The World Is Scary Right Now — Here’s Why You Should Go Out to Eat

I've been especially in love with restaurants in the last few months because, I’ll be honest, I don’t know anyone who feels all that great these days. Between the onslaught of political news, wars, wildfires, grocery bills, storms, the loss of a few culinary icons, and the struggles friends are having, 2025 already feels like a rough one. 

The best way I've found to keep my head up is by focusing on small, positive moments. It feels good to check in with my mother or a friend, and even better when I get to see them in person and get a deep hug. I’m trying to step up my volunteer work in my community and even be a little more friendly at the grocery store and in other everyday interactions, in the hopes that a smile or thanks helps someone else. It certainly makes me feel better. 

Along the way, I’ve found that being in restaurants is one of those good things. F&W’s executive features editor Kat Kinsman told me that restaurant dinners with good friends were the natural continuation of the recent memorial service for our friend, Pableaux Johnson, who made friendship his mission. When things are tough, it’s much easier for me to cook something simple at home. But that also means I’m isolating myself, and not giving people in the world a chance to lift my spirits.

The other night, after spending the afternoon with a friend grappling with a new cancer diagnosis, my husband and friends and I went to Piccolo Sogno here in Chicago. I knew their focaccia and seared salmon would feed my soul, but I had forgotten how good it felt to get hugs from the chef and manager, who are longtime friends, and let other people take care of us.

Similarly, when my friends at Sunday Dinner Club relaunched their dinners last month after the pandemic shut them down, I reveled in how good it felt to be back in that cozy space, sharing a table with people I didn’t know, but who I liked already because they were also fans of the restaurants and those chefs. It’s nice to look at people you don’t know with a friendly eye, instead of suspicion.

And when Jason Hammel, the chef and owner of Chicago’s beloved Lula Cafe, messaged me about From the Pass, a new discussion and community event series he was hosting, my answer was an immediate yes. 

Each month, Hammel invites industry people to join him in conversation for 45 minutes or so, followed by a family-style dinner, at his event space LOULOU. That night, about 60 people, including several chefs and other industry professionals, came to listen in as Jason spoke with chef John Shields of the three Michelin-starred Smyth and the more casual The Loyalist, and Jerry Boone, the farmer behind Froggy Meadow Farm in Beloit, Wisconsin. The theme of the conversation was “stressing the fruit,” which Boone explained is part of his farming philosophy.

“The best fruit comes from a dying tree,” he noted. “Stressing the plant can be good. Hardship creates strength and character in produce, and in people. If you are going to grow something, you have to do it fiercely.” I don’t know if Boone was giving life lessons or just talking about fruit, but it resonated. 

The idea for the series originated from Lula Cafe’s Monday pre-shift meetings, which often include guest speakers. Hammel told me later that he and his team got so much out of it that he wanted to open it up to the community.

Pre-shift meetings are like church — or therapy

I think of pre-shift as being a sacred moment in restaurants: It’s a time to pause and mentally prepare for the night, check in and make eye contact with the people who will have your back and whose backs you will have when service gets hairy. It’s hard to pause the avalanche of work that needs to be finished in order to talk with your team and explain the specials while you find out about VIPS and other news, but taking that moment is so worth it. And, sometimes, it reminds you why you chose that job and that frantic life in the first place. 

That night at LOULOU felt like the best kind of pre-shift. The two chefs and a farmer sat on barstools at the front of the room, Jason sipping water from a deli container while John cradled his left hand, swathed in bandages earned from a bad cut from trimming chestnuts the day before. They talked about their ambitions, why they chose this life, how it impacted their lives outside the restaurants.

Mostly, they talked about their efforts to center their work on their craft, and to make that ambition work financially. They spoke of their desire to express themselves artistically as chef and as a farmer, and in doing so, create connections between human beings. 

Sitting at a table with strangers is good for you

Sitting there at a table with people I didn’t know — instead of eating at home in front of a movie — I marveled anew at the power of a restaurant created with the best intentions behind it, one motivated to bring people together and give them a chance to experience each other live and in person. I was reminded, beautifully, that restaurants were made to create small, good moments. 

I went back for another From the Pass event, this time with Dan Jacobs, the co-chef and co-owner of DanDan, EsterEve, and other restaurants in Milwaukee. That night, Hammel and Jacobs talked about what drew them into restaurant life, what happens when you don’t succeed, and how closing a restaurant or another professional misstep can block your creativity. 

Jacobs, who was the runner up on Season 21 of Top Chef, got the message that he could keep things real. While he wasn’t bandaged up like Shields, he shared how his diagnosis of Kennedy’s Disease, a rare neuromuscular disorder, impacts his mobility and ability to do some of the hands-on work in the kitchen. And he had posted on Facebook that morning that one of his restaurants had been robbed the night before. He talked about facing obstacles and doing his best to overcome them. The two chefs shared why kitchen life appealed to them, in particular the fact that you are rewarded for doing hard work, and the benefit in finding calm in the chaos every night. This wasn’t a celebrity chef's PR-aligned speech, but a conversation between human beings. 

We live in a world that pushes us from all sides to not engage with other people. Wherever we go, we stand or sit in silence, our faces illuminated by screens, and avoid talking to the person next to us, who may not agree with how we live, relax, or vote. I’m still not going to be that person who talks to strangers on airlines, but I am taking a lesson from these restaurant experiences, and trying to remember how good it felt to connect with other people. Nights like that one are rich in intangibles, but those are the things that keep me going.