Off-Menu // One Year of Flood's

Flood’s in print, plus celebrating post number fifty-two

Off-Menu // One Year of Flood's

I’m writing to you live and direct from Edinburgh, Scotland, today — coming down from the high of Oasis Live ‘25, where the Tennent’s lagers went down easy, and I subsequently lost my voice belting “Don’t Look Back in Anger.” Next week, you’ll be getting an Away Game from the UK: a recap of the good meals, great pubs, and a legendary show.

Today’s something a little different, though — a few quick notes and reflections.

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Off-Menu Magazine Issue 02

Last Sunday, after hitting send on the Bernie’s write-up, I high-tailed it over to Williamsburg for the Off-Menu Magazine Issue 02 launch party. Off-Menu is an independent, community-driven publication that’s led by my incredibly talented friend Sophie Chen.

I met Sophie back in the winter of ‘23. We connected through IG and became fast friends after realizing we were neighbors in Fort Greene and had nicely overlapping tastes — specifically, the same deep appreciation for Berbena in Barcelona. I remember our first hang well: a cold, gloomy Brooklyn afternoon spent lingering over pour-overs at Villager.

Even though we had just met, I felt seen and understood by Sophie, creatively. At the time, I was about a year into posting on the Flood’s Instagram. I was proud of what I was producing and how I was expressing myself, but didn’t really have defined goals or a broader plan for the project. Sophie was encouraging, reassuring, and shared similar ambitious yet ambiguous creative desires. It was comforting to be around someone with direction but not definition — no obvious path forward, but an overarching feeling that something big was coming.

Well, Off-Menu is Sophie’s big thing. She made it happen. Issue 02, in particular, is a brilliant magazine that’s so tastefully done and meticulously considered. Every single detail — the texture of the paper, the lay-flat binding, the layout and design — makes it an enjoyable reading experience. The content is captivating — a collection of food and beverage stories that have range but cohesion, supported by evocative photography. Getting the magazine in people’s hands — and celebrating the launch — was the last step of a nearly year-long process that Sophie and the talented community around her grinded through.

I’m grateful to have played a small role in the magazine, contributing to Off-Menu Issue 02 as a writer. My piece on Hot Soup & Bad Larry’s Sandwiches, the epic 8-week pop-up on the Lower East Side from my friends Russell Markus and Reid Webster, was one of several featured stories on the new, unconventional wave of dining in New York City. The story is brought to life with photography from Bryan Anton, who absolutely smashed the assignment and captured the best of the S&S crew and scene. It’s a fun read — one of my favorite things I’ve written. It’s filled with quips from Russell and Reid that make me laugh (and crave lentil soup and braised lamb sandwiches) every time I read through. I’m honored Sophie thought of me for this piece.

This is the first time my writing has been in print (unless one of you sickos has been printing out my Substack posts). If you’re a fan, a friend, or something in between, consider picking up a copy here. There’s local pickup available in NYC and Barcelona, shipping everywhere else. It’s also on the shelves at Hudson Wilder (!!) and more stockists coming soon. I promise it’s a worthy purchase (plus, it looks great on a coffee table).

Huddled around in the backyard at Masquerade — celebrating the launch, eating Russell’s salsa macha melons — reminded me what a special community I’m a part of. It’s a network of talented writers, photographers, chefs, and food-interested people — all with a genuine desire to connect, learn, and grow. Being surrounded by people with boundless ambition is one of the best things about living in New York. I owe a lot of my personal growth to the friends, old and new, around me.

Order Off-Menu Magazine Issue 02 here!

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One Year of Flood’s on Substack

Next week will be post number fifty-two here at Flood’s — one year of writing on Substack. I considered cruising past this milestone — keeping to business as usual, putting my head down, writing another piece — but that would have been disingenuous, considering how I’m feeling.

A year ago, I committed myself to publishing one essay a week for a year. Every Sunday.

The first rule of writing, I’m told, is to avoid talking about the process of writing. But this process — translating the thoughts inside my head into something tangible, digestible, interesting — has been impactful for me. Challenging, no doubt — but worth it.

No matter how much enthusiasm and creative energy I was working with each week — a lot or a little — Sunday came around, and an essay went out the door. A lot of people cautioned me that if I reached the point where I didn’t enjoy writing, I’d gone too far. I’m not sure that’s true. This process has pushed me outside my comfort zone, and frankly, I needed that push and structure. I’m better because of it. Opportunities — like the Off-Menu piece, photo gigs, and creative consulting projects — have opened up. I’m more confident than ever in who I am and how I share my voice and view of the world.

Anyone who’s been around me this past year knows I’m committed to the bit. I fired off my weekly posts from Chicago, at the Denver airport, in Austin, back home in Detroit, on the 403 driving home from Toronto (as a passenger, chill), in Miami, from a terrible airport pub in Montreal, from a world-class cafe in Mexico City. A few essays were sent from Italy, one from Barcelona. Most were sent from Brooklyn, where I live, most of the time.

I wish this were all off-the-cuff and easy writing, but the truth is, it’s not. Every essay on here has taken at least 10 hours. Some, like Audio Encounters, seemed to consume every free thought in my head for weeks leading up. Others, like West Michigan, came a bit more easily and fluidly. But no matter what, my process is slow, and I am an overthinker at heart. I also don’t have it in me to half-ass anything I do. That quality came from my Dad, who always preached If you’re going to do it, do it right.

The reason I tell you this is because I want to thank you for the support. Thank you for reading, for subscribing, for reaching out with stories from your travels, and for the notes when you use a Flood’s Worldwide recommendation. Thank you for being here. Having your effort recognized, even praised, is far from a guarantee. I’m so incredibly happy with the traction I’ve gotten on Substack. An engaged audience is a constant reminder to keep going — to keep writing. Again, thank you.

I also want to acknowledge what an unexpected privilege it has been to make friends through this project. I expected writing essays on the internet to be a relatively solo endeavor. And while that’s mostly true, the friends I’ve built have made this endeavor worthwhile 100 times over. Bagus, Lindsay, Madeline, Reid, Bella, Sam, Gaby, Dave, Emma — have all gone from internet presences to people I actually hang out with — how wild is that.

Olivia was the first person I met through Substack. And for the past year, right on Franklin has been a constant stream of inspiration (and motivation). Knowing a roF letter is coming right behind me on Mondays has been the push I’ve needed to get a few of my pieces finished. Olivia’s writing is clever, personable, and tasteful. And she’s always been there to bounce ideas around and steer my crazy takes straight.

In addition to being an amazing friend and supporter, Sam has quietly been reading and editing my writing. No heavy cuts — he leaves my voice alone, tightens my rambles, and has helped me establish consistency and style. I am so immensely grateful for him.

And to every subscriber here, thank you. I see every single person who signs up for Flood’s. I always wonder how they came across my page and where they’re at in life. And I sincerely hope they’ll find value in what I have to say, or comfort in reading some voicey writing. A few people have told me they felt like they’ve known me for years, even though we’ve never met. What a fucking compliment that is.

To the paid subscribers, I truly cannot thank you enough. Your contributions mean more than you know. I am so beyond grateful you’re choosing to support what I’m doing.

I know a lot of this reads like the end of the road — but I promise it’s not. Far from it. I have so many ideas for where we go from here. I had a blast getting friends involved with posts like Perfect Corners, and I have a grand plan for a Flood’s interview series — that’ll get going in the next few months. I have physical goods in the works for paid subscribers. New formats bouncing around in my head. Travel destinations I’m eager to visit. Much, much more to come. Cheers to 52. Thank you so much.

Lorenzo

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