitchen for more of your meals:

• Culinary Boot Camp: Pick five basic recipes–maybe ones that use a single pot or baking sheet, and require minimal prep and cleanup. Take a weekend to practice making them. It should take about an hour for each recipe. After a long afternoon, you’ll have leftovers for a week. When you’ve mastered those recipes, you’ll be able to make them fresh when you want in half the time. Experiment with new recipes on weekends.

• Practice Makes Perfect: Once you have your skills up, plan 3-4 days of meals at a time rather than an entire week, which can feel overwhelming. Choose recipes with overlapping ingredients to reduce waste and decision fatigue.

• Make extra and FREEZE: If you're making a labor-intensive dish, double the portions. So many recipes taste better the next day, and tons freeze easily. Start with the “low and slow” cooked foods, like pot roast, chili, and soups. These can last months–if not years–in the freezer for those nights you’d rather reheat than cook from scratch.

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My Kitchen Philosophy

My relationship with food has ping-ponged between enjoyment and anxiety over the years. I wasn’t always trying to be a mindful eater. In fact, as a teenager, I prided myself on how many $0.49 McDonald’s cheeseburgers I could eat. The number was thirteen! Does anyone else remember that price? My friend and food historian often writes about how deeply Americana foods shape modern taste and memory, and honestly, he’s right. Those cheeseburgers are burned into my brain.

Today, eating looks quite different for me and my family. You might have heard me chattering away about it on my podcast. I guess I’ve developed a bit of a philosophy on food that starts with three core principles:

Regenerative: Food that rebuilds our capacity to make more food is the most intuitive and sustainable model we can embrace. I choose ingredients that support farming systems that give back to the land rather than deplete it. Check out my friend and on this topic, particularly where women are leading the charge.

Resilient: Just like nature's most successful species, our superpower as omnivores lies in maintaining a diverse diet that doesn't over-rely on any single calorie source. This diversity makes us adaptable and strong. If you want lots of ideas on ingredients, check out and his Things on Bread.

Restorative: The most important ingredient in any meal is love. Food must nourish not just our bodies, but our minds, spirits, and connections with each other. If food loses that sense of adventure, it probably doesn’t deserve to go into your body. ’s Let’s Get Lost reminds me that feeding people can be both practical and deeply personal — that recipes are often just another way of telling stories about hospitality, curiosity, and connection.

This approach runs counter to much of today's diet culture, which often prioritizes restriction or over-consumption of a handful of things. Somewhere along the way, we forgot about nourishment and fellowship, the only two ingredients that matter to me. But for readers trying to better understand how ingredients affect other things, like blood sugar, mood, and long-term health, offers a helpful and practical perspective.

Let’s Be Mindful

Truly mindful eating starts in the kitchen, but it really comes to fruition around the dinner table. For my household, dinner is the only time I see my teenage kids most days. It’s not just where we share a meal, but where feelings and newly formed ideas can percolate; whether it’s Star Wars lore, the history of hot dogs, or what presidents ate for breakfast — topics I probably wouldn’t know nearly as much about without .

If you can, try and eat with others. It’s a hoot.

To truly nourish me, food must affect my mind, body, heart and spirit. That’s when it becomes medicine rather than mere calories. With this mindset, I can then create a more fulfilling relationship with the food I eat, the system in which it was raised, and the people with whom I share it. That's at the heart of being an Enlightened Omnivore, and the name of ’s .

And remember, we all make mistakes in the kitchen. Be kind to yourself when things don’t go your way. That’s part of the learning process. Not every meal will turn out perfectly. Mine don’t! Whether you're cooking for one, or feeding a busy family, the key is finding an approach that works for your life and makes home-cooked eating more accessible in your daily routine.

That's how we get back into the kitchen. One meal at a time.

The Seasonal Table: Summer

It’s that time again, on June 11th at 9am PT/Noon ET, I’m co-hosting with Nicki Sizemore the next in our The Seasonal Table Series — a quarterly Substack Live marking the four seasonal turning points of the year (Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter).

For our summer conversation, Nicki and I will share what the season means to us — in nature, in the body, in the kitchen, and around the family table. Hope you can join!

Register Here

The Enlightened Freezer Workshop

Most people use their freezer like a graveyard for leftovers and mystery meat. But chefs, butchers, and thoughtful home cooks know something different: your freezer might be the most important tool in your kitchen.

Join me for a practical workshop on Saturday, June 13th, @9am PT / Noon ET to learn everything about freezing foods: how to organize things, preserve seasonal items, and make everyday cooking dramatically easier and cheaper. Paid subscribers can register at the link below.

Register Here

Stay Connected

• Follow along on YouTube, Instagram and TikTok for video content, reels, and behind-the-scenes thoughts. I’m also on Facebook and LinkedIn.

• Say hi on Substack Notes—I’m posting almost every day about my random reflections on life.

• Join me in Chat. It’s a space just for subscribers, kind of like a group text but less embarrassing. Download the app, tap the Chat icon (it looks like two speech bubbles at the bottom), and find the latest “Enlightened Omnivore” thread.

Leave a comment

Get more from Steve Sabicer in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

Bennett has built one of the most fascinating food history projects online — recreating the meals of presidents, politicians, and everyday Americans to explore what food says about culture, class, power, and identity. Somewhere between hot dogs for the Queen of England, and frozen cottage cheese suspended in Jell-O, we uncovered a surprising amount about American food.

We also opened our fridges live for the internet, which may or may not have been a mistake.

If you missed the conversation, listen to the replay. It’s a fun one. Come for the hot dog history, stay for the Siberian pine cone jam and morning presidential cocktails.

And definitely go follow Bennett’s work at Cooking with Congress — especially if you love food history, strange recipes, or the beautifully weird ways Americans have eaten over the years.

WORKSHOP: The Enlightened Freezer

Most people use their freezer like a graveyard for leftovers and mystery meat. But chefs, butchers, and thoughtful home cooks know something different: your freezer might be the most important tool in your kitchen.

Join me for a practical workshop on Saturday June 13th, @9am PT / Noon ET to learn everything about freezing foods: how to organize things, preserve seasonal items, and make everyday cooking dramatically easier and cheaper. Paid subscribers can register at the link below.

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• Follow along on YouTube, Instagram and TikTok for video content, reels, and behind-the-scenes thoughts. I’m also on Facebook and LinkedIn.

• Say hi on Substack Notes—I’m posting almost every day about my random reflections on life.

• Join me in Chat. It’s a space just for subscribers, kind of like a group text but less embarrassing. Download the app, tap the Chat icon (it looks like two speech bubbles at the bottom), and find the latest “Enlightened Omnivore” thread.

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Most people use their freezer like a graveyard for leftovers and mystery meat. But chefs, butchers, gardeners, and thoughtful home cooks know something different: your freezer might be the most important tool in your kitchen.

Used well, a freezer can save money, reduce waste, preserve seasonal ingredients, help you buy in bulk intelligently, and make everyday cooking dramatically easier.

The truth is, freezing food has gotten a bad reputation. We’ve been taught that “fresh” is always superior, while frozen food feels like compromise. But after years working as a butcher, cook, and obsessive food person, I’ve learned the opposite.

Your freezer isn’t a compromise. It’s a strategy.

All workshops are free to paid subscribers. Upgrade your subscription to access all EO workshops.

What You’ll Learn

A practical, real-world guide to using your freezer intentionally, including:

• How to organize your freezer so food actually gets used

• The best way to freeze meat, broth, produce, bread, herbs, and leftovers

• What freezes beautifully—and what absolutely doesn’t

• My favorite freezer tools, containers, labels, and systems

• Easy strategies to save money, reduce food waste, and future-proof meals

Workshop Details

Date: June 13, 2026
Time: 9:00am PT / 12:00pm ET
Format: Live Zoom workshop (with replay available for paid participants)

When You Subscribe, You’ll Get

• Access to the live workshop

• Full replay after the session

• Future workshop invites and resources

• Ongoing EO essays, recipes, and conversations

• Practical kitchen guidance rooted in real-world cooking

I’m excited for this one. The freezer is one of the most overlooked tools in modern cooking, and once you start using it intentionally, it changes the rhythm of your kitchen completely.

Workshop Recording

Thank you for your paid subscription. Here is a recording of the complete workshop:

Read more

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We love our food fads.

Protein is the new cure-all. Social …

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If you’ve spent any time in the grocery store, you’re aware of how expensive meat has become. All animal proteins increased in price during COVID when the entire meat industrial complex came to a screeching halt. But shouldn’t prices have come down by now. Instead, pork and chicken remain high, while…

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There’s something magical that happens when you start participating in your food system.

You begin to ask simple questions:

• Where did this come from?

• What did it take to produce it?

• Could I do this myself?

For me, chickens were that first real step out of the abstract food system—and into something tangible. A few birds in the backyard. Eggs in the morning. A direct relationship with what you eat. But like anything that sounds simple, there’s a learning curve.

And a lot of noise.

Why This Workshop Exists

Backyard chickens sit at the intersection of sustainability, food security, and everyday ritual. I’ve raised chickens for more than 10 years and also spent years working alongside farmers and producers who understand animal care at a deeper level.

What I’ve learned is this: You don’t need a homestead. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to know where to start—and what actually matters.

This workshop is designed to give you that foundation.

What You’ll Learn

A practical, real-world guide to raising chickens at home:

• How to get started (without overcomplicating it)

• Choosing the right breeds for your space and goals

• Coop basics, space, and setup

• Feed, care, and keeping birds healthy

• What to expect—eggs, seasons, and reality vs. expectation

• Common mistakes (and how to avoid them)

Workshop Details

Date: April 11
Time: 9:00am PT / 12:00pm ET
Format: Live Zoom workshop (with replay available for paid participants)

Register Below

This workshop is available to paid subscribers of Enlightened Omnivore.

Subscribe now

When you subscribe, you’ll get:

• Access to the live workshop

• Full replay after the session

• Future workshop invites and resources

• Ongoing EO content, recipes, and conversations

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There’s a moment that happens at the grocery store. You’re standing there, looking at labels—grass-fed, pasture-raised, organic, natural, no hormones, air-chilled—and you’re scratching your head wondering what it all means. Are these claims honest and worth the extra price?

What actually matters here?

The truth is, buying better meat isn’t just about ethics or nutrition or price. It’s about understanding a system that has become increasingly opaque and intentionally confusing.

Why This Workshop Exists

I spent years on the other side of the counter as a butcher, and I’ve worked directly with some of the best farmers, ranchers, distributors, retailers of the highest quality and more responsibly raised animal proteins around. I’m excited to share some of what I’ve learned in this one hour zoom call.

What You’ll Learn

A practical, real-world guide to navigating meat in today’s food system:

• What labels actually mean (and what they don’t)

• How to buy better meat on any budget

• What to ask your meat counter/butcher/online vendor

• Simple “at-home” butchery that will help stretch your dollars without losing quality

Workshop Details

Date: May 9
Time: 9:00am PT / 12:00pm ET
Format: Live Zoom workshop (with replay available for paid participants)

When you subscribe, you’ll get:

• Access to the live workshop

• Full replay after the session

• Future workshop invites and resources

• Ongoing EO content, recipes, and conversations

Workshop Recording

Thank you for your paid subscription. Here is a recording of the complete workshop:

Read more

In my house, we eat a shocking amount of broccoli. I put it on the table two, sometimes three times a week. Most nights, it’s the frozen organic kind from Trader Joe’s, steamed with a drizzle of olive oil, and a sprinkle of garlic powder. I also recently learned that baking them frozen (right out of the freezer; no oil) ensures the best browning while maintaining a vibrant green and al dente bite. This new kitchen hack means I’m seldom buying fresh broccoli, and instead opt for the massive organic bag in the freezer section at Costco.

Despite hundreds of servings of broccoli over the years, I never realized how many people have strong feelings about this vegetable. Some love it. Others can’t stand the stuff. Many lean in and meet it halfway.

But I never knew its complicated backstory. So, surprise, surprise, one evening while washing the dishes, my son shared what he’d learned on YouTube. The shocking truths about this brassica vegetable were so hard to believe, I had to fact check them, and then write this piece.

A Vegetable That Didn’t Exist (Until We Made It)

Despite all its amazing applications and superfood-laden benefits, broccoli isn’t exactly “natural.” No, it’s not one of those GMO frankenfoods that Peter Giuliano and I discussed on last week’s LIVE. But don’t expect to find any wild broccoli on your next foraging foray either. That’s because these florets are the result of very intentional breeding from the wild mustard plant Brassica oleracea that dates back to ancient Roman times. Broccoli looks nothing like its wild mustard ancestor, until you let it bolt, when those green florets (hundreds of tightly closed flowers) open into tiny yellow blooms. I can only imagine how many centuries it must have taken to get this veggie to look anything like its current state. Those Romans were patient gardeners.

And for those of you who noticed that kale, cabbage, Brussels sprouts and cauliflower all smell similar. You’d be right. They’re related. Each of these cruciferous veggies is a different mutation from that same mustard plant. Leaves, stems, buds, color, all the result of toga-wearing Italians simply picking and choosing different characteristics season after season.

Superfood

The Roman thinker Pliny the Elder knew that broccoli was good for digestion, strength, and endurance. Italians continued to cultivate the food for its medicinal and culinary benefits. Thomas Jefferson was so impressed with broccoli that he imported seeds from Italy and planted them at Monticello. This was likely the first time Americans got a look at the little green plants. But broccoli was still mistrusted by most Americans until Italian immigrants began cultivating it commercially in the early 20th Century. And even then, most Americans were more likely to choose rutabagas over broccoli at the dinner table.

Today, broccoli is well established as a superfood. Its nutritional value is off the charts. One cup of broccoli will give you more than 91% of your daily vitamin C, and 75% of your daily vitamin K (essential for bone and vascular health).

Its benefits are well established scientifically too. I learned in Zoë Schlanger’s The Light Eaters that broccoli has a high concentration of sulforaphane, a chemical compound found to have anti-cancer, anti-inflammatory and detoxification benefits. Used by the plant as a natural defense against insects and environmental stress, sulforaphane may reduce risk of lung cancer in people with a genetic predisposition for the disease.

In addition to these health benefits, broccoli may even have performance enhancement properties. Some elite athletes believe that broccoli juice can help reduce lactic acid buildup and oxidative stress after intense workouts.

Why Do Haters Gotta Hate?

It turns out that the very same thing that makes broccoli so good at fighting cancer, sulforaphane, also makes the vegetable taste bitter. And although some people enjoy the bitter flavor, others can’t stand it. In fact, studies show that some people might have unique saliva that makes broccoli taste up to 20 times more bitter than average. Enzymes and bacteria in the saliva can produce sulfur-based aromas that make broccoli more reminiscent of decay rather than delicious superfood. This phenomenon is even more common in young children, which explains a lot about how some kids react to broccoli on the plate.

America’s distaste for broccoli got so bad, it went political. In 1990, President George H. W. Bush was quoted as saying:

I do not like broccoli. And I haven’t liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And I’m President of the United States, and I’m not going to eat any more broccoli!”

He didn’t stop there. He banned it from Air Force One and most White House dinners. In response, California’s Broccoli Industry shipped 10 tons to the White House in protest. Bush then donated it to area food banks. I couldn’t find any reporting on if any of the food banks actually accepted the veggies. But this certainly has to be one of the strangest food-policy moments in American history.

The Broccoli Boom

Despite the presidential ban, broccoli continued to win the hearts and minds at America’s dinner tables. Consumption in the US has doubled since the 1990s, and today, broccoli is among the most popular vegetables. And when you exclude processed uses for other vegetables like potatoes, onions, and carrots, broccoli might be the most consumed unprocessed veggie on American plates.

Most of this broccoli comes from California—especially the Salinas Valley, where it is grown year-round. But it’s refreshing to realize that there are few sustainability concerns with its cultivation. Broccoli is remarkably unremarkable in its water consumption and fertilizer needs. The very compound that makes it less palatable to some Americans, also deters most insects from eating it, reducing the need for petro-chemical heavy pesticides. Since it’s picked before it flowers, pollination isn’t a concern. And because it grows easily in most climates, especially during the shoulder seasons (spring and fall) it’s a perfect candidate for more localized agricultural systems.

The Most American of Vegetables

It’s remarkable how “American” broccoli has become. It was shaped in the image of the Romans like our very own Republic, admired openly by one of our founding fathers, and then made popular by immigrants. It even sparked a little political theater along the way. And yet, for all that controversy, it still holds a kind of rural, folksy wholesomeness in our hearts.

There isn’t much controversy about broccoli in my house. Except maybe some prefer steamed over roasted, and that the big Costco bag adds more plastic. Once on the plate, it’s greeted with smiles all around the table.

But after researching this piece, I don’t think I’ll look at those little edible green trees in quite the same way. A plant that didn’t exist until we made it. A flower we never let bloom. A vegetable that had to earn its place in the American kitchen even after a brief government ban. Despite all that, it became more palatable. Not because it got sweeter, but because we learned to appreciate its benefits despite its bitterness.

For you paid subscribers, don’t forget that there is a delicious broccoli salad recipe at the bottom of this article.

May Workshop: Buying Better Meat

I’m now hosting monthly workshops via Zoom for all paid subscribers. Earlier this month, I talked about how to raise backyard chickens. Next month’s Workshop is coming up on May 9th at 9am PT / Noon ET and will be all about deciphering meat labels, how to find responsibly raised proteins, and where I buy mine. Paid subscribers will get an email with the link to the Zoom the week before the workshop. If you can’t find your RSVP, just message me on the app.

May Substack Live: Bennett Rea, Cookin’ with Congress

I’m also excited that on May 17th at 9am PT / Noon ET, I’ll be chatting with my friend and weird food historian, of Cookin’ With Congress. If you haven’t seen his stuff on TikTok, NPR, or CBS This Morning, where have you been? Just in time for Memorial Day, we’ll be talking about all things hot dogs, finding the weirdest stuff in our own fridges, and figuring out why he’s so infatuated with jello and Congressional Districts.

Add to Your Calendar

RECIPE: Broccoli & Lentil Salad with Curried Tahini and Dates

This recipe is inspired by a dish from Yasmin Khan’s Sabzi, a fantastic Persian vegetarian cookbook. I keep returning to this book, not just for the flavors, but for the creative ways it treats vegetables as the center of the plate.

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We covered a lot in an hour:

• GMOs: where the real debate actually sits (hint: it’s not just science)

• How to source better coffee without overthinking it

• What to actually look for when buying beef (even at places like Costco)

• And what we’re cooking this spring (cactus + a whole lot of eggs)

We didn’t agree on everything—and that’s what made it worth watching.

If you’ve ever felt stuck between “industrial food system” and “do I need to grow everything myself?”… this is a good one.

May Workshop: Buying Better Meat

I just scratched the surface today on one of my favorite topics, buying better meat. All paid subscribers are invited to join me on May 9th at 9am PT / Noon ET; Buying Better Meat: What to Look For and Where to Find It. All paid subscribers will get the link via email a couple of days before the talk. And if you miss it, I share the recording afterwards.

Subscribe now

Stay Connected

• Follow along on YouTube, Instagram and TikTok for video content, reels, and behind-the-scenes thoughts. I’m also on Facebook and LinkedIn.

• Say hi on Substack Notes—I’m posting almost every day about my random reflections on life.

• Join me in Chat. It’s a space just for subscribers, kind of like a group text but less embarrassing. Download the app, tap the Chat icon (it looks like two speech bubbles at the bottom), and find the latest “Enlightened Omnivore” thread.

Leave a comment

Share

Get more from Steve Sabicer in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

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If you’re a new subscriber, welcome to Enlightened Omnivore! I write about what’s on our plates, where it comes from, and why that matters. Each week, I share a free essay, with deeper dives, live workshops, and practical guides for paid subscribers.

“MEAT IS MURDER”

“FRIENDS, NOT FOOD”

SPREAD HUMMUS, NOT HATE” That last one made me chuckle.

Half a dozen young people were standing out in front of the shop with bull horns, signs, and rattles. One was in a cow costume. They were all claiming our butcher shop was a death camp.

“ANIMALS ARE NOT INGREDIENTS,” a woman screamed through the front window, blood vessels bulging, a bit of white spittle dangling from her top lip.

A few months before, a friend’s shop in Northern California had been targeted. They made so much noise it was distracting to even work. Sometimes they’d lie in front of the store blocking customers. This went on for months, over a dozen protests. Finally, my friend negotiated a compromise. No more protests if they hung a sign in the window:

“ATTENTION: Animals’ lives are their right. Killing them is violent and unjust, no matter how it’s done.”

I tried to keep focused on the bin of chicken I was deboning as passersby stared and sympathetic supporters gave us a thumbs up from outside. I nicked my finger. Annoyed, I bandaged my pointer wondering why the vegans were spending so much time picking on a small business trying to do the right thing when there was a McDonald’s a couple of blocks away.

But there was no convincing them. Even a water bottle peace offering was welcomed with the comment, “of course you’d give us a bottle to choke our oceans with more plastic. MEAT IS MURDER!!!!”

It probably doesn’t surprise you that vegetarianism never appealed to me. And yes, I’ve been outspoken about how I find veganism a distraction from the larger environmental debate. That said, I do admire folks who are disciplined enough to eat animal-free whole foods in creative and delicious ways. A date once pointed out that I’d eaten an entirely vegan meal at the Ethiopian restaurant Meskerem. I didn’t feel like I was giving anything up. They weren’t marketing it as vegan back then, just everyday life.

Pandas and Grizzlies

So before I go any further, and hopefully before a deluge of hate mail from amped up environmentalists, in the words of Jerry Seinfeld, some of my closest friends are vegan. And I’ve learned a lot from them over the years. And for most of them, it’s been a two-way street. They listen to what I have to say. We can find common ground because although I would consider all of us biologically omnivores, like a lot of things these days, it’s a bit of a spectrum.

Omnivores are surprisingly rare in the natural world, making up only a small fraction of animal species — some estimates are around 5%. Yet, omnivores tend to be among the most successful animals. Unlike specialists that rely on a narrow food source, omnivores are generalists, able to shift between plants, animals, and whatever else is seasonally or locally available. This flexibility allows omnivores to survive especially well when environments are stressed or changing. Omnivores are the explorers and the survivors, often among the first to arrive and the last to leave. They’re able to get by on whatever the landscape offers, especially during periods of disruption and climate change—and that’s the part we rarely talk about.

So that’s why I like to say when it comes to choosing how we humans eat, there are a couple of camps: pandas and grizzlies.

Both animals belong to the bear family, Ursidae. They share common ancestors, similar skeletons, and an almost identical digestive system. Yet the panda bear eats 99% of its calories from bamboo, sometimes spending 16 hours a day munching away on the long green leaves in order to sustain a 200-300 pound frame.

Grizzly bears on the other hand, are proficient meat eaters, getting much of their calories from salmon, small mammals, scavenged carcasses, and insects. That said, they can still gorge themselves on blueberries and bark when in arm’s reach.

Humans are biologically omnivores, but just like our bear brothers, we get to choose what we put into our bodies. And often, if we listen close enough, our bodies tell us exactly what they need. If our bodies can talk, I think so can the Earth. What if she’s telling us what foods are best for the occasion?

And so if there are pandas and grizzlies among us humans, then the vegetarians in my life may very well be hearing what I don’t, helping out by eating the resources that are a little more abundant, or a little less stressing to the ecosystem. It’s often my smaller buddies who take up the cross. Not sure if that’s causation or correlation.

Who’s to say that pandas aren’t the most enlightened omnivores of all.

Meat or Not to Meat

The argument about “meat or not to meat” has become so loud, so moralized, that we’ve stopped asking a more useful question:

Not “should we eat animals?”
But “how do we participate in a food system that actually works?

The protestors outside my shop weren’t wrong about the suffering. They weren’t wrong that industrial agriculture, especially industrial animal agriculture, can be brutal, extractive, and hidden from view.

But they were attacking potential allies trying to solve for the same problem. They were punishing us for our attempt at transparency, ignoring the nuance, the shades of grey that exist. And shouting at the honest truth as if it might go away.

But Nature doesn’t work that way.

A grizzly bear pulling a salmon from a river is not committing a moral failure.
A panda stripping a bamboo forest of its leaves is not morally superior.

They are simply participating in a system—one that includes life, death, regeneration, and trade-offs.

And so are we.

The Omnivore’s Burden

What makes humans different isn’t that we eat meat or don’t. It’s that we can choose. And that choice is both a gift and a burden.

We can choose to eat industrially raised meat three times a day without thinking about where it comes from. We can choose to eat a vegan diet built on ultra-processed and energy-intensive foods shipped across the globe. We can also choose to source carefully, eat more plants, waste less, and pay more attention to how it’s made.

Every one of those choices has consequences—for animals, for land, for climate, for communities.

And that’s the part that often gets left off the protest sign.

The protestors finally left us alone. I don’t know if they got bored, or maybe felt sorry for us. Or if they simply found another shop with a street corner in the shade. But sometimes, when I think back on things, I imagine the question I would have asked if I had the chance:

I get what you’re trying to tear down. But what do you want to build?

Because I’d listen to those answers. Change rather than challenge. Solutions over slogans.

The system doesn’t change when we argue about it. It changes when we step inside. And that butcher block feels like harder ground than the sidewalk.

!!This Sunday!! Substack Live

My next LIVE will be on April 19 with my good friend, coffee expert, and Substack writer, of We’ll be arguing about GMOs, how to source the best coffee (and meat), and what we’re both cooking up this spring!

Add to Your Calendar

May Workshop: Buying Better Meat

I’m hosting monthly workshops via Zoom for all paid subscribers. The April workshop was on Backyard Chickens (the recording is available to all paid subscribers at the bottom of this post). Next month’s workshop will be on how to buy better meat. Coming up on May 9th at 9am PT / Noon ET; Buying Better Meat: What to Look For and Where to Find It.

Paid subscribers can register below the paywall, and if you’re a free subscriber and interested in joining, consider upgrading today.

Subscribe now

Stay Connected

• Follow along on YouTube, Instagram and TikTok for video content, reels, and behind-the-scenes thoughts. I’m also on Facebook and LinkedIn.

• Say hi on Substack Notes—I’m posting almost every day about my random reflections on life.

• Join me in Chat. It’s a space just for subscribers, kind of like a group text but less embarrassing. Download the app, tap the Chat icon (it looks like two speech bubbles at the bottom), and find the latest “Enlightened Omnivore” thread.

Leave a comment

Share

Get more from Steve Sabicer in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

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In light of the 20th anniversary of the publishing of The Omnivore’s Dilemma, I wanted to reflect on how deeply this book shaped the course of my life over the past two decades.

Also, if you’re a paid subscriber, today is the first Enlightened Omnivore Workshop: Backyard Chickens. It starts at 9am PT via Zoom. If you’re looking for the link, paid subscri…

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