Warm in the Wind: Produce Parties

On Tuesday night, I attended a birthday party for apples. It was a magazine launch (issue 4: Apple) and potluck, a Produce Party. It was one of the loveliest events I’ve been to in awhile. 

I moved to New York just over 2 years ago. I knew about one person moving here and am grateful to my first roommates for including me in their friend-groups. I have been lucky to not experience the loneliness so many long-term New Yorkers have asked me about. I won’t say making friends out here hasn't taken some navigating, but I’ve always been someone who enjoys being on my own. I like going to readings, art museums, long walks, and many other events on my own. Some of my closest friends I’ve met out exploring by myself and sometimes, that’s what I want to do even if a friend is available. 

The Apple Party was one of the first events I’ve been to in a few months, aside from gatherings with friends, where I’ve known more than one or two people at the event. I am happy to have a little group to attend the event with: a new friend who has a short story in the magazine, her partner– who I am looking forward to getting to know, and our food photographer friend, who has a way of putting me at ease. 

The venue was inside the Brooklyn Navy yard, an area I hadn’t yet explored. I was proud of myself for wandering through the wind, following the provided entry directions and instructions, and finding what I thought was the right building. As I wandered through the Navy Market looking for the noted elevator, I saw another woman at the help desk holding a Le Creuset style baking dish. She moved away from the desk and I trotted to catch up with her, asking if she’d been given directions. She had and we were both in the wrong building. 

We started to walk out together, heading in the correct direction. But my pass to exit the wrong location wasn’t scanning. As I adjusted the angle, height, and brightness of my phone, my brain whispered to tell this kind new stranger to go on. I held my tongue and she stayed, generously advising me on potential ways to scan out and escape. 

Once I’d finally managed to pass the turnstile, we walked on together, chatting through the usually boring small talk energetically. Neither of us had ever been to one of these events. We were both worried about being late, otherwise any nervousness seemed to stem only from excitement. It was nice to walk in with another, but had I been nervous to walk in alone– this would have been a lovely room to walk into. 

The room was buzzing. It was warm, not too hot, with space for lingering in corners or amongst the crowd. 200 people milled around a glorious banquet table adorned with fall foliage, sculptural apple displays, and dishes along brown butcher paper. 

When my new friend, Emily, and I walk in, I hug and introduce her to my friend Molly. Molly volunteered for the setup of the Apple Party, and their small team of staff and volunteers did an impeccable job. This week, Molly wrote about bravery in her Substack. How being alone can be a safety net and it is opening up that takes real bravery. 

“Alone. Alone. Alone. It’s with others that’s scary. Talking to the guy. Telling people what I want. Allowing myself to be seen. “Putting myself out there.” Expressing my needs. Being visible. Again and again and again. Alone, there’s peace.” Molly’s words make me wonder if that feeling of safety is what I enjoy so much, not simply the freedom of being on one’s own. 

At the Apple party, I am brave. Not just with my new friend, the one with the story, with Molly, or the smattering of colleagues I find myself seeing around the room, but with all the potential new friends that are here. It is an easy room to be brave in and I can feel that we all sense it. There is a warmth, an excitement. When Sarah, “Produce Mama”, forces us all to make eye contact with strangers around the room there are giggles and nervous smiles, but we are happy to do it. I make eye contact with a friend I already know, then share a smile that reaches my eyes with a blonde I’ve never met. 

My friend whose story is in the magazine, Lauren, has made a beautiful rose tart for the evening. My salad feels limp in comparison to the glorious spread. There is a cake shaped like a pig, a tiered one with fake grass representing the forbidden fruit, apple dumplings, Waldorf salad, cardamom bread with apple (made by a lovely human I meet named Ana), and pies galore. Two women find Lauren (admitting to internet-stalking her) to compliment her rose-shaped apple tart. It tastes as good as it looks. 

The complimenters kindness gives me the confidence to approach a woman across the room. I am 90% sure it is a writer I’d been impressed by at a reading in a much darker room a few weeks prior. I say something goofy and cheeky in reference to the piece she read and it is, in fact, her. She’s with a friend, another writer, who has a piece in the magazine and is just as kind and lovely too. I tell her I’m having all the writers I’ve found in the room sign their pieces and she signs page 46– us non-celebrity-loving types giggling to ourselves but enjoying the sweetness. Our small-talk turns into real conversation and I realize they aren’t just Writers™, they too are potential friends. We talk about inspiration, the perfect workshop group blend, and they recommend another reading series. We exchange Instagram’s, laughing at our mutual inability to stay off of social media.

As I depart, I savor the warmth of the room. Of those in it. Hugging the people I knew before and the ones I’ve just met. I delight in the magazine on my way home; its design, the stories, the recipe whose serving size is “a crowd” and let the night simmer in my stomach. At a time, in a city, where loneliness claims to reign, perhaps our own bravery is part of the cure, helped along by a perfectly lovely evening– a group of people, all of us brave. 

I feel like an apple tart, left in the oven a tad too long: warm, and crisp, not over done. 

Shouts out to all the creatives who made this night so warm:

The Produce Parties Team- killed it, low-key, high-key, no notes.

Molly- read her impeccable vibey Substack for the sexiest suit and interiors inspo, stay for the life advice.

Lauren- her story Honeycrisp was as divine as the apples themselves. So aptly named, such juicy imagery.

Emily- thank you for starting my evening off so nicely and for waiting while my badge would not swipe. Your creative work is just as delightful as you.

Ana with the cardamom loaves from Puerto Rico, if you’re out there I should have grabbed your information and another slice of your dish.

Emily, of the journaling classes- I can’t wait to join one of your sessions. Thank you for thinking I look like someone who could sing on the internet.

Evie- you do sort of look like Kate Moss, in the best possible way, with your own take on her looks. Please keep sharing your takes. 

Ryann- I’m excited to dive into your Substack and will be stealing your Aunt Geneva’s crowd-serving style.

Joe- a photographer, not just a food photographer, but damn are you good with food & bev.

Christopher- never stop shooting on film. It’s a compliment that it matches your aesthetic.