I have written endlessly about the liminal spaces in my life when the ambiguity between where I have been and where I am going can often feel crippling. I have also tapped into the idea that most of my best recipes are born from these same spaces, those places I lay seemingly stagnant in the discomfort of some of life’s hardest transitions. Transitions that oddly and often seem to correspond with the fall season. My latest herbal salt collection- My Limbal Space Collection– crafted in the midst of preparations for my winter relocation {back} to Brooklyn, dives deep into this liminal space du jour and serves as a metaphor for taking notice, exploring my relationship to liminality and its power in restoring my connection back to my authentic self, which I think, gets disconnected by the liminal in order to become stronger. Eventually, as I move closer to the threshold, I am brought back to a place of maximum creativity, crossing boundaries and borders, fulfilling the purpose I believe I was put on this earth to pursue. My recipes, the herb salts, the ideas, the writing – all of it is the result of me making sense of my liminal spaces.

It doesn’t escape me that most of my major transitions happen during at the same time the “sugar rush” from my adrenaline-rich agricultural work (selling fresh Mexican organic mangoes) comes to an abrupt end.  The mango work keeps me intensely focused and goal-oriented for many months. When the season ends, my daily routine undergoes a dramatic transformation as I transition from a laser-focused, regimented lifestyle to a more open and contemplative one. This transitional phase, happening always in fall, is particularly challenging for me and yet each year I think I understand it (and me) a little bit better as I pass through it.

Typically, I like to escape somewhere in the world for several weeks at the immediate end to mango season, creating a longer transition, a way of confusing my emotions about the “season”. This immediate change into a space with more physical discomfort, as cross-cultural travel always brings, helps me avoid distress that arises in me upon the immediate emptiness found in the liminal.

Initially, in these liminal spaces, I find myself grappling with what can only be described as a deep sense of despair, a place where I’m overwhelmed by the pause (the “selah,” the quiet space between two notes). I describe this in more detail in another fall post, “Purpose, Meaning & a Mortar & Pestle” which I wrote when I was preparing to move to Missouri exactly three years ago. In that post (in that liminal space) I delved into the significance of embracing my moments of despair, accepting that the “pit of despair” is part of my process of growth.

I connected the movements and witnessing to my growth and art and creativity. That was the beginning of me becoming the noticer within these liminal spaces. Observing myself feel the power of these spaces and trust in them.  Learning to unravel and transition and fully accepting I would never accomplish any of it with grace. Crossing thresholds, is a clumpy endeavor.

This year, because of challenges in my Missouri location and a lack of reliable house/pet sitters, I didn’t go abroad. It was a death blow decision for me and one that came on the cusp of an even harder transition from summer into fall. It also coincided with this decision to move back to Brooklyn this upcoming winter (said no one ever) for three months.  A decision that is perhaps most important in my ongoing and current quest to figure out my place in the world and maybe more importantly the role of Missouri in my future. Liminal spaces help direct us after all.

I am, to some extent, a walking paradox. I’m severely extroverted but love being by myself. I love the energy, diversity and creativity of a bustling city (New York, Istanbul, Rome, Tel Aviv) and feel alive in the peaceful quiet solitude of living amidst nature, especially around water (High Falls, NY, Curia, Ecuador, Bolinas, CA and Blue Eye, MO.) I am one person but require significant space for living. I want to be known and also anonymous. I want intimacy and vulnerability and I want to be detached. I want to be challenged intellectually and humbled culturally.

Finding the best of both worlds for my paradox has always been part of my quest and, consequently, challenge. Since my early years and my Central American upbringing, I’ve wondered, “How do I fit into American culture and norms with my global values?”  These days I wonder, “How do I afford to live with peace-inducing, sweeping natural vistas around me and have access to diversity, creative thinkers, open minds, ambition, healthy food systems, organic farmers and good groceries? How do I jet off to see the world and leave my home and pets in loving hands? How do I do the stressful work I do in a peaceful and isolated location alone, but also find connection and touch? How do I continue my quest to teach people about food, farmers and cooking without selling out or going broke?  There are a lot of questions to be answered, and I know Brooklyn is the place that will bring me answers, as it was the place that calcified my global values. In a way, maybe the only place that ever felt like home to me.

I am days away from my impending move, weeks when I wrote this, and rather than succumbing to panic about the quiet, liminal space I find myself in, I have decided to embrace the present moment. I’m taking the time to observe and appreciate the little things around me, in particular in my MO herb It’s thriving, delighting me with new flavors and providing me with a wide array of opportunities to experiment and explore recipes and creative food ideas, all of which have been bottled in my fall herb salts.

The combination of tinkering with herbs, recipe creating, teaching and writing have proven to be my most effective coping mechanisms. These things also bring me great  peace and joy. These are the ingredients of the “recipe” that grows me most, especially when combined with connection, noticing, and cross cultural experiences, the later of which partially explains the impetus behind my annual fall pilgrimages to new-and-unknown-to-me parts of the world.

I’ve come to realize that when I let go and effectively apply these particular skills during challenging transitions, I liberate myself from the noise in my head, societal “norms” and all the fear and suffering that is attached to these things. I develop better ideas, robust and lasting growth and delicious food. My sense of self is more peaceful.

In celebration of this particular moment here in sunny Blue Eye, MO, just before my move to Brooklyn, I am currently embracing fall and the art of letting go and noticing through the seasonal ritual of preparing my fall herbal salts and recipes that surround them.

I’ve thoughtfully curated these Liminal Space Thanksgiving Recipes  to complement each of my fall salts. Each recipe is from either where I’ve been (past) or where I am going (new) – all are result of  some sort of letting go, all born inside on of my many liminal spaces, each one fed to friends and family around my own Thanksgiving table in various parts of the world or will be at my winter Brooklyn table.

Enjoy!

Sultry Sage Herbal Squash Salt &
Roasted Squash Medley with Vanilla & Maple Tahini Butter, Black Sesame Seeds and Vanilla Fried Sage

This recipe, like many of my old school creations, began with inspiration from a magazine. I stumbled upon something I thought was a fantastic idea (and probably emailed it to myself as I usually do). By the time I finally embarked on the making it, the idea was transformed, and the final dish was part magazine and part something I ate in Israel once. Weird and amazing, as is my way. This recipe is the epitome of exactly somewhere I’ve been and somewhere I’m going.

It’s also the perfect (and healthier) compromise for that ultra-sweet, sweet potato marshmallow thing that seems to be a staple at most Thanksgivings. This delivers the same soft caramelized sweetness, and softness that those that love that dish crave. And it goes further, exploring the unusual, sparking curiosity and anticipation. Just the aroma itself is enough to entice everyone to give it a try, free from any hesitation. The flavor maybe “one of the most delicious” I ever served at my Thanksgiving table, and that is what the kids said. You must try and use some Red Kuri squash, it has a chestnut-like flavor that makes this special.

Click here for the recipe and here to learn about the salt.

Buttermilk Chive & Parsley Salt &
Creamy Celery Leaf & Fennel Mashed Potatoes with Crispy Garlic & Sage Bits

I learned one important thing about Thanksgiving- people get pissed if you tamper too much with the classics. I learned this about mashed potatoes and my mashed potato tradition, which started way back when I was left for the holidays at college, of adding bright fresh herbs to it. If you are going to experiment, it has to be subtle and remarkable. This is both of those.

My signature move, adding some “green stuff”, tosses in celery leaf and fennel fronds chopped as finely as you could chop. This is the vitality I think a buttery and creamy mashed potato needs. Yukon Gold potatoes are mashed with SALTED butter and buttermilk using a handheld emulsifier  or a hand masher until they are ultra-creamy. Crispy garlic bits and sage fried in extra virgin olive oil are added at the end, a nod to a former lover who left me abruptly one autumn, but at least left me with this crispy garlic idea.

Click here for the recipe here and here to learn about the salt.

Cinnamon Basil Pie Spice Baking Salt &
Cinnamon Basil Spiced Pumpkin Basque Cheesecake

The concept of incorporating spent blooms into my current pie spice recipe and pumpkin cheesecake was a recent one, conceived in my liminal space of Fall 2022. The reality of my Missouri Thanksgiving table looked very different than that which I had yearned for and envisioned. Initially this overwhelmed me greatly and then, in my garden that fall, I noticed the captivating beauty of spent cinnamon basil blooms and somehow let go. It was, as this recipe is, as simple as that.

Spent cinnamon basil blooms may outwardly resemble wilted flowers on the brink of shedding their seeds and fading away. Yet, within their own unique liminal space—neither fully flowers nor yet seeds—they possess the most remarkable, potent, and warmly toasted pie spice flavor and aroma. Every farmers market should sell bundles of spent Thai and cinnamon basil blooms in fall.

Click here for the recipe and here to learn about the salt.

Bright & Lemony Autumnal Thyme Salt &
Roasted Brussels Sprouts, Apples & Mint

One of my oldest recipes that has never changed, brought to me by one of my hero’s, Martha Stewart. I can envision myself seeing a recipe with apples, mint and brussels sprouts in one of her magazines, circa 1997 in Oceanside, CA, which is about the time I started making this recipe. It’s also the time my brothers and I, who had been separated for many years, as part of our Fight & Flight for Family Freedom saga, had been reunited.

It’s been a staple on My Thanksgiving table ever since. and provides a shock-and-awe element that I enjoy as most struggle with the concept of mint in savory dishes, especially brussels sprouts. The combination may seem weird. But fresh spearmint is versatile, cooks well and adds a freshness that complements many of fall’s heavy and earthy flavors. Without Martha Stewart, I would not be the cooking me and this recipe wouldn’t exist.  She has taken such good care of me in my liminal spaces. My father wrote a letter to her on my behalf once, I wonder if she ever got it?

Click here for the recipe and here to learn about the salt.

Cuban Oregano “Thanksgiving Leftovers” Sandwich Salt &
The Thanksgiving Leftovers Cubano

This is a recipe that before these salts and this season, was neither born or tested. It’s neither here, nor there. It represents the hope that is formed as one nears the threshold of the lived in liminal space. Hope helps provide direction, something to move towards, otherwise it would be all too easy to sink into the abyss of despair. Sometimes hope is just simply comforting, like my Cuban oregano, the most beautiful Cuban oregano you ever did see, that I grow every year and never use. It lights me up, just looking at it, thinking about using it. This recipe honors that which we don’t know what to do with, until we do.

Click here for the recipe and here to learn about the salt.

Autumnal Herbal Soup Salt &
Roasted Apples & Squash Soup & Apple & Squash Mac & Cheese

You get a two-fer here. Technically this recipe was created in the liminal space between spring and summer of 2018 but the recipe was published in the liminal space between summer and fall in Edible Marin & Wine Country as part of a spread I did;  Fall in Love with Apples Savory Side.  2018 in its entirety was itself a liminal space for me. In the Fall of 2017, a partner I assumed would be around forever, left abruptly and didn’t look back. By 2018 I understood, where I was was no longer where I thought I was going and there was a sense of peace that rose from that understanding, despite the lack of clarity of exactly what it meant. I created a lot of good recipes that year and this one celebrating the savory side of apples, reminds me that things are not always obvious, but beautiful, nonetheless. The soup is divine, and it turns it into a magnificent mac and cheese!

Click here for the soup recipe and here for the mac and cheese recipe and here to learn about the salt.

Apple & Celery Thanksgiving “Stuffing” Salt &
Apple Laced Stuffed Mushrooms

Brooklyn was the place where I truly found myself. I know it may sound profound, but it was the first city I lived as an adult that provided everything I needed to grow and flourish into my authentic self. If you’re familiar with my background, you’ve likely heard of my Brooklyn cooking school, Ger-Nis. It was more than just a physical space; it was my sanctuary for exploration. A hub of learning about fresh herbs, culinary creativity, and a platform for advocating for local, organic, sustainable, and fair trade communities globally. It was a haven where many of us together in the community wholeheartedly supported and celebrated local chefs, farmers, and food artisans. I churned out recipes at a rate that seems impossible today.

Brooklyn is birthplace of this mushroom recipe, back in the fall of 2011 for a mushroom cooking class I taught.  Twenty Brooklyn locals came to learn the art of selecting, storing, and using mushrooms. This mushroom recipe became an instant hit earning a permanent spot on the menu for all our autumn events and etched into my own favorites and I’m not even a mushroom lover.

Click here for the recipe and here to learn about the salt.

Chipotle Cranberry-Mezcal Chipotle Cranberry-Mezcal Herbal Salt Brine &
Cranberry Mezcal Glazed Roasted Turkey Breast Roulade with Orange-Rosemary Gastrique Gravy

I’m not particularly fond of the label chef, primarily because I don’t work in a restaurant or prepare food for “ordering” crowds’ on a regular basis. That type of culinary role is quite distinct from what I typically do. There are some occasions when I do take on such endeavors, like I did back in Brooklyn or as I did often in San Francisco for friends Hagan and Katie, who ran the business PlaceInvaders, which specialized in hosting pop-up dinners and wine-focused PR press events.

This recipe, born from one of those, happens to be one of my favorite Thanksgiving recipes for a more intimate Thanksgiving gathering. After all, not everyone needs to roast a whole turkey, especially when the guest list is limited, which is the story of my isolated life.

In 2019, I had the honor of being the featured chef for a PlaceInvaders event—a fortified wine affair in downtown San Francisco. I crafted this recipe as part of a six-course Thanksgiving pairing menu designed to complement French fortified wine Pineau des Charentes. In a cozy Victorian “mansion” nestled in San Francisco’s Mission District, twelve guests experienced an evening filled with warmth and my culinary herbal delights.

I curated the menu to evoke the essence of an autumnal European-American Thanksgiving, infusing it with an abundance of fresh, fall-inspired herbs, aromatic salts, and, of course, this exquisite main course, Turkey roulade. It’s a dish I’ve since served numerous times at my own Thanksgiving table. To dry brine is the only turkey option in my opinion and it’s so much easier than you think. Whether you’re brining a turkey breast or a gigantic 20 lb turkey, the process is much the same and this seasons Fall Chipotle Cranberry-Mezcal Chipotle Cranberry-Mezcal Herbal Salt Brine is one of my best- just add some fresh herbs and citrus and walla. Some transitions don’t need to be messy or have you fill your bath tub with salt water. A dry brine essentially draws the foods own moisture out, couples it up with the seasons you surround it with and soaks it back in creating flavor. What a metaphor for good change!

Click here for the recipe for the salt brining process and click here for  the roulade and gastrique recipe and here to learn about the salt.