Remix! Aimee Nezhukumatathil Names the World
"When you know a flower's name, you're less likely to trample it."
Hi friends,
Our next door neighbor has a blackberry bush that, over the course of the spring and summer, dangles its vines over the wooden fence and down into our backyard. The slow reach across the fence has begun and this heralds, to me, the best season of the year: the season of borrowed blackberries.
These blackberries are enormous. They’re hot off the vine and sweet. In July, just from the four or five brambles that hang down over our fence, we can pick about a pint of fat ones every other day. A friend will drop by and I’ll take them by the elbow, saying, “You won’t believe this, come see what’s growing back here.”
The neighbor kindly told us to eat everything we can reach, even to stand on a chair and lean over over on his side, and once, when I was out puttering around in the morning, I heard his voice say “Good morning.” When I looked up, his hand was hovering above the fence line, holding a white styrofoam cup mounded with fruit. Some extras.
This kind of over-the-fence neighbor gentleness isn’t something I’d yet run into in my years in New York. I saw the styrofoam cup and thought, Man, we have found ourselves in the right place. Let’s never leave. Now I’m a person who has feelings about blackberries.
“What we think about food is a portal into our own personal histories, ourselves — and most lovely of all, it’s a chance to deepen our connection with others,” writes poet Aimee Nezhukumatathil in her new essay collection, Bite by Bite: Nourishments and Jamborees. In this book, Nezhukumatathil assembles a group of writings on foods like vanilla, black pepper, bing cherry, lumpia that are evocative and personal. She writes: “Where did some of my favorite spices come from? As a poet of the natural world I had questions that begat questions, such as: why do I associate mint with maternal love? Why do pawpaws make me think of promises?”

It’s a beautiful book, and a welcome peek into Aimee’s way of seeing and savoring the world. In celebration, we’re re-airing her Thresholds interview from 2021, which was on the occasion of her book World of Wonders. The conversation traverses territory that’s relevant to both this current book and the Aimee’s broader project, which involves looking closely at the sensory world, the natural world, really paying attention to it. We talk in this interview about how she came to be so passionate about that and what she has learned about the power of paying attention to the people, plants, and animals around you. When you know a flower’s name, she points out, you are less likely to trample it.
Enjoying Bite by Bite, I started flipping back through Nezhukumatathil’s poetry and rediscovered this piece that I love from her very first book, which offers a blueprint to her writing even now— its precision, its lusciousness, and its curiosity. Fruit is a miracle!
Anyway, this episode is a delight, a treat, a snack for your weekend. Enjoy it with berries.
Mentioned in the episode:
Wanting to be Madonna (the 80s version) when you grow up
Regarding ethical imperative of naming, the #SayHerName movement
Not mentioned in the ep, but a fun read: Aimee’s Grub Street Diet, out today.
We’ll have new interviews for you soon! In the meantime, if you like what we’re up to here, please share the newsletter and the podcast far and wide — it really does help.
Til soon,
Jordan
Other recent episodes:
Maira Kalman Starches the Pillowcases
I was handed my first Maira Kalman book shortly after moving to New York. My boss at the time was sort of a monster, but he had great taste in literature: he pressed into my hands, at various points, M.F.K. Fisher, Laurie Colwin, Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood,
Dorothea Lasky on Sweetness and Horror
When our editor was working on this interview with the poet Dorothea Lasky, they texted to say, “Her voice is just so warm, like a hug.” It’s true! Sort of everything about being in Lasky’s presence feels like a hug: her big laugh, her friendly voice, the bright colors she wears. You’ll see what I mean when you hear the episode.
Vinson Cunningham Makes a Monument in Time
Vinson Cunningham’s experience writing his debut novel has almost perfectly overlapped with his time as a staff writer at The New Yorker, where he is currently the magazine’s theater critic. (He has also written compellingly about everything from K-Mart plastic shopping bags to Trump’s mugshot to the comedian Tracy Morgan.) It makes s…