Welcome to the first edition of this postcard series -- I’m not sure how long this will go on for -- but I’m glad you took a chance to be here (to either see this newsletter-podcast evolve, or wither to its demise. But let’s hope for the former, shall well? It’s the first day of the month after all. [And yes, I am self-imposing a forced sense of enthusiasm here at this year draws to a close.])
If we haven’t met already, hello, I’m Dee May. I seek out underreported human stories behind everyday ingredients; I do this through my biannual print publication, Plates. This Substack newsletter, however, will be a collection of my ongoing thoughts, processes, hiccups and lessons learned. Essentially, the undercurrent of putting together this independent food culture magazine alone.
And if we have met -- across the other platforms (mainly IG; not so much FB; and definitely not Twitter [but if you’d like to be my fifth follower there … ]) -- it’s good to see you here again.
In these weekly updates, I’ll be alternating between a podcast (a voice memo-ish take rather than a polished radio segment) and a postcard from wherever I may be in the moment. Last week, I published my very first episode ‘Why Food?’. Thank you to everyone for sending in your encouraging words. (Of course, as this side plate is a work in progress, any loving constructive and actionable feedback is much welcomed.)
Today, I’m writing from the office of the Rimbun Dahan arts residency, where I’ve been working from for the past two months — jumping between the veranda of my cabin, the poolside and this office with a view (if you can lift the roller shutters open with brute strength that is). (For those based in Malaysia, who are wondering: yes, I got here just in time before the second [partial] lockdown was imposed.)
Being at Rimbun Dahan -- a conservation garden of rainforest trees, home to endemic species, some now extinct in the wild -- has given me a renewed sense of space.
Space. A once forsaken luxury.
Producing work in this reforested piece of land, surrounded by greenery as far the eye can see; where fireflies and ladybugs sometimes visit as I stay up for another Zoom call (to meet Eastern Time).
Here, I’m learning to recognise bird calls. Spotting the differences in the leaves of dipterocarp trees. And not shrieking whenever a new creepy crawly surprises me behind the bathroom door. Not anymore, at least.
I admit space was something I took for granted over the years. Be it as I sat in the kebun behind a Dayak longhouse; feeding the mosquitoes while transcribing by a lake; or getting sent up an active volcano by my homestay Ibu in her attempt to get me off my laptop to “make new friends” with the other guests (also, a true story).
Today, the shouts of a roosting Changeable Hawk-Eagle cuts through the still evening wind-down air. The drone of the machinery across the pavilion (they’ve dug up their iconic lily pond) and the screech of motorcycles from neighbouring roads.
Outside the perimeters of Rimbun Dahan, industrial life seems to go on.
And in this space, under its fragmented canopy of hardwood trees, I’m in no hurry to rejoin the crowd any time soon.
Thanks for being here with me.
P/S If you enjoyed reading this, please feel free to forward this postcard to a friend. In the meantime you can find me posting occasional concoctions from the herb garden on IG (and the more haphazard instances, of foraging with one hand and swatting mosquitoes with the other, on my IG Stories).