It’s weird to be writing here, I’m not going to lie to all of you.

Here’s a quick update from our corner of Appalachia: power, WiFi, and cell service are back at our house. Running water has returned too, though it’s still under a boil advisory. We’ve installed a shower filter so we can confidently bathe at home, and we use the high-temperature setting every time we wash dishes. Flushing toilets? It’s back, baby.

But the situation in the kitchen is still complicated. We don’t feel comfortable drinking the tap water, even after boiling it for the recommended minute, so we’ve been fetching potable water from community centers and friends with wells at least once a week. Right now, we have a 6-gallon container (thanks to our kind neighbors) set up over the sink for handwashing, brushing teeth, quick rinses, and water for the cats. On the other side of the sink, there’s a separate 2.5-gallon container we use for coffee and cooking.

It’s a lot to manage, and the kitchen feels cluttered. Although we can safely use the dishwasher, we’re choosing to conserve water and continue with paper plates, bowls, and plastic cutlery. Between the jugs of water and the ancient plates that proudly boast “Michelle and Craig’s Engagement Party” (we got married in 2016, for reference) stacked on the counter, the kitchen hasn’t felt like a comfortable or safe space for me over the past month.

My appetite has been an uphill battle. Most meals, nothing sounds good. A dear friend brought over some comforting frozen food in the early days of recovery, and it was a relief to just open the freezer and enjoy a corndog. But it’s not sustainable to eat that way, and my energy and mood reflected it. So, I’m slowly easing back into cooking full meals once or twice a week, basically whenever the mood strikes. There’s also a lot of encouragement to support our recently reopened restaurants, so we’ve been trying to balance home-cooked meals with eating out.

Despite this, I still find myself feeding people, in one way or another, almost every day. A large part of my volunteer work has been centered around cooking, serving, and helping people access food. Whether in the parking lot of an Episcopalian church in Hendersonville or the aisles of the Ingles distribution center in Black Mountain, I’m constantly surrounded by cans, boxes, casserole dishes, and portable heaters full of food. It has truly been an honor to serve my community this way. I’ve seen grown adults light up over canned Vienna sausages, made pounds of chicken enchiladas, sent homemade latkes to the volunteer hub in Marshall, and comforted mothers moved to tears at the sight of boxed spaghetti for their children.

While food has brought me a sense of peace and solidarity with others, I haven’t had much interest in it for myself over the past month.

Did I mention…things are really, really weird?

I don’t quite have the words to express how different I feel these days. I’ll simply say what many of you have heard me say before: I’m not the same person I was a month ago. Turning on my phone after three days of silence to find 180 messages from friends and family asking if I was alive—that changes you. Not knowing the devastation to your city until after the world has already seen it—that changes you. A non-stop loop of fear, anger, hope, confusion, and gratitude—that changes you. The survivor’s guilt. The uncertainty. The mourning.

So, why share a recipe now?

My paternal family group chat is always active. It includes me, my little sister, our parents, our grandmother, and my aunt (my dad’s sister). This is the Appalachian side of my family, so we’re often sharing pictures of wildlife, stunning sunsets from our region, memories of growing up here, aligned politics, and—of course—lots of conversations about food. Before the hurricane, my sister and I would regularly post pictures of the meals we’d cooked at home, much to the encouragement of our family. After the storm, there wasn’t much to share or post about what we were eating. But something interesting happened yesterday.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I craved something.

Potato chowder.

I got to work and created a recipe I’m proud to share—not just with my family, but with all of you. It felt like a jolt of adrenaline to make something that truly satisfied my need for comfort food. It felt like…a breath of hope. A hug from my ancestors (both Jewish and Appalachian traditions hold potatoes close to the heart and diet). A reminder that yes, I am different now. I won’t be the same. But my joy is valid. My craving for life, for flavor, and for making Ashkelachian something deeply connected to the culture and energy of this region feels important, valuable—maybe even essential, at least for my own mental health and happiness.

There’s so much more to say in the coming weeks as I unpack the grief and promise of what Helene left behind. But for now, I invite you to make some chowder, cozy up with a seasonal movie, and enjoy.

Potato & Shrimp Corn Chowder

Serves 4-6, depending on serving size

Ingredients:

• 2 tbsp butter or olive oil (for sautéing)
• 1 small onion, finely chopped
• 2-3 cloves garlic, minced
• 4 medium potatoes, peeled & diced
• ½ cup frozen corn
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1 Tbsp paprika
• ½ Tbsp dried parsley
• 2-3 Tbsp Seafood Magic blend (or to taste) (could sub for another spice blend you love)
• 1 bay leaf
• 3 cups vegetable stock
• ¼ cup half and half
• ¼ cup heavy cream
• 1 lb shrimp (I used frozen and that is what the recipe reflects, fresh would be great too)
• Toasted and crumbled Hawaiian rolls, shredded sharp cheddar cheese, crispy bacon, and/or sliced green onion (suggested for toppings)

Steps:

1. Sauté Aromatics: In a large pot, melt the butter or heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the chopped onion and cook until soft, about 3-4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for another minute until fragrant.

2. Add Potatoes and Corn: Add diced potatoes and frozen corn to the pot. Season with salt, pepper, paprika, dried parsley, and Seafood Magic blend. Stir well.

3. Build the Soup Base: Pour in the vegetable stock and bring to a gentle boil. Reduce heat and let simmer for about 15 minutes, or until potatoes are tender.

4. Blend It Up: Remove the bay leaf. Using an immersion blender, gently blend the ingredients until smooth. Bring to a simmer.

5. Add Dairy and Shrimp: Add the half-and-half, heavy cream, and frozen shrimp to the pot, and continue simmering for about 15 minutes, or until the shrimp are cooked through.

6. Garnish and Serve: Taste and adjust seasoning as desired. Ladle the chowder into bowls, then top with toasted and crumbled Hawaiian roll pieces and a sprinkle of shredded sharp cheddar cheese (and some bacon if you love yourself).

Mazel, bbs. 💋