Sweet Chamomile in the Hour of War

I've been working on something hush-hush

pc: Margo in CDMX.

Two years ago, I dug myself into a happy cave. After publishing every other week for a year, I needed new vibrations. I felt the need to write pieces with poetic bass and sonic appeal. I wanted pieces I could perform on stage. That cave birthed: seduced in condesa and a brunch to cry for (which drew a lot of you here!), and ultimately led to buttahbasted, my book, and my events!

Fast forward to today—2026 feels insane. Wars are waged upon us helter-skelter. Wars on our wallets ($8 coffee ??). Wars on truth. Wars on our attention and intellect. Wars on what it means to be human in the impending age of AI. Wars killing innocent people in the Middle East. Wars on American streets where masked men kill citizens in broad daylight.

Against the backdrop of these hostilities, I’ve been writing about food and spices. Food and spices bring us back to our better selves. Everyone eats. Everyone has nostalgic meals from yesterday. Everyone wants to feast tomorrow. Deliciousness cuts across every creed, every tribe, every religion, and every manufactured line we use to divide ourselves.

Food is resistance! Food is all about people coming together. I cannot promise cooking will right the world of its ills, but sharing your dinner table with friends lets sunlight into the darkness. We need to break bread, for us and for each other. When the world is spinning out of whack, our need for creativity grows. It’s how we create micro moments of joy. Most of us adults no longer sing or dance or draw or paint—our kitchens are our last remaining bastions of creativity.

Everyday I walk past my pantry, I see these little spice jars, and think nothing of them. These brown, ground-up pellets look pretty and petite, but hidden in those jars are CENTURIES of historic tales. Epic sagas that make Game of Thrones sound tame. Centuries of stealing and smuggling, brutal beheadings and murders, but also indigenous ingenuity, locals adapting to new locales, dumb luck, (mis-)fortune, and foreign seeds acclimatizing to sweeter soils.

Food and spices are infinite wells. I could keep digging in them and forever find more to talk about. Listen to the vocabulary we use when we speak about food. What does “authentic” mean? Whose food is familiar and what is strange? How did “gamey” become a pejorative? How did Black Pepper became the default companion to salt? What textures do we deem acceptable and what is outside the frame? Why must meat melt in your mouth like butter? Meat with chew is good for you. It’s often more delicious; hundreds of cultures around the world know this.

I’m calling this collection, Sweet Chamomile in the Hour of War. In the pages to follow, I will stir up, I will lift up, & I will sing songs about food and spices. Expect foods outside the Western gaze, hot takes, perspectives on culinary traditions you’ve probably questioned, a little history, and a lot of delicious. The same way chamomile calms me down when my head is spinning about, I hope these pieces take you away from the madness du jour—and make you a little hungry too!

My dream is for this to become a beautiful, hardcover project set in landscape accompanied with full-bleed pictures (12x9 inches). But I’m getting wayyyy ahead of myself. First, I wanna know what you think. Pls tell me!!

Here are a few teasers of what’s coming. Tell me in the comments what you think!

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As always, thank you for reading ❤️.