Ari's Top 5
Let us praise the grace and risk of fire.

—John O’Donohue
Black and white photo of a piece of wood on fire

Honoring Anger in the Organizational Ecosystem

Learning to work constructively with fire

There are some subjects that I opt to write about for publication because I’ve learned a lot about them over the years, and I want to share those lessons so others can benefit from them as well. There are other areas of study, though, that I engage in for a different reason—I take them on because they are parts of my life in which I have yet to develop the ability to lead and live as I would like to. I know a bit, but I’m well aware that I have much to learn in the interest of more effectively making my way in the world. With these sorts of subjects, I’ve tried to train myself to breathe into my discomfort and push past the procrastination that I referenced last week, by putting my thoughts and learnings down on paper. I know myself well enough to know that by going public, my leadership skills will grow in the process. The awkward subject at hand this week is anger. It’s become increasingly clear to me through the years that understanding and managing anger effectively is an essential skill for me, and for any caring leader, to engage in. Although as a young boy I learned mostly how to hide it, I’ve come to understand that managing anger well—recognizing it, learning to avoid overreacting, finding ways to use it to bring about positive and healthy outcomes—is a critical, if rarely taught, leadership skill.

Anger, uncomfortable as it feels for me to address it, is just as important as learning about compassion, grief, and dignity. In fact, if we want to create the kind of loving organizational ecosystems I wrote about last week, we need to fully embrace our anger as well. As per the title of Lama Rod Owens’ highly recommended new book, Love and Rage, the two are inextricably bound. As Osho once said, “There are no watertight compartments between anger and love; they are all together, mixed with each other.” Handled well, anger can lead us towards all sorts of positive, engaged, and even exhilarating outcomes that can benefit our companies and our communities. Managed poorly, anger can kill the kinds of confidence, collaboration, and creativity that love nurtures. All of which helped me understand that if I want to lead in a loving way, I need to learn to love anger as much as I do food, cooking, art, and anarchism.

Certainly, anger is a natural human emotion that everyone experiences; the question here is how we handle it. While anger management is not likely the top agenda item in any of our manager’s meetings, it is, nevertheless, probably present every time we come together. Even if it’s lurking quietly below the surface, anger can still flare up, often with little advance warning, and, if it’s not managed well, quickly take down even the healthiest group’s dynamic. I don’t know too many people who are consistently adept at handling it; nearly everyone I know struggles at times. Some of us deny it, hiding it even from ourselves. We bury it deep and try to pretend it doesn’t exist. When anger comes on, we take cover. I learned long ago, as a kid, to hide my anger, or retreat quickly into being quiet. Instead of shouting, people like me shut down. Along with the grief I wrote about a few weeks ago over the death of my father—who I hadn’t seen since I was seven—there was also plenty of anger I’d unconsciously held onto around that abandonment.

Conversely, some people I know and love run “hot”—when they get angry, they act quickly, saying things they often later wish they hadn’t said, or make decisions in the moment that they may well regret the following Monday. As the heat of anger rises, they feel compelled to react. For them, the challenge is often learning to pause, own the anger, loosen its grip by finding a way to move—physically and/or emotionally—away from it enough to be able to make more grounded and intentional decisions. Since Natural Law #11 says that “Strengths lead to weaknesses,” it makes sense that while either end of that continuum can sometimes be helpful, other times, it can cause great harm. Those who act quickly on their anger may benefit by not being burdened, but may in the process cause harm to others around them. Folks more on my end of the anger management continuum can “stay cool under pressure,” working through pretty huge amounts of pressure without showing signs of stress. The downside though is that if we don’t learn to access the unexpressed anger, important issues may go unaddressed; the suffering happens quietly in our brains and bodies.

Phil Jackson, former coach of the NBA Bulls and Lakers, writes, “Trying to eliminate anger never works. The more you try to suppress it, the more likely it is to erupt later in a more virulent form.” It’s not easy for me to acknowledge the accuracy of Jackson’s comment, but, in my own case at least, I know it’s correct. Staying calm and “level-headed” as I long ago learned to do is a great strength. At the same time, I’ve learned the hard way that if I don’t eventually acknowledge and own the quiet anger I can carry beneath the surface, my tension will slowly, and surely, spill out into side-comments, sideways glances, or with negative impact on my home life or health. Jackson, you may know, is a long-time practitioner of Buddhism (his book Sacred Hoops was super helpful for me years ago), so he might in part have learned this approach from the Buddha, who said, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”

I’ll write more next week about some of the techniques and approaches that I’ve learned in my months of studying and years of struggling. At the moment, I’ll share that the most productive path for most people seems to be somewhere in the middle—to manage our anger in the awkward “space between stimulus and response,” that Viktor Frankl so wisely wrote about half a century ago. To feel the anger as it arises, own it, honor it, then take pause and get grounded before we act with positive intention to address the issues at hand; to learn to use anger as a learning tool, a push to connect caringly, initiate needed change, to gently and productively right wrongs. And then after all that, to take a few deep breaths and let go of the feeling so we can move forward. Mastering that skill is certainly easier said than done, but when we do, I believe, we will lead more effectively, reduce organizational pain, increase joy, and bring more love into the lives of our colleagues and customers.

There are hundreds of great resources that offer effective deep dives into the psychological issues of anger and the impact it has on our bodies and minds. I’ve learned a great deal from Karla McLaren, Daniel Goleman, Ruth King, Tara Brach, Harriet Lerner, Lama Rod Owens, Chris Conte, and countless others who have contributed so much to the field of mindful anger management. What’s important to me here is understanding the practical application of that learning; trying to figure out how to translate intellectual understanding into a day-to-day reality that I can work with. It’s about turning anger into a natural element in our organizational ecosystems. It’s about helping all of us to embrace the role that anger plays in our daily lives, and then to find ways to teach more effective self-management techniques to everyone we hire. We can take anger out of the category of “taboo,” and turn it, instead, into something we can all recognize, honor, and acknowledge; making anger management, like mindfulness, into a creative way to make our work lives more meaningful and more rewarding.

One of the things I so appreciate about the organizational ecosystem model is that it’s helping me to integrate important life matters like love, grief, hope, and beliefs into my understanding of how we work. While none of these appear as line items on financial statements, they are very much a part of our organizational health. Rather than leaving them off to the side as they most commonly would be in nearly every other business model, the ecosystem metaphor makes it much easier for me to honor them as the important elements of our existence that they clearly are. With all that in mind, I spent time last spring considering where anger would best appear in our ecosystems. As I wrote a few months ago, emotions, I equated to the weather—we have no influence over when and where they come, but there’s a lot we can do about managing the way we respond. Like the weather, emotions come and go; sometimes fronts move through quickly; other times they linger for a long stretch of time, often much longer than we’d like. Although anger is also an emotion, I’m going to mix the metaphor … and suggest that anger in our organizational ecosystems might be more akin to fire. This understanding came to me while reading Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer’s wonderful book, Braiding Sweetgrass. In it she shares:

The land gives us so many gifts; fire is a way we can give back. In modern times, the public thinks fire is only destructive, but they’ve forgotten, or simply never knew, how people used fire as a creative force. The fire stick was like a paintbrush on the landscape. Touch it here in a small dab and you’ve made a green meadow for elk; a light scatter there burns off the brush so the oaks make more acorns. Stipple it under the canopy and it thins the stand to prevent catastrophic fire. Draw the firebrush along the creek and the next spring it’s a thick stand of yellow willows. A wash over a grassy meadow turns it blue with camas. To make blueberries, let the paint dry for a few years and repeat. Our people were given the responsibility to use fire to make things beautiful and productive—it was our art and our science.

Kimmerer gave me food for thought. As a kid, both anger and fire were dangerous subjects. I grew up in Chicago where fire was generally portrayed as the villain in the famous Chicago Fire of 1871, or at times on signs of Smokey the Bear, who warned us gravely, “Only you can prevent forest fires!” At home, fire came up mostly in the warning every five-year-old probably hears, to be careful around the stove so we don’t burn ourselves. Fire, we learned, was to be avoided pretty much at all costs. Kimmerer’s writing completely flipped my city-kid scripts—suddenly it came clear that fire wasn’t inherently evil; to the contrary, in nature, the effective use of fire has an important and creative upside. Regular and mindful use of fire, the way Kimmerer writes about it, is something to be encouraged, not avoided. Fire, in this sense, enhances creative energy in the ecosystem. When humans artificially prevent all fires, then when they do happen, they will likely rage out of control. Instead of fire poetically painting the landscape the way Kimmerer describes it, we get the California wildfires of the last few years. It’s much the same with anger. When we suppress it for too long, we are bound to struggle. Denial in the near term will later lead to overwhelming explosions; huge “blazes,” in which almost everyone will suffer. “Flammable” material is stored up and we end up with a delayed over-reaction—when the fire comes, unplanned, in full force, it takes out everything in its path. Its power is indiscriminate. The good news is that we can do better. Well used, both anger and fire can be creative and important contributors to ecosystem health. A little fire in the fireplace, I can see, keeps us warm and lets us cook; too much fire, badly managed, will burn the house down.

Many others have of course made this connection of anger with fire. John O’Donohue, in The Four Elements, says:

Fire is often used to portray anger. Anger burns and blazes. It inflames the human heart. But it can also be a subtle presence. It can turn totally inward and become depression. It can also hide under several guises. However, unlike resentment, which points to death, anger points to life. For oppressed people, or for oppressed dimensions within the individual life, the awakening and release of anger can be powerfully liberating. Anger is powerful because it has an immediacy, innocence and action in it.

O’Donohue comes to much the same conclusion as Jackson: “Part of the wisdom of living a creative and healing life is to learn the art of using this inner fire well.” With that in mind, some of my earliest epiphanies about anger came thirty years or so ago reading Harriet Lerner’s amazing book The Dance of Anger. I read it at Maggie Bayless’ (from ZingTrain) recommendation. All these years later, I can’t recommend it highly enough. The subtitle—A Woman’s Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships—could easily have led me to steer clear, but I’m so glad I didn’t. This statement was one of my key takeaways:

Anger is neither positive nor negative. Anger simply is. It’s an important emotion that deserves our attention and respect. But most of us have little experience using our anger as a vehicle for positive change. Instead we silence our anger, or vent it in a way that leaves us feeling helpless and powerless.

While Lerner was writing for women, that statement spoke loud and clear to me. It’s a behavior, learned since childhood, that I will now likely be working to rebalance for the rest of my life. Karla McLaren’s work on emotions is also exceptionally helpful—check out her new book, The Power of Emotion at Work. “Anger,” McLaren writes, “can be the most honorable emotion you have, if you know what it is, why it appears, and how to work with it.”

When we learn to use anger well, difficult issues in the organization can be raised and, many times, resolved. It can clear the underbrush of every tension before something bigger explodes and gets crazy “out of control.” As McLaren says:

Anger is also connected with justice; not only for yourself, but for others as well. Your anger can be evoked when you see someone being stripped of their sense of self, their rights, or their position. Anger is a very social emotion; if you can understand its nuances and subtleties, it can help you become an effective and healthy voice for social justice.

With the idea of fire being anger in the ecosystem, I’ve got new framing for the common saying, “You’re playing with fire.” Used indiscriminately it’s destructive; but avoiding it at all costs—full denial—is just as unhelpful, since it puts off problems and later leads to violent explosions. And in both nature and relationships it can take a long, long time to repair the damage. Used well, on the other hand, it’s hugely helpful, in fact, it’s essential to healthy living. Both fire and anger are important parts of nature’s work, but both are best used purposefully. Put to work mindlessly, in a rage, anger/fire will usually destroy everything in its path.

In fact, as in life, suppressed or ineffectively perpetually put off, anger can later lead to big unwanted conflagrations. I know I’ve certainly struggled in my own work and life to learn to let anger out regularly in small, timely ways, but I know now that doing so is hugely helpful. When we push anger away, we suffer. As McLaren makes clear:

Anger contains a great deal of focused, protective energy, and when you don’t have enough of it, you may struggle to set boundaries and protect yourself in relationships (or to protect the rights and dignity of others). Without your healthy anger, you can lose your vitality and your capacity to react and respond in resilient ways.

I’ve spent a lot of time over the years—through journaling, therapy, talking to close friends—trying to honor my anger and learn to use it more effectively. Acknowledging it regularly, learning to talk about it openly without attacking, learning to learn from it, befriend it and benefit from it. Conversely, I’ve tried to coach colleagues who tend to act impulsively on their anger to learn to slow down and do some productive reflection before they do anything else. Honoring our anger helps us learn, unleashes creativity, and increases the odds of making meaningful connections. With all this in mind, I have taken to heart the lesson that Lama Rod Owens shares: “I have had to learn,” he says, “to love my anger, to treat it as I would treat anyone or anything that I consider precious and beautiful.”

Next week I’ll share more learnings I’ve had about anger, as well as a series of approaches and techniques that I’ve tried—and am still trying—to put into practice. I know, as I said above, that I have much still to learn on the subject, and many months and years of practice while I try to master the craft. For the moment, I’ll close with this bit of metaphorically-pointed poetry from John O’Donohue:

As short as the time
From Spark to Flame,
So brief may the distance be
Between heart and being.

May we discover
Beneath our fear
Embers of anger
To kindle justice.

May courage
Cause our lives to flame,
In the name of the Fire,
And the flame
And the Light.

Manage the fire within
For a whole lot more on issues of self-management, see Zingerman’s Guide to Good Leading, Part 3: Managing Ourselves, or the single stand alone pamphlet, Secret #31, “Managing Ourselves.”
Red coffee berries with a sign that says "Our Plot of Daterra, a sustainable dream" sit in a round tray, on the ground, in a coffee farm.

Daterra Coffee from the Zingerman’s Coffee Plot

Years of collaboration come to flavorful fruition!

This coffee is one of the most exciting new things to happen here in the ZCoB in a long time! We’ve been working with the folks at Daterra Coffee in Brazil for nearly twenty years now. They do terrific work on every level—exceptionally high-quality coffee, a caring workplace, community commitment, and an insistence on working to restore health to the ecosystem. It’s an honor to work with them, and a wonderful thing to be able to bring you the gift of their great coffee. If you’ve been around the Zingerman’s Community and you drink coffee, you might well have tried their Espresso Blend #1—either as a shot of espresso, in a cappuccino, mocha, or café latte—Brazilian Sweet Yellow, or Brazilian Peaberry. Daterra brings alive the anarchist belief (which I hold close to my own heart) that the means we use to attain our end goals must be congruent with what we are trying to achieve. Quality, care, dignity, and respect are woven into every aspect of their work. And it shows in the coffee we sip so regularly!

Five years ago, we began work with Daterra on a piece of land on their farm in Brazil with coffee plants grown specifically as part of a “Zingerman’s plot.” It’s taken years for the fruit to be ready, and now, I’m happy to share the good news: It is! Our first real shipment of green beans arrived and we’ve begun roasting so that you (and I) can come by and sip this super tasty coffee. I had the chance to sample a taste from the small advance sample batches and it is indeed seriously good stuff! Steve Mangigian, managing partner at the Coffee Company, who’s shepherded this project from the start, says, “After patiently waiting for five years for our plot to develop—with no certainty promised regarding its success—it’s wildly exciting to see such great results early on.”

I agree! Both the concept and the quality of the coffee are exceptional. The fact that it comes from our own small plot is a nice thing, but what’s making the coffee so special is the unusual care and incredible attention to detail by the Daterra crew, and that they’re working with us to experiment with some wonderful techniques. For this coffee, the cherries are allowed to dry on the vine—picking comes only after the coffee fruit has dried, so that sugars and flavors are exceptionally concentrated.

When it comes right down to it, pretty much everything about this coffee is remarkable. The beans are an unusual Pacamara variety—very large in size, superb in flavor, and amazing in aroma, they bring a lovely clean finish to the coffee! The varietal was developed back in the 1950s in El Salvador and began to be shared with the world’s coffee growers in the mid-80s, not long after we opened the Deli. “Perfect Daily Grind” writes:

The Pacamara varietal is unique. If people aren’t talking about its outstanding flavour and cup attributes, they’re talking about its distinctive size. Pacamaras usually have complex and intense aromas; medium to dense bodies with creamy textures; and elegant acidity with flavors that swing from sweet notes of chocolate and butterscotch to fruitier undertones that remind me of citrus, red berries, and stone fruits.

You really can taste the difference! The brewed coffee (Steve made it for me in a press pot), is light and elegant, very cocoa-y, and wonderfully fruity. It has a bit of the fruitiness that makes the best Ethiopian coffees so unique, and some of that chocolatiness that goes with a good Guatemala. A very special coffee in limited supply! Don’t dally—come by soon and sip some of this limited edition offering!

The Coffee Company has this Zingerman’s-plot Pacamara coffee on sale in 2-ounce bags, and you can also order it there by the cup in one of our “hand-brew” methods. I had some last week as a syphon and then again as a Clever. Both were terrific—smooth, nutty, gentle. You can also grab a taste by signing up for one of the two Best of 2021 tastings I’m doing at the Deli this month. There are still a few seats open for each and this coffee is on the list!

The virtual tasting on Zoom is Thursday, December 9, 6:30–8:00pm. The In-Person Event is Wednesday, December 15, 6:30–8:00pm at the Deli.

Sign up for the virtual tasting
Slices of babka exposing the cinnamon and nut swirl inside.

Bakehouse Chocolate Raisin Babka

Lots of dark chocolate, Red Flame raisins, and a splash of cinnamon in a traditional Jewish sweet bread

I’m going to stick my neck out here and say that along with the Bakehouse’s Classic Cheesecake, the Chocolate Raisin Babka is one of the best tasting things we bake! If you try it, you’ll be back, relatively soon thereafter, for another one! It’s available every day during December. It’s a great gift as well as a marvelous way to start a day or end a meal. And, I’ll add, with Chanukah running the rest of this week (through Monday), everyone can use another good excuse to eat a Jewish dessert, right?

If you’re not familiar with it, babka is a traditional Jewish “sweet bread,” akin to a light-textured coffee cake, or maybe a tad denser piece of Italian panettone. It starts with a rich, slow-rise brioche dough made with lots of butter, real vanilla, and fresh egg yolks. That in turn is painted with dark chocolate, sprinkled with chocolate crumble and orange-syrup-soaked raisins—all of which get formed into a fine-looking loaf, and then baked off to a golden brown with a fragrant cinnamon-sugar crust. To say that people love this stuff would be an understatement. It’s already got a LOT of loyal fans, and it seems to be gaining more momentum all the time. Writing in The Nosher last year, Joanna O’Leary described it as, “Part bread, part cake, and totally delicious: babka is among the most iconic Jewish sweets and a common fixture at the dessert table of religious celebrations.”

Babka’s history? It likely has its roots somewhere in Eastern Europe. One theory says it’s indigenous to Ukraine, part of an ancient fertility symbol used in the matriarchal system once in place in the region; the original name was likely “baba,” meaning “grandmother”; with the “modern era’s” smaller sizes, the name shifted to the diminutive, “babka,” meaning “little grandmother.” Historian and food writer Lesley Chamberlain believes babka came up from Italy, brought by Queen Bona in the 16th century, and developed over the centuries into what some would then say is a Russified version of the typical Italian panettone. In either case, the old forms of the babka were likely much larger, somewhere from the size of a modern day panetonne on up to some a few feet high. Historian Gil Marks believes its roots go back to the early 19th century—Jewish housewives would put some jam and nuts into leftover challah dough. The chocolate is most certainly a 20th century American addition, since it wouldn’t have been used in this way up until modern times.

Susana Trilling, author of the excellent cookbook, Seasons of the Heart, and creator and cooking teacher extraordinaire of the Oaxacan cooking school, and maker of those terrific chile jams I wrote about a while back, told me, “… bar none, Zingerman’s Bakehouse makes the BEST Babka I have ever eaten!! It was incredible.”

The crew at the Bakeshop have smartly taken to selling the Chocolate Raisin Babka by the slice so you can grab a bite on your way over to the Coffee Company or to take home for a small snack. If you’re eating alone, try warming a single slice of babka in the oven for a few minutes, then enjoy it with a cup of strong coffee—the 2021 Holiday Blend that’s out at the Coffee Company, Deli, and Roadhouse is a great match (try it as an espresso if you’re at the Coffee Company).

Order babka today from the Bakehouse
Ship this great babka to someone you love
Jar of light yellow dijon mustard with a red labeling band around the middle.

Domaine de Terre Rouge Dijon Mustard at the Deli

A swirl of complex flavors in a lovely jar of smooth stone ground mustard

We’ve been getting the wonderful mustards from the folks at Domaine Terre Rouge in France for I think two decades now. The Cognac, Mushroom, Absinthe, and the purple-hued, coarse-grained Violet mustard are all amazing, as is my long time favorite, the Walnut Mustard—I wrote about a potato dish I’ve been doing with it last month. The big news for mustard lovers though is that, for the first time, we’re now getting their straight, unadulterated, unflavored, Dijon mustard! If you’re a mustard lover like I am, come check it out. Like all their mustards, the Dijon is above anything else I’ve tried in the same category. A wonderful return to the flavor of traditional French mustard from centuries past! It’s so fresh, so intense, that it’s palate-awakening and markedly memorable. I gave Tammie a taste when it first came in and she just kept saying, “Wow!” over and over again. It’s a wonderful culinary wakeup call!

The Domaine de Terre Rouge was founded in Corrèze in the Dordogne region of France, all the way back in 1990. (The town is notable too as the home of the dynamic Rabbi David Feuerwerker, professor of Jewish history who became active in the resistance to the Nazis during WWII.) The company was created by artisan distillers, in part, as a way to use their liqueurs—their absinthe mustard is appropriately amazing. In 2015, the company moved to the northwest of France and merged with a family-owned condiment firm, called Alelor, that was founded in 1873. They work with ten farmers in the area to grow their mustard seed locally, and all the mustard seed is stone-milled.

You can do anything with the Domaine de Terre Rouge Dijon you’d do with other mustards. Sandwiches, sausage, salamis, and pâtés are all good matches. Great in vinaigrette—if I’m in a hurry, sometimes I just add a spoonful of the mustard right onto the salad. It’s super fine for a roast beef sandwich. More out of the mainstream, I like it a lot in scrambled eggs—I mix the mustard right into the eggs, then drop in some of the Roadhouse’s pulled pork in as well, and gently stir the mixture while the eggs cook. (Chopped ham, cooked chicken, or turkey would work well too.) It’s remarkably good with French fries! Add a little to a cream sauce for fish, shrimp, or steak.

You won’t see the Domaine de Terre Rouge Dijon on the Mail Order site but if you want to try it, drop us an email at and we’ll gladly get some shipped to you!

Order your Mustard from the Deli
Close-up of chopped radishes with crumbled feta and chopped dill

A Lovely Late Autumn Radish and Dill Salad

Another easy to assemble dish as we enter December

The other evening Tammie brought home a whole bunch of what just might be her last crop of the season: bushels full of beautiful heirloom radishes. Happily, she’s not the only farmer who’s still harvesting them right now—you can find a lot of nice local ones at the Farmers Market or at Argus Farmstop. The radishes were so beautiful, it was hard to turn them down.

For the radish salad, I cut them into half-inch or so, bite-sized pieces. (As a side note, I braised the radish greens with olive oil, sea salt, and some water until they were tender.) Sprinkle the radishes with sea salt and toss well. Add a bunch of chopped fresh dill—a good-sized handful for a radish salad for two. Crumble on some artisan feta (the sheep milk feta we have at the Cream Top Shop from the island of Lesbos or the blend of sheep and goat Mt. Vikos feta from the north that we have at the Deli—both are barrel-aged, and both are delicious). Add some coarsely chopped toasted almonds. Sprinkle on a small splash of good wine vinegar, some freshly ground black pepper, and some extra virgin olive oil. Toss, eat, and enjoy. The crunch of the radishes, the creaminess of the feta, the toastiness of the almonds, and the fresh floral flavors of the dill make for a great combo! The salad was so refreshing and so tasty that I actually made it three times in two days!

Add feta from the Cream Top Shop to your salad

Other Things on My Mind


IR 60 Indigenous and Black WisDub: A Soundbook and Soundtrack For Critical And Creative Resistance by Ebilotoh and Dubzaine. I have my print copy on order and already have the PDF downloaded from buying the album. It references a wide range of fascinating thinkers, many of whom I wasn’t familiar with. It also shares the little-told history about 19th century movement in West Africa to abolish slavery, as well as royalty, long before the abolitionism gained momentum in Europe.


Reading the Wisdub book reminded me about this great album I stumbled on years ago with great music and conversation. It’s an acoustic recording of Peter Tosh, who was in the Wailers with Bob Marley years ago. Tosh was murdered on September 11, 1987.

James P Honey—maybe a mix of Vic Chestnut, old Will Oldham, and Phil Elverum of Mount Eerie. Stark and soul-searchingly good.

Singer Bria Salmena and multi-instrumentalist Duncan Hay Jennings put together six amazing covers as a way to work through the pandemic while on a farm north of here in Ontario. Haunting versions of Karen Dalton, John Cale, Lucinda Williams, Waylon Jennings, and more.

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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