Writing the Year Backwards

A personal look at 2025, and invitation to slow down and reflect.

Let's write the year

I hope I’ve caught you in the middle of a flurry - wrapping paper everywhere, last-minute grocery shopping, and maybe a little frantic deep house cleaning. Or rather, I hope it isn’t just me who’s behaving so badly during this time of the year.

That I somehow got it all done early and still have a full day to relax in a clean house is the gift I gave myself this Christmas. I watched Emily in Paris (& Rome), drank hot cocoa, wrapped presents, snuggled with my babies, and finally sat down to write you a letter I’ve been composing for awhile now.

Honestly, I’ve had trouble sitting down to write. There’s so much I want to say - and so much that I can’t. Or rather, I’m not supposed to. And when something like that is hanging over your head, sharing can feel weird. Guarded. So let’s start at the beginning.

At the end of 2024, I did an exercise called Writing the Year. It’s loosely based on Mel Robbins’ Year In Review, but with a little less pressure and a lot less questions. Earlier this month, I sat down to do it again - this time for 2025 - and over the course of just a few days, I realized just how much I had already forgotten. So many events, special moments, and feelings that felt enormous at the time - were all quietly tucked away in my phone.

Here are just a few highlights, and a few not so great moments.

Right at the start of the year, in January, I made the “51 Things You Need to Eat in New Jersey” list - for biscuits (!). I also did a lot of hot yoga and made a bergamot ice box pie that I had forgotten all about, but will be making again come this January. A new annual tradition, maybe.

February was a wonderful time, mostly spent in Alabama. My sister Emily flew to New Jersey and we drove down together (actually, she drove like Dale Earnhardt, Jr. and I held on for dear life). We laughed a lot. When we made it to Dallas County, she looked over and said - there’s no place like home is there?

I spent weeks making pies and teaching pasta classes at Sara Cole’s beautiful cottage, Abadir’s in Greensboro. I owe a great deal of thanks to Wil Cushman for the photography, to Lauren from Hillfolk Farmacy for the flower arranging and friendship, and to my sweet Aunt Linda for serenading us all. And to Devon Gray for spending a Sunday morning setting up a pasta class, simply because she wanted to hang.

I helped my mama paint her new house and install signs in Selma - because it just isn’t a trip home if I don’t help dig at least one post hole. It was a challenging month because I was on my own with both dogs and trying to squeeze in as much as possible. But now I see what that time gave to me - and I’m deeply thankful for the people who make my life feel so full.

In March, I was back in Jersey City, teaching two pasta classes at the shop. I learned something important: I need someone else to cook while I teach - and Sam Donato is that cook. I went to Ellis Island for the first time. After fifteen years in New York, I finally stood where my great-grandparents entered this country from Italy. It was much more emotional than I expected.

Since then, I’ve spent a lot of time being a genealogist. A surprisingly fun and new hobby! Something just for me and my family, and not related to work in any way. Except, of course, when food or old recipes sneak in.

Throughout the rest of the year, there were some low moments - specifically some online bullying from the person I least expected it to come from. At first, I was really hurt and angry. And deeply disappointed because it was coming from someone I deeply admire. Someone older and highly regarded in the food world. The messages were not only about my work, but about the community I’ve tended to so carefully and intentionally.

It started earlier this year and carried on until quite recently. When I looked deeper, I realized that it was actually a lesson about boundaries. Especially when it comes to social media. Going forward, I’ll be far more intentional, not only in what I share, but with whom I share it with.

I don’t want to feel careful, especially here. I really hoped that this space could be an extension of Downtowner - that third place, where we come together, mostly just to hang. To talk about family, life, dinner parties or sometimes just admire some pretty dishes. When that started to feel threatened, I felt incredibly insecure and unsure about everything.

But recently, I realized it just came down to me needing to show someone the door. It wasn’t about them, it was about me taking charge. Tough lesson, but valuable, eh?

Another thing I’ve learned this year, is that this community - the one I’ve loved and built for the past nine years - is here for the same reason I am: connection. To something real. One of the biggest joys from this past year has been teaching classes.

This year, I taught pasta making at the shop, to a group of women for Mother’s Day weekend, at a studio in Greensboro, around a big table in Selma and in private apartments and homes in downtown Jersey City. It’s on my list to do more of in 2026, because it creates joy. I’ve already got several classes on the calendar, and I look forward to telling you more when the time comes.

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READY TO WRITE YOUR YEAR?

That’s all just from the a few months of the year. You’re probably getting the idea by now. Doing this exercise reminds us to slow down the hustle. To take in what mattered - what stands out, and to think about what we would like to have more of in the future.

If you’re interested in writing your year, here’s some things to consider:

• Use your photo album as your calendar. Also a great opportunity to clean up your camera roll! Open your photos and take out a real piece of paper and a pen, and get ready to make a list. We love a list!

• Don’t try to do this in one hour or day. I like to break it up by quarter, but maybe you want to go month by month. However you decide to go about it - 12 little 20 minute sessions or 4 chunks of quarterly reviews - do that, and then take a break.

• The point is to look at everything - and your pictures will actually show you more than you think - saved screenshots, friend time, and family moments. You’ve already captured what you wanted to remember. Some big things, yes. But most of it is probably small moments of joy. A flower. A beautiful view. A simple dinner. Those are all actually the most important. By the end, you should have a full list of your year.

• Using this outline, write the year. What stood out? What hurt? How did you spend your time? Where didn’t you spend enough of it? While I have shared some highs and lows, most of what I wrote is just for my eyes only - so don’t feel like you need to write a novel. You’re allowed to brag on yourself a little.

• Review it, go back and look again at the memories you wrote down on your list. This is where you’ll begin to take note of what you want to carry forward - or not.

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Another special moment this year was a local photo shoot with The B magazine. I’ve shared a little on Instagram, but if you would like to take a look here’s a link. A lot of people worked really hard on this shoot, from the editorial team to Abigail, the incredible photographer, and Ann Volkwein, who spent time interviewing me and writing the piece. I’m grateful they made space for me in this special holiday issue. They also deserve to be celebrated, so please check them out and say hello.

This is the first project in which I made and styled all of the food for a magazine shoot, and I really enjoyed that part of the process. I don’t think food stylist is on my wish list for 2026, but never say never! Be sure to check out the recipes too, there’s a few that you might want to make over the holiday break.

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Writing the year leaves me feeling less frantic, more rooted - like I’ve checked in with myself in a more intentional way. If you try this, I hope it gives you the same sense of clarity. And if not, I hope you can carve out some space for yourself in this last week of the year.

May 2026 be kind to us. And please let it be the year I get it all done early.

Pasta class at Darke Pines, March 2025.