Ari's Top 5

We can only know what we can truly imagine. Finally what we see comes from ourselves. —Marge Piercy


The Power of Personal Visioning in a Pandemic

Why now is a terrific time to write your life story

Malcolm Gladwell said, “Once you don’t start at the beginning, your life just gets so much easier.” Why not, then, use the end as the beginning? It’s an oft-used tactic for writers and filmmakers, so why not try it in our lives? When we know how the story winds up, we will most likely alter the way we approach it from the start. When the story in question is our own life, it will pretty surely change what we do when we get to work. And when we get home today. And tomorrow. And all the days after that. Psychologist Paul Watzlawick is right when he says, “In this sense it was the future—not the past—that determined the present.”

When the currents of the country are swirling, and the world right now seems impossibly uncertain, as much as this month might feel like the last time you would want to write a vision of the future for yourself, I want to at least plant the seed of the suggestion: This week might be a wonderful opportunity to take some time away from everything else you have going on, sit down, and draft a personal vision of greatness. I know that might sound strange. There’s so much else that we all have on our minds. But as you know, I often like to go in a different direction. If the thought of drafting one causes you anxiety, I certainly understand. I started out as a cynic on the subject. But having been around the work of visioning for 30 years now, I’ll assure you that the risk is really low, and the upside is enormous. Living just to get by is often all we feel like we can do. But I believe we can do more. And that when, as Marge Piercy’s poem says, “We are trying to live as if we were an experiment conducted by the future,” life sure gets a whole lot more interesting.

As I mentioned, when I first learned about visioning back in the early 90s, I responded mostly with skepticism. Like so many other people I met, I didn’t understand its power. It was a different way of working and thinking, and I was seemingly doing fine without it. It’s been many decades now since I became a devotee. Saying that visioning changed my life is an understatement. Zingerman’s wouldn’t be here without it. My life would be radically different. Many of you, having worked with ZingTrain or learned it from the Guide to Good Leading books would say the same. It works. As the Buddha says, “What you imagine you create.”

So why write a personal vision right now? Because having a vision helps us get clear on where we’re going when we’re working through trying times. Because it helps us get clear on our purpose. Because it helps others around us to help us go where we want to go (as opposed to where they want us to go). More practically, maybe because Dr. Fauci—who seems to have a better sense of this pandemic situation than most anyone—and other high-end medical folk are saying, that by later in 2021 we’ll have vaccines widely distributed. Which means that a year from now I can realistically strategically imagine a future where restaurant seating won't be limited to 50 percent anymore, where I’m getting on planes, where your kids go to school more calmly, where Tammie and I are traveling again. (Will everything be the same as it was? Of course not. No day ever was the same as any other day.) This is, I believe, an ideal time to dive right in and write. Maria Popova proposes in her fine book Figuring: “At watershed moments of upheaval and transformation, we anticipate with terror the absence of the familiar parts of life and of ourselves that are being washed away by the current of change. But we fail to envision the unfamiliar gladnesses and gratifications the new tide would bring.”

I take Maria’s point well. Focusing on what’s wrong is easy, but as a long-term strategy it’s not very effective. As Socrates said so many centuries ago, “The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old but on building the new.” It’s easy to complain or identify what’s wrong. In ourselves, in others, in politics, in social behaviors. But the more meaningful work is to work out where we want to be. Then share that. And then make it happen. As historian Robin D. G. Kelley writes, “Without new visions, we don’t know what to build, only what to knock down. We not only end up confused, rudderless, and cynical, but we forget that making a revolution is not a series of clever maneuvers and tactics, but a process that can and must transform us.”

Now is a good time too, because when we’re most frustrated, we have a chance to turn the negative into something meaningful and positive that can create the sort of lasting positive change all of us want. It’s a chance to take what we’re frustrated about, what we see wrong, and write the opposite—i.e., what we would like to see—into the vision of our own design. As 19th century women’s rights activist and pacifist Carrie Chapman Catt put it so poetically, “To the wrongs that need resistance, To the right that needs assistance, To the future in the distance, Give yourselves.”

In the last week of October 1967, Martin Luther King gave a speech to a group of high school students in Philadelphia. The talk isn’t a secret, but somehow I’d never heard it until last week. Perhaps it’s another sign that now is the time to give an hour to detailing the future of our dreams. Speaking of which, Dr. King’s inspirational “I Have a Dream” speech is very clearly about vision. This one, though, might even more so. What Dr. King told the high schoolers holds true for all of us: 

This is the most important and crucial period of your lives. For what you decide now at this age may well determine which way your life shall go. And whenever a building is constructed, you usually have an architect who draws a blueprint. And that blueprint serves as the pattern, as the guide, as the model, for those who are to build the building. And a building is not well erected without a good, sound, and solid blueprint. Now each of you is in the process of building the structure of your lives, and the question is: whether you have a proper, a solid, and a sound blueprint.
Chris Wilson, who I wrote about last week, calls this his Master Plan. Here at Zingerman’s we call it a vision. Dr. King called it a “blueprint.” They’re ultimately just different words for the same thing. An inspiring, strategically sound vision of the future—our future—that we write down, and then actively share with others around us. There’s much more about these four characteristics and how we use them at Zingerman’s in Part 1 of the Guide to Good Leading series. Dr. King asks us to put three other things in our “blueprints.” All are implicit in what we already teach, but I like the way he brings them to the forefront:
Number 1: “Principle of Somebodiness”

I love the way Dr. King phrased that statement. Writing a personal vision is one of the best ways I know to honor who we are. To uncover our inherent uniqueness. In an era where epithets and antipathy are the order of the day, telling our own story—set in the future of our choosing—is an inspiring and effective way to make our way in the world. When you draft a personal vision, it will, like you, be completely unique in the world. If the means need to be congruent with the ends as I believe they do, visioning is a way to bring our innate value as individuals into the open. As Dr. King said, the vision should include, “A deep belief in your own dignity, your own worth and your own somebodiness. Don’t allow anybody to make you feel that you are nobody. Always feel that you count. Always feel that you have worth, and always feel that your life has ultimate significance.” Dignity, as you know, is close to my heart. As Dr. King suggested, if we embed it in our visions, the odds go up a lot that we will go on to make it a reality in our daily lives. 

Number 2: “Determination to Achieve Excellence”

This is why, at Zingerman’s, we call these “visions of greatness.” What you choose to do, I always believe, is fully for you to decide. The idea here is that whatever that is, do it well. Better than well. Wonderfully. If you want to retire, do it with grace. If you want to start a business, or a family, or a nonprofit, do those well too. As we teach it, we write these drafts with our hearts, not our heads. Going for greatness, we know, is always more work. But it’s good work. Settling for so-so is ultimately exhausting. Driving for excellence, as Dr. King has suggested, is the other way—more work, but energizing! 

Number 3: “Commitment to the Eternal Principles”

Dr. King called on us to honor our values. “In your life’s blueprint,” he said, “must be a commitment to the eternal principles of beauty, love, and justice. Don’t allow anybody to pull you so low as to make you hate them. . . . You have a responsibility to seek to make life better for everybody. And so, you must be involved in the struggle for freedom and justice.” When we write a vision that’s aligned with who we really are and what we truly believe in our hearts, everything will go better. 
The benefits of having a vision—or a blueprint—run in what seems like millions. In Part 1 I wrote a list of reasons why having a written vision of greatness is a good thing. In Part 4 I added a bunch more of my beliefs about visioning, why it works, and why it’s so important. It’s infinitely easier to hold course when working through a pandemic if one is already clear and committed on where one is going. Our energy is higher. We feel better. The positive beliefs that come with it have a positive impact on our health. We have clarity on our sense of purpose. Visioning, I will say with confidence, creates the positive future we can get excited about working towards. Right now, there is much to be unhappy about in the world. I’ve always had long lists of what we can do better here at Zingerman’s. Years ago, I used to be pretty harsh in the conversation in my head about why we weren’t already doing better. But as I wrote last week, I’ve learned over the years to treat myself more kindly, to strive for excellence, while still driving for a positive future. Visioning was one of the ways I learned to make peace with myself and carve out a piece of the future that felt really right for me.

Do you have to write a vision? Of course not. Most of the world will continue on apace without doing so. And yet, visioning gives us a chance to choose our own future; to design our dream, to put out the blueprint of our lives as Dr. King said so eloquently. But in my experience, when we’re without vision, life can get very hard. As John O’Donohue said, “When we lose sight of beauty our struggle becomes tired and functional.” 

Worried that you won’t know what to write in your vision? I understand. I had the same feeling when I first learned about this process. But the beauty of the way we do visioning is that you don't need to know now what you want to do. You just have to sit down and start writing. We all, I believe, already know in our hearts where we want to go and how we want to live. As John O’Donohue says, “Your soul knows the geography of your destiny.” Hugh MacLeod wrote that “Everyone is born creative; everyone is given a box of crayons in kindergarten. Then when you hit puberty they take the crayons away and replace them with dry, uninspiring books on algebra, history, etc. Being suddenly hit years later with the ‘creative bug’ is just a wee voice telling you, ‘I’d like my crayons back, please.’” (Maybe we should be concerned that the word “adult” is taken from the Latin verb adulterāre, meaning “to corrupt”?)

As I wrote in Part 4, in Secret #47, “My Beliefs about Visioning”:
I’ve watched the visioning process work with thousands of people over the years. Many have a hard time writing at first. Worry and overthinking start to get in the way. But the discipline of the “hot pen” always takes them to the next level. As Pablo Picasso points out, “One doesn’t paste one’s ideas on a painting . . . One simply paints.” Time after time I’ve seen the change in their faces—eyes come alive, smiles soften, energy is increased. All from 40 or 50 or 60 minutes of free writing. The process is the point. The pen becomes the paint. You are the painter.
This piece is a call to all of us to grab a box of mental crayons and start coloring. When you write, insert the beauty you want; bring alive your life story in ways that make you smile. Remember that the delight (not devil) is in the details. The “how to” of the process is in the books. Secret #35 is all about personal visioning and includes the recipe for writing one. Just to help you over the hump, I’ll guarantee it. If you buy a pamphlet (or a copy of Part 3, which includes that essay) and it doesn’t help you, just send me a note and we’ll send you back your money. What’s to lose? What’s in it for me? The better you do, the better I do. We’re all in it together. Cleary, these are tough times. I’m due to write my next personal vision too. I’m going to do it next week. Because as Patti Smith said, “The ones that endure are the ones that really stay true to their vision.”

P.S. If you want a real life story of how visioning works that has nothing to do with Zingerman’s or ZingTrain, look up the life of science fiction writer Octavia Butler. Her work, and her life, are an inspiration. And, if you want an odd aside about futuring in science . . . 

For much more on visioning, see Secrets #6-9, #35 & #47.

Or ZingTrain’s upcoming virtual workshops.

New Goat Brie from the Creamery


A taste of Michigan that French cheese fans will love

Here’s a great new little offering from the Creamery, that’s offering any of us who like goat cheese some excellent eating for the season. The Creamery goat brie is a wonderful, white bloomy-rinded round of handmade lusciousness carefully crafted at the Creamery. Lovely little wheels of marvelous mellow goat cheese made in southeast Michigan, but in the French tradition. So flavorful and distinctive that I forecast it will be steadily winning fans for years to come.

The base of the cheese is the same high quality, local Michigan goat milk—gently pasteurized (low temperature for a longer time to protect the delicate flavors of the milk)—that we use for our other goat cheeses. We begin the making with rennet and add a centuries-old starter culture that was originally sourced from dairies that make raw milk Camembert in Normandy. The milk is allowed to set, then cut and ladled completely by hand. We age it for about three weeks so the white bloomy rind can develop, and the cheese can develop its full flavor. The longer it matures the more the wheels soften in texture. I like them on the younger side when they’re still a bit firmer, but many Francophiles will want to wait ’til they get nice and runny. 

If some skeptic in your life doubts the veracity of making traditional French-style goat cheese like this in Michigan, you can remind them the recipe for this beautiful little goat brie was brought to us by a Frenchman who’s from the third generation of his family’s business. One of the bright spots through the difficulties of getting through the last year is that we’ve been fortunate to work with, and learn from, Jules Mons! Eat Jules’ lovely creation on its own, or accompanied by heirloom apples, paired with pears, or piled with toasted walnuts. And, of course, it’s a beautiful thing with any of the Bakehouse great breads—a baguette would be a beautiful accompaniment! The four-ounce wheels are perfect as an appetizer for two. Three or four bites for each, bringing complex flavor and a really fine finish.

More Creamery Cheeses

The Art of the Vote!

New pins at the Roadhouse to send a positive message

I’m pretty sure that you won’t need me to remind you to vote in early November. My bet is you’re already planning on it. But, still, it can’t hurt to spread the word as you walk around town. Here’s a way to do that, support an amazing artist, and bring a bit of much-needed beauty to the world while you’re doing it.

These lovely pins are made by my friend Takara Gudell. If art is how you think, these pins say a lot. They have color—choose from purple, yellow, red, white, black and more. Clean lines. They look nothing like campaign buttons (which I used to collect back when I was a kid). Instead of small round discs, these are striking, lively, cut outs of the letters that spell out the word “vote.” To my taste, they’re bold, they’re beautiful and their message is about as All-American as it gets. My love for early Bakelite probably prejudices me towards the way they look. And my respect for Takara’s creative thinking and the beauty of her art, definitely biases me her way. But I do believe that they’re pretty amazing pieces, with a simple, colorful, engaging, easy to read, non-partisan, message. We have some in stock at the Roadhouse to sell, and I have a feeling they’re going to go fast.

Takara and I met at a conference I spoke at about 18 months ago. She bought all the books I’d written before she left, and we exchanged cards. We started emailing shortly thereafter. Two months later, Takara took to the road, driving up from Chicago to come visit Ann Arbor. Since then, we’ve shared stories, sadnesses, inspirations, ideas, articles, art, and aspirations. I put the story of the all too early passing of her brother, Kevin, into the piece I wrote about kindness a few months ago. These “Vote” pins are just one small piece of Takara’s art. Check out her clothing, jewelry, etc. at She, and her work, are amazing. Aside from her art, I’ve learned Takara also has a thing for marionettes, magic, good jazz, good food, meaningful connection, color, great design, interesting traditions, and exotic travel. And Octavia Butler. It’s no surprise, I see now, that we’ve been getting along so well! I’m particularly excited to be able to sell some of her work here in the ZCoB.

From all our conversations, I know that Takara has made her way through many obstacles to get to where she is. She has pushed through it all to become a model of positive creative energy towards which the rest of us—or at least, I—can aspire. I asked Takara why, in her already busy schedule of making art and jewelry, she carved out time to craft these new pins:

After watching the documentary called “All In: The Fight for Democracy” which is playing on Netflix. I’ve constantly gone through my mind about the previous election and how women have the power to support Hillary. I was ashamed to discover that WOMEN were uncomfortable with the idea of a female president. Made a choice not to vote. I believe that women have the power to change the outcome of the vote. It is imperative that ALL women vote! I’m also part of an initiative to get out the FEMALE VOTE! BUT we must REGISTER the VOTER!
In 1902, the year the Deli’s building was built, Carrie Chapman Catt founded the International Woman Suffrage Alliance to spread democracy around the globe. Takara’s pins would probably have been a big hit. As Takara says, “It’s time to pass along messages to our youth about the importance of connections, social issues, and the value of human life. The slightest gesture can last a lifetime and help to redefine the life they’re experiencing.” The VOTE pins I would say, do that well. With dignity, no dourness, no finger wagging, no judgement. Just bright lively color and a simple direct statement made with style that can communicate in ways that lectures—even from loved ones—never can. But if you want to remind others about it as you go on your way through the world over the next month or so, here’s an easy, artistic, colorful and creative way to send the message. The role of the artist, James Baldwin said, is “to make you realize the doom and glory of knowing who you are and what you are.” I’m guessing Takara can relate.

Takara’s birthday, I happen to know, is coming up on October 3. To honor her and the call to vote I'm going to buy a bunch of the pins and give them out as gifts. The pins alone can’t end the pandemic, racism, hunger or hatred. But they add a bit of meaningful beauty and a more positive message to the daily mix. As Maya Angelou said, “Continue to be who and how you are, to astonish a mean world with your acts of kindness.” And remember to vote!


Sandwich Tunisien

Enter autumn with the classic sandwich of Tunis


Imagine eating Muffulettas in New Orleans—a collection of great, local ingredients, vegetables, and series of spicy, tangy, condiments all squished together in a wonderful, overstuffed sandwich that’s sort of messy and really marvelous to eat. I have fond memories of eating many of them down in the Crescent City over the years. Transport yourself now, if you’re willing, 5500 miles or so to the east, to the city that could be called the capital of the southern Mediterranean coast. Tunis is terrific. If you do go, you’ll find the Sandwich Tunisien to be as marvelously ever-present as Muffulettas are back in New Orleans. Every sandwich shop sells one. Tunisians and tourists alike eat them in great quantities. Writing in Saveur, Jay Cheshes said, “It's the country's most beloved sandwich, and an incredibly satisfying two-handed lunch. If you go, you may see it listed also as Casse Croute Tunisien (casse croute being a sort of street slang for ‘snack’).” If you get out of the city, and drive to the small towns, you’ll likely see that the sandwich is eaten and enjoyed all over the country. Each lunch counter and each home cook makes her or his own alterations to fit with what food they have on hand or what’s in season. 

And for me, early autumn is a great time to make this sandwich. There are beautiful peppers at the market. The air is cooler, and the leaves are starting to change colors. If you’re in the mood for a new meal, one that’s not hard to make, and will be wholly memorable in its marvelousness, try a Sandwich Tunisien. You can vary the ingredients a bit to fit your own desires—the keys are the harissa, preserved lemons, tuna, and the addition of other good vegetables. The ingredient quality, as per my usual campaign, is the key. Start with a good-sized bit of the hand rolled French baguette, cut in half, or a Paesano roll (pictured). Brush it with some of the Mahjoub’s extra virgin olive oil, then a generous spread of the harissa. Lay on some tuna (the Ortiz tuna from Spain is always a good pick), then toss on other good stuff. Coarsely chopped preserved lemons. Capers. Chopped onion. Pitted olives. Pickled vegetables. Definitely roasted or pan-fried peppers. Hard boiled eggs are excellent and boiled potatoes are a great addition. I’ve made it once or twice with cooked white beans as well. Press it all together and eat up.

The bread is critical to the quality of the sandwich. I’ve known for nearly 40 years that one cannot make a great sandwich without wonderful bread. The Paesano rolls from the Bakehouse, are, for me, pretty much perfect for this sandwich. They hold a lot, they hold up. The crust across the top and the bottom gives structure to what would otherwise turn, all too quickly, to mush.

The other two critical ingredients are totally Tunisian! The harissa and the preserved lemons. In each case I’m a longtime and avid fan of what we get from the Mahjoub family. Their farm, about an hour west of Tunis, produces a wealth of wonderful offerings. This first key ingredient, their harissa, I’ve been in love with for nearly 20 years now and I never tire of it. Made from three different organic peppers and organic tomatoes grown in their farm, all dried first in the sun, the ground into a spicy succulent red paste along with the family’s extra virgin olive oil, capers, sun dried garlic, and spices. I’m referencing it here in regard to the sandwich, but the truth is you can put it on—or in—pretty much anything and get good results. If you like spice and you like savory, use it liberally. Majid Mahjoub says, “Tunisian cuisine is a particular style of poetic stories from our mothers. And these stories envelop each of us from birth to death. And so, the Spicy, was one of the foundations of the Tunisian cuisine, and harissa is its hero.”

The other ingredient is the Mahjoub’s preserved lemon. Citrus grows well in the Mediterranean and North Africans use it liberally. Someone long ago took to pickling and curing lemons in much the same way that olives were preserved. The Mahjoubs preserve organic lemons from their farm with salt and chiles for over half a year and end up with unique salty, sour, savory addition to pretty much anything. Chop and add to salads, sauces, pastas, rice dishes, roast chicken, or fish. In the sandwich, they bring a lovely liveliness that can’t be replicated by any other ingredient. And as Majid says, “The tuna goes incredibly well with harissa and preserved lemon.” I couldn’t agree more. The Sandwich Tunisien is quite simply a world class sandwich that I would suggest ought to get listed right there with Reubens, BLTs, Philly Cheese Steak, etc. A Sandwich Tunisien is terrific when it’s freshly made. But it’s good also a few hours out when the oil has soaked into the bread and the flavors have set up really well. Great for picnics, lunches, dinners, or snacks! 

Ship some Tunisian specialties to your sister in South Carolina?


Marvelous Mandelbread

Delicious traditional Jewish almond biscuits from the Bakehouse


Of all the dozens of delicious breads and pastries we make at the Bakehouse, it would be easy to miss mandelbread. When you can feast your eyes on 2 kilo loaves of Country Miche, beautiful chocolate Babkas, Magic Brownies, etc., it’s not hard to pass right by these little cookies. And yet, Amy Emberling and I both agree—the mandelbread are one of the most marvelous things we make. Maggie Bayless from ZingTrain told me the same thing 20 years ago when we were co-teaching in New Hampshire. The Bakehouse’s mandelbread may not be well known, but they are clearly wonderful. This time of year, with the Jewish holidays, I think of mandelbread all the more often—while they have no particular religious significance, they do have some sort of emotional connection for me to the cooking of my grandmother and a few of the foods of my Jewish childhood. While, granted, I’m biased, I really think that the ones from the Bakehouse are pretty amazing.

Mandelbread are very much out of the baking of my Eastern European grandparents’ generation. (I often think about some of the anarchists of European Jewish origin—Emma Goldman, Alexander Berkman, Gustav Landauer—sipping tea and nibbling on a bit of mandelbread. For more on the anarchists and their impact on my work, see Secret #43.5 from Part 4 of the Guide to Good Leading.) Hard to imagine today, but life in that part of the world, centuries ago, was entirely chocolate-less (chocolate wasn’t used for everyday eating until the late 19th century). Mandelbread might likely have been a modest but still marvelous little sweet to use for late afternoon tea, morning coffee, or after dinner with a sweet wine.

If you didn’t already know, "Mandel" means almonds in Yiddish, and these little “biscotti” are loaded—not laced, but literally loaded—with toasted almonds. Almonds for that part of the world were a step up and a bit of a special item. Mandelbread was probably to that Jewish generation what chocolate chip cookies are to American kids of say maybe the 60s—so common as to be almost unremarkable, yet so much a part of the culture and the everyday cooking as to be extremely comforting, grounding . . . a bit of stability in a world which feels ever more chaotic. 

Joan Nathan, friend and food writer, also suggests they might in fact have come from Italy:

“With a large Jewish population in Piedmont, Italy may have been the place where Jews first tasted biscotti and later brought them to Europe where they called them mandelbrot, which literally means almond bread. In the Ukraine, a similar cookie not necessarily with almonds but made at home, thuskamish, was served. In Italy they are often eaten as a dessert dipped into wine or grappa. In Eastern Europe Jews dipped them into a glass of tea, and because they include no butter and are easily kept they became a good Sabbath dessert.”
Like everything else from the Bakehouse, the ingredients list for these is impressive—sweet butter, fresh eggs, lots of fresh orange and lemon zest, and real vanilla. You can smell the citrus as soon as you break one open. No shortcuts taken here—these are mandelbread made the old fashioned way: long “loaves” are baked once, then sliced and re-baked cut side down, then flipped over and re-baked again. This thrice-baked technique, combined with the great ingredients, leaves them at least three times as flavorful as any mandelbread I’ve ever had (and about 35 times more than most of those bland overly sweet biscotti that almost every café in the country used to sell). The vanilla hits me first, and the other flavors come up really nicely—almonds, a bit of the citrus in the background, not at all too sweet. Sort of crunchy (but not in the dry, powdery way that a lot of biscotti can be). Very clean finish, so much so that seriously one bite is enough to get me through an afternoon. Great on their own of course, but you can also crumble mandelbread atop gelato or rice pudding.
Send Mandelbread

Other Things On My Mind

Last week was the 28th anniversary of the Bakehouse and the 17th anniversary of the Roadhouse. Which reminds me to remind you—looking for a great gift for a baker you love? Check out these virtual baking classes, like Coffee Cake Craft or Pie BAKE!-cation®

I recently wrote about the McCrea’s marvelous caramels and how they were in Hyde Park, Mass.—which was home of the 2nd Black Regiment in the Civil War. Here’s more about the men who fought, and their story as shown in the film Glory.

If you like Nick Drake and others of his ilk, check out the work of Dandelion Stiff, recorded in Molly Stevens’ hometown of Buffalo, New York.

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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