Ari's Top 5
We are, always, poets, exploring possibilities of meaning in a world which is also all the time exploring possibilities.

—Margaret Wheatley

What if Good Work was the Norm?

Coming together to create more good work, right here, right now

One of the common pieces of conversation prompted by the pandemic has been that “after this is over, everything is going to be different.” It sounds uplifting . . . though I’m not sure what people are imagining will have changed. While a crisis (personal or collective) can cause reflection, more often than not, when it’s over, things merely revert to being much the way they were before it happened. It’s nice to aspire to be better, but when we’ve allowed something to go the same way for a long time, it’s not easy to alter it. The good news, though, is that it can be done.

Much of the world right now feels like it’s in a bit of a holding pattern. Hanging on until the newly-announced vaccine successes can be rolled out; wondering what will happen at the holidays; waiting for new leadership to start work in Washington. And yet, I’d like to suggest that we have the power to get going right now. To begin making that better world we all want. We may not be able to personally change the whole world this week. But we can alter what we do when we go to work.

One place to start would be by trying to end what Wendell Berry, writing while we were in our last big national crisis in 2009, called “bad work.” While the pandemic and politics have the headlines, bad work is as big (or maybe bigger) of a long-term problem. “The industrialization of virtually all forms of production and service,” Berry writes, “has filled the world with ‘jobs’ that are meaningless, demeaning and boring—as well as inherently destructive. I don’t think there is an argument for the existence of such work, and I wish for its elimination.” A century before Berry brought it up, Emma Goldman’s BFF Alexander Berkman wrote, “The things the craftsman produced . . . were objects of joy and beauty, because the artisan loved his work. Can you expect the modern drudge . . . to make beautiful things? He is part of the machine, a cog in the soulless industry, his labor mechanical, forced.” In our own era, writer David Whyte quotes Brother David Steindl-Rast, who said, “The antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest. The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness.” Good work, I’ll suggest, is wholeheartedness. It’s the idea of “bringing your whole self to work.” It’s about approaching work and life as art, or music, or poetry. It’s about infusing—and seeing—beauty in all we do.

If John O’Donohue was correct (and I believe he is) that we are caught up in a crisis of ugliness, bad work would be one of the worst offenders. Yes, “work gets done” and people get paid (which is better certainly than nothing getting done and people having no jobs) but the human spirit and all that comes from it is diminished in the process. It’s like strip mining for the soul. When we are stuck in bad work, as Brother Steindl-Rast said, “A good half of what you do here in this organization has nothing to do with your true powers, or the place you have reached in your life. You are only half here, and half here will kill you after a while.” As I wrote in the Introduction to Part 2:

Bad work is almost always exhausting; people finish it feeling physically and emotionally drained: doing less bad work is only slightly less exhausting than doing more. Bad work, to use a technical term, just plain sucks. I don’t want to do it, and I don’t want anyone else to have to do it either. Bad work is about people being treated as if they have nothing insightful to offer, as if they know next to nothing, or are “too stupid to understand upper-level activity.” Bad work is about people being regularly managed in ways that are at best disrespectful and, at worst, downright abusive. It’s about people going to work every day in settings that aren’t in sync with their values—going “into the closet” when you go to work is a hard way to go.
Part of what put this into my mind right now is reading David Graeber’s book Bullshit Jobs. Graeber was an anarchist and an anthropologist. We never met, though I’ve learned a lot from his work. Sadly, he died at the age of 59 this past September. His book on Debt, as well as his writing on consensus and collaborative cultures have all been quite interesting and insightful for me. Bullshit Jobs, his last book, is about the idea that modern Western economies are loaded up (or maybe I should say “bloated up”) with “bullshit jobs”—jobs that really have no point and don't do much other than provide paychecks and evidence of economic expenditure. Graeber demonstrates quite clearly how these sorts of meaningless jobs are built into the routines of big companies, academia, and governments. Graeber wonders: Why do organizations spend money they say they don't have? And why do people who have those jobs—who are often, Graeber shows, pretty well paid—put up with them? I don’t have the answers. I have friends who fit this bill. But it made me wonder why in presidential election campaigns (or in any political campaign) does the quality of work never come up? People propose ways to create more jobs but never talk about the quality of the work that will be created. Or improving the quality of the jobs that already exist. It’s as if we’re measuring only how to serve more meals without even questioning whether the meal might be a Big Mac or a Zingerman’s Reuben. It kind of matters, doesn't it? While getting any meal is clearly better than having none, given a choice to create one kind or the other, wouldn’t it better to offer something enriching and enlivening?

On a scale of 0 to 10, bad work is a 6 or below. We tolerate it because we have bills to pay and families to feed, but not too many people would recommend it. (See Secret #19, “Fixing the Energy Crisis in the American Workplace” for more on this.) Ten years after Wendell Berry wrote about bad work, Stephen Gill (the nationally-known expert on training who passed away earlier this year) reported that things hadn’t changed much. Steve said in most American workplaces:
Minds are not fully engaged and not effective. People who are bored, tired, overworked, not challenged, and disengaged are underperforming. About a third of U.S. employees find their work engaging, which hasn’t changed much over the past few years. This means that two-thirds are probably not learning what their company needs them to learn. . . . As a result, the Corporate IQ will not grow, and the organization will not get smarter. Companies need to focus on the relationship between empowering people and improving employee engagement, satisfaction, and performance.
Bad work has long been accepted as the norm. And yet, I would argue, as business writer Gary Hamel said, “None of this is OK, not by a long shot.” Most American businesses, he says, create jobs that are dehumanizing. “Our organizations,” Hamel adds, “are less adaptable, less creative and less inspiring. In other words, less human, than we are. And it’s getting worse.” And, he challenges us all: “Unless we’re willing to be similarly honest and forthright, we’re part of the problem, not the solution. But before challenging others, we need to challenge ourselves.” I agree. Why dwell in the darkness when we know darned well we can do better? Positive action towards a higher purpose begets energy that slowly but surely improves our collective ecosystems.

If we make incremental improvement to that bad work, we can move to the middle of the continuum and get what I would call “good jobs.” A “good job” is what I had 39 years ago, before I left my kitchen manager position to end up opening the Deli with Paul four and half months after I gave my two-months’ notice. The work was perfectly fine; people were pretty pleasant. A 7.5 on a scale of 0 to 10—maybe an 8. I got paid ok, but I got tired of it. We can, by creating good work, do better.

How do we do it? Ultimately, it’s my strong belief that when we work in harmony with nature—in this case, human nature, as outlined in the “Natural Laws of Business”—we move meaningfully towards good work. In doing so we can create workplaces that honor the unique capabilities and creativity of every single person we hire; when we embrace that the healthiest ecosystems in nature are the most diverse, and do our best to replicate the natural diversity in what we do and who we do it with every day; when we bring beauty into every single action; when we make dignity and grace into the ways we work every day, then we have the chance to take things to the next level. When we do that, we create good work. And when we make good work, we can change the world.

There's a section in the Introduction to Part 2 that talks about good work. I read it to audiences fairly regularly when I teach:
Good work is life altering, fulfilling, and fun. Good work is about learning, laughing, growing, all the while earning enough money to make your dreams come true. It’s about collaborating with people you care about and who share your values, contributing something positive to the people and the community around you. It’s fun, not something you flee from. It’s a place you want to be, even if you rightfully have other places you want to go. Good work is about positive energy—both feeling it and building it. Good work is about doing something you believe in, work that you care about in a workplace that cares about you. It’s endlessly sustainable, not energy-sapping. While people might certainly, on any given day, go home tired after doing good work, they’re rarely spiritually exhausted. When we’re into what we’re doing, giving it everything we’ve got, learning and laughing even under duress, the experience is likely to be energizing, even if, in the moment, physically tiring.

At its upper reaches, good work can be one of the most rewarding things one ever engages in. If we build our business in sustainable ways; if we treat everyone with respect regardless of title, background, race, religion, or resume; if we encourage people to be themselves and help them get there; if we work to bring out the best in everyone; if we convey to people how much difference their work actually makes and then simultaneously teach them how to make a difference in the way that their workplace is run; if we keep everyone learning and laughing; if we work the numbers so that everyone wins from a financial standpoint . . . then we create very good work. When we get good work right, we make a reality of Emma Goldman’s once radical and, at the time, seemingly fantastical belief in “ . . . the freest possible expression of all the latent powers of the individual . . . (which is) only possible in a state of society where man is free to choose the mode of work, the conditions of work, and the freedom to work. One to whom the making of a table, the building of a house, or the tilling of the soil, is what the painting is to the artist and the discovery to the scientist—the result of inspiration, of intense longing, and deep interest in work as a creative force."
I can hardly read this without tearing up. Hearing the words, even silently in my head, my own energy and passion are lifted. It almost always gets very positive response. It’s what I want from my work. Whether the “work” is in a business, an academic or religious institution, a not-for-profit, or a school system, I think it’s likely what every human being would like. People can argue about politics, but I don’t think anyone is actively looking for bad work. Good work is what most people want at home, and it’s what we want from our personal and professional relationships. It's true for professors and parents, prep cooks, pipefitters, and poets alike.

Please understand. I’m not trying to suggest that we have this good work thing down pat here at Zingerman’s. None of us will achieve perfection—we can only push towards it and recover with grace when we fall short. There are a thousand things at Zingerman’s that I know we need to do better, and ten times that many that have never crossed my mind. The point is we’re trying. Our heads and our hearts are in the right place and, imperfectly, we’re working hard to make good work a reality. We’re not, I know, alone. There are many organizations, many leaders, all over the world, who have bought into this idea. And who, in their own wonderful ways, are working hard to make fulfilling, enriching, engaging good work their reality as well.

Ultimately, good work happens when we have made what we do every day into our art. Artists who believe in their work are more grounded. Their energy is more engaged. They focus more on their own creative design, rather than raking others over the communal coals. As Stephen Pressfield’s book, The War of Art. He says: “Individuals who are realized in their own lives almost never criticize others. If they speak at all, it is to offer encouragement.” The more good work we create the calmer, creative and collaborative our communities can be. Bringing out the beauty, advancing the artist, supporting the spirit and sustaining the creativity of our coworkers . . . all the while still paying the bills for the business and for everyone who’s a part of it . . . is, in my mind, our challenge. Servant Leadership dictates that we dedicate ourselves to designing and making organizations that make good work the expectation. And even when we fail and fall short (which we will all do) we can watch “game film” and get ourselves going back in the right direction.

How do we do it? The books in the Guide to Good Leading series are, basically, “how-to” handbooks to help you make that new way to work a reality. Since I wrote Part 2, there are a couple dozen more “Secrets” in the series, more ways that I/we keep learning to do a better job of creating good work. There are plenty of other resources too. It’s what most of the anarchists I’m drawn to—such as Gustav Landauer and Emma Goldman—were advocating. It’s what people like Peter Block, Margaret Wheatley, adrienne maree brown, Jacqueline Novogratz, Peter Koestenbaum, Gary Hamel, and others are writing books about. When we create good work, everyone comes out ahead. Neil Gaimon said, “Everybody has ideas. People daydream constantly, people let their minds go walking.” As Servant Leaders we have an obligation to help make that happen through the art that is our business. Because as the poet Amiri Baraka once said, “The artist's role is to raise the consciousness of the people. To make them understand life, the world and themselves more completely.”

What are the take-aways of all this?   
  • Although anxiety and skepticism in hard times can easily override optimism, it’s still true that everyone I talk to would at least want to be able to have good work.

  • While there’s no magical cure for bad work, we don’t need to wait for Washington. 

  • The more good work we create, folks will likely not want to settle for anything less.

  • While there’s no way to just convert all work instantly into good work, we can work hard to increase the frequency with which it happens. We can get to work on this right now. 

  • Working to create good work is—if one can manage the stress of trying to make positive change happen—is, in itself, good work.

Even in a pandemic we have the power to make the changes right here, right now. In his preface to E. F. Schumacher’s Good Work, his colleague George McRobie writes,

Schumacher would invariably get asked by someone, often overwhelmed, in the audience, “But what can I do?” His simple answer was “Do three things, one after the other, one leading into the other. . . . Start where you are. But start. Don’t wait for the perfect situation."
Schumacher is, I believe, thinking about small steps towards dignity, honoring nature, building positive beliefs, appreciation, purpose, vision, positive energy, engagement, leadership mindsets, humility, teaching and using open book management, honoring everyone for who they are, a chance to get involved and make a big difference every day, meaningful work. Stuff like consensus, staff partners, a way for anyone to lead change . . . all make a positive contribution to the cause. It will still be imperfect, but it’s progress. If I do three things a day, by the end of a year that’s over 1000 small things I’ve done to improve the richness of our organizational ecosystem. If you have 10 colleagues, that’s 10,000. If you have 100 people working in your organization, that’s 100,000 contributions to the cause of good work this year alone. In the process, economies improve, people eat better, communities are more vibrant, and people are kinder to each other and to themselves.

Will it work? I believe, from the bottom of my heart: Yes! Each time we put effort into enhancing and advancing good work, bringing beauty into the workplace, dedicating ourselves to dignity and bringing out the artist in everyone we know, good things are sure to have come of it. Love, kindness, and creativity can become the order of the day. As John O’Donohue said: “If you send out goodness from yourself, or if you share that which is happy or good within you, it will all come back to you multiplied ten thousand times. In the kingdom of love there is no competition; there is no possessiveness or control. The more love you give away, the more love you will have.”

Want to learn more about the work to make good work happen? Check out ZingTrain’s special one-day online learning session, Intentional Leadership, coming up on Wednesday, December 9. Early bird pricing ends the day after Thanksgiving!

P.S. If you want to move further along this path, or help someone else get going, we wanted to offer an even more special deal on a set of the four books in the Zingerman’s Guide to Good Leading series at Zingerman’s Press. Now through December 8, use the code GRAND for an additional 25% off. And, if you like, I’d be glad to sign them accordingly—just put a note in the order comments if you’d like them personalized.

P.P.S. If the leader you know would rather read in short bursts, we have a collection of all the Secret Pamphlets in the series. The discount code works for this as well.

P.P.P.S. We also decided to create a Good Work Leadership Pamphlet Pack: “12 Natural Laws of Business,” “Servant Leadership,” “Stewardship,” and “Going into Business with Emma Goldman”—plus a print out of the Good Work Introduction from Part 2

Marash Turkish Red Pepper Flakes

The magical spice of eastern Turkey


If you want an easy way to help bring the flavors of your cooking alive in under a minute, you might want to pick up a jar of this terrific dried red pepper from Turkey. Marash pepper is magical. The more you use it, the more likely you’ll feel like a magician in the kitchen. My longtime friend and award-winning Boston chef Ana Sortun (at Oleanna and Sofra) said:

Marash is dear to my heart and I can’t cook without it now. I reach for it like most reach for black pepper and in fact it replaces black pepper in many cases. Its job is to lift flavor. Not to make something super spicy although you could use it this way, too. It’s sweet, warm, oily and vegetal and not too spicy. It’s perfect on everything including salad. I like to keep it in a shaker on the counter so it’s easy to shake over breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Marash is one of the most impressively flavorful dried red peppers I've ever tried. The peppers are grown in the town of Karanmaras, the pepper capital of Turkey—up until 1973 it was known merely as Maras. In either case, pronounce the “s” as an “sh.” I heard about these incredible red pepper flakes from friend and food writer Paula Wolfert. Paula, in turn, learned about them from Ayfer Unsal, an avid supporter of her homeland’s traditional foods. Thanks to Ayfer, we’ve been getting the Marash (and Urfa) pepper from Turkey ever since. Ayfer, I should add, has been teaching Turkish traditional cooking for years, and she’s always been working to enhance life in her community. She made it a particular focus to try to bring together Turkish and Armenian women in an attempt to heal the wounds of Armenian massacres early in the 20th century. She’s also engaged in a program to bring back the grandchildren of Armenian exiles to visit Turkey and be welcomed with dignity and honor. “Having them cook with me helps them feel at home in my house. When we enjoy food together, we can put aside the past.”

The peppers for Marash, all grown right around Karanmaras, are first sun-dried, then seeded, with just a tiny bit of salt added. When you get “red pepper flakes” in most pizza joints in one of those shaker jars, you’ll notice lots of seeds. The seeds add weight for the seller but no flavor for the eater. Marash, by contrast, is completely seed free. It has an amazingly full flavor with just a moderate amount of heat. By comparison, cayenne pepper is one dimensional—hot, but hardly flavorful. Use Marash red pepper on pasta, pizza, casseroles, or anyplace else you'd use red pepper flakes. Here’s a great bulgur salad from the folks at Oldways (through whom I first met Ana Sortun).

Marash pepper is woven into so many items on our menu at the Deli, that 25 years later that it’s hard to imagine life without it. At the Roadhouse we use it in the vinegar sauce for the pulled pork, the refried beans, and then some. We use it at the Bakehouse in the savory kitchen. And I have two jars of it sitting on our kitchen table at home (about 16 inches from where I’m typing right now) to use on salads, pasta, eggs, and just about everything else. One of the things that Paula Wolfert taught me about Marash many years ago is that if you mix the flakes with citrus juice it will relatively quickly break down into a paste. Mix the pepper flakes with lemon juice—within a matter of ten minutes the peppers will dissolve. You can also use a simple paste of Marash and lemon or orange juice to rub onto chicken, lamb, or pork before cooking.

It’s hard to go wrong having a jar of Marash red pepper on your table. As Ana Sortun said, “It will change your life and your recipes for the better.” I’ll leave you with this line from Jane Black, who I met years ago at Camp Bacon when she was writing for the Washington Post, who said of Marash: “Think of it as the Eartha Kitt of chilies . . . sultry and rich with a slow, subtle heat.”

You can pick up Marash pepper at the Deli or Bakeshop or have some shipped to a cook close to your heart.

Cranberry Walnut Pie

One of the quiet wonders of the Bakehouse

If you’re a long time Zingerman’s regular, you likely know the items that have gained us fame over the last quarter century of baking. Sour cream coffee cakes, Jewish rye bread, Pecan Raisin, Magic Brownies, pecan pie . . . Then there are the amazing new additions—breads and pastries made with flour that’s freshly milled on site like Country Miche and True North. Add in those incredible Hungarian specialties like Rigó Jancsi and Dobos Torte and the longtime traditional Jewish items like hamantaschen and macaroons. It’s quite a dream team. And yet, there is a whole series of great items that seem to only rarely get attention that are exceptionally delicious. This Cranberry Walnut pie is one of them. While I like all the pies the Bakehouse makes (pecan, apple, pumpkin, chocolate chess, key lime, rhubarb, and jumble berry), this is one of my favorites. I guess I’m not alone. Good Housekeeping Magazine once called it one of the “top mail order pies in the country.”

As you’d guess from the name, the pie is loaded up with cranberries and walnuts. The colors alone are awesome—autumnal and amazing reds, yellows, and browns. I think what puts it over the top is the old-style Muscovado brown sugar that we get from Mauritius. Its flavor is just so much better than the commercial brown sugar everyone else uses. Most commercial brown sugar has actually been refined all the way down to white, taking out all its natural molasses, and then a bit of molasses is added back to give it color. Flavor wise, commercial brown sugar really isn’t all that much different than white. You really can taste the difference. It’s very flavorful and far less sweet. Which is, I’ll say, part of what I love about this pie. The walnuts and cranberries are the stars of the show—the sugar is really more like a background singer. The all-butter crust helps hold it all together.

You can of course serve the Cranberry Walnut pie with whipped cream or a side of the Creamery’s vanilla gelato. The Roadhouse has it on the dessert menu right now accompanied by a bit of house-made cranberry sauce. It also works well in the old Vermont tradition—with a slice of sharp cheddar laid across the top (at room temperature, not melted!). And, also in the Vermont tradition, a slice of the Cranberry Walnut pie is wonderful for breakfast. I will guarantee that your day will get going with just a bit more of a smile if you start it with a slice of this stuff.

P.S. The Deli is going on the road again, this time with Zingerman’s Pie Pickup Truck. We’ll be visiting half a dozen cities in three days during December and bringing a bunch of those now famous savory Pot Pies, sweet pies from the Bakehouse, and other goodies to stock your freezer and larder.


Butterscotch Pudding at the Roadhouse

A delicious dessert with a terrific touch of sea salt

If I was going to be eating dinner at (or, right now, ordering carryout from) the Roadhouse, the Butterscotch Pudding is what I would order to close out my meal. I don’t really eat much in the way of sweets, but I surely do love this. As do a LOT of other regular customers. When it’s not on the dessert list it evokes loads of requests. Made with butter, cream, and a lot of naturally made, dark Muscovado sugar (the same stuff that goes into the wonderful Cranberry Walnut pie above or our delicious Roadhouse donuts). We serve it sprinkled with a pinch of the super delicate sea salt that the French call “fleur de sel.” Honestly, it might be worth driving by just to have dessert.

Butterscotch dates back in culinary history about two hundred years. It was “invented” near the town of Doncaster in Yorkshire in the north of England. Later it became popular on this side of the Atlantic, to the point that, as the LA Times wrote, “Once upon a time, butterscotch was the darling of the American sweet tooth.” If you’re taking some of this stuff home, try it with a bit of a Bakehouse Ginger Jump Up cookie crumbled on top. It’s also very good garnished with chocolate—or just eat a square of some good dark chocolate and then a spoonful of the pudding. Contrasting and pretty terrific! It’s great on a casual Monday evening and just as appropriate at a holiday meal for your family. And if you want to think beyond 2020, September 19 is National Butterscotch Pudding Day—no time like the present to start planning a post-pandemic butterscotch pudding party!


Jelly Bean Jump Up 2021 Canine Calendars are Here!

A dog lover’s—or any caring human’s—donation to Safehouse Center


No one, I know, needs a paper calendar. Electronics have made them anything but essential. If you buy one here in 2020, it’s probably all about emotion. Which in this case is totally appropriate. The Jelly Bean Jump Up came out of the sadness five and half years ago this past spring as a way to honor the memory of my 17-year-old Corgi pup, Jelly Bean who died, quietly, on our porch. One good way I know to work through grief and loss (after anger and gradual acceptance) is to start turning the pain into something positive. So, in the spirit of the generosity, care, kindness, and determination that Jelly Bean exhibited so beautifully, the following fall we decided to start an annual fundraiser to honor her positive presence on the planet—the Jelly Bean Jump Up in support of Safehouse Center for the victims of domestic abuse here in Washtenaw County. This February will be the 6th Annual.

This year, it’s especially important to support Safehouse Center. While everyone is having a hard time in the pandemic, data continues to show that domestic abuse rates are up a lot over the last nine months. The BBC reported this summer: “The UN has described the worldwide increase in domestic abuse as a "shadow pandemic" alongside Covid-19.” A few months ago, the New England Journal of Medicine wrote, “The pandemic has highlighted how much work needs to be done to ensure that people who experience abuse can continue to obtain access to support, refuge, and medical care when another public health disaster hits.”

The Jump Up, I’m glad to say, gets a bit bigger each year. Three years ago, we added a lovely little afternoon canine photo shoot at the Roadhouse courtesy of photographer Jenni Heller. Jenni donated her time to take photos of pups; Melaina Bukowski, who beautifully manages all our community giving work here, had the insightful idea to turn the photos into a really cute calendar; and the folks at Dollar Bill Printing gave us a very generous price for the printing. Which means that all of the $20-per-calendar cost goes directly to Safehouse Center.

The formal Jelly Bean Jump Up will happen again this coming February here in the ZCoB, at Plum Market, Probility, Old National Bank, and others—but the calendars are here NOW! You’ll find them at all the Zingerman’s businesses (order online from the Deli here)! If you’d like to have a calendar sent as a gift, email Melaina at She’ll add the cost of shipping and get it sent on its way! This year’s calendar is filled with cute puppy pictures for a cause—Whitley, Mocha, Frankie, and Lulu are just a few of the Washtenaw County’s fine furry citizens who happily contribute their smiling countenances to support Safehouse Center. Two of our dogs—Pepper and Eva—are in there too.

The word calendar comes from the Roman calendae, which refers to the first day of the month in the Roman calendar. Its root is related to the verb calare, meaning "to call out.” The calendar then, can in a quiet way, help to call out for help—to remind us all that even if we are ourselves have not been victims of domestic abuse, the problem is clearly very real. In the spirit of E.F. Schumacher that I cited above, we can take small steps. Buying and gifting a few calendars is one.

Other things on my mind

Thanks to the New York Times for coming out in support of the RESTAURANTS Act. Congress, we believe, is getting close to agreeing on some form of stimulus package. has details and easy access to Congressional emails. Your support makes a difference to us and to every local independent café, restaurant, and diner in the country.

Listening: Matt Bauer and Britton Ashford both have made beautiful music on their own. Now they’ve made an EP together.

Reading: David Graeber’s book Bullshit Jobs.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this enews and you know someone else who might like it, please pass it along. Have questions about Zingerman’s? Write us at
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