Filling What is Empty, Emptying What is Full

In 2019, I found myself living in a meditation retreat center in Northern California, a tranquil haven nestled amidst Mendocino County’s majestic redwood forests and the winding Navarro River. My days were simple yet deeply fulfilling. I spent my time working on the computer, wandering through the garden, feeding the goats, and taking long, reflective walks in the woods.

Late that summer, something remarkable happened. The orchard on the property, with its 80 apple trees, came alive in a sudden explosion of fruit. It was as if the trees had conspired overnight to gift us an extraordinary abundance. Apples rained down in a kaleidoscope of shapes, colors, and flavors, littering the ground like nature’s confetti. These trees had always been part of the scenery—a peaceful backdrop to my rural life—but now they demanded attention. The sheer volume of apples overwhelmed us. We picked and picked, but the fruit seemed to multiply faster than we could gather it. I baked endlessly, gifted apples to neighbors, incorporated them into every meal, and yet the mountains of fruit persisted. Clearly, this abundance was calling for something greater.

Around this time, my friend and spiritual teacher, Nicole Daedone, came to visit. Inspired by the overwhelming harvest, she had an idea. “What if we created something like farm-to-table but with a focus on love?” she mused. She called it Love to Table. Her vision was simple yet profound: when we are blessed with abundance—whether in apples or in love—it is our responsibility to circulate it. If we don’t, it rots, much like unpicked fruit on the ground.

Nicole’s idea resonated deeply, not just because of the apples, but because of her own story. Years earlier, she had been homeless in San Francisco’s Tenderloin district. She shared how well-meaning organizations would offer endless bread—too much bread, in fact—but little else. The monotony left her stomach bloated and her spirit yearning for true nourishment. She dreamed of a place where people could enjoy a high-quality meal, prepared with care, and served with dignity. Not a handout or charity, but an experience imbued with love and respect. She envisioned a restaurant where Michelin-starred chefs served exquisite meals—free of charge—to those in need, without stigma or shame. The idea stirred something within me, lighting a spark I hadn’t realized was waiting to ignite.

It felt as though all the threads of my life had come together in that moment. As a teenager, I had organized bake sales to raise money for the American Cancer Society and AIDS Walk, selling cookies and cakes on the street. In college, I started a UCLA chapter of Challah for Hunger, baking over 100 loaves of bread each week to support women impacted by genocide in Darfur. My passion for baking, my disdain for waste, and my commitment to helping others had always been part of me. Now, Nicole’s vision gave me a way to weave all these experiences into something new. When she asked me if this project was my “baby,” I didn’t hesitate. “YES!” I texted back, my heart leaping with purpose.

Our original free restaurant Love to Table in the Tenderloin in San Francisco

And so, Love to Table was born. What started as an inspired conversation amidst an orchard has now grown into a program called Free Food, which serves over 500 nourishing three-course, farm-to-table meals each week. Building this nonprofit was both exhilarating and humbling. With the help of friends, I tackled everything: filing state registrations, scaling recipes, managing volunteers, fundraising, navigating taxes, and handling all the unglamorous but essential details of running an organization. It was a labor of love, teaching me not only how to nourish others but also how to grow as a person. 

Though I’ve since stepped back from running daily operations, Free Food remains the highlight of my week. Attending the meals, sitting with guests, and sharing moments of genuine connection fill me in a way nothing else can. There’s a special joy in the small acts—bringing someone an extra dollop of sauce, slipping a lemon wedge into their water, or simply listening to their stories. Many of our guests come from places of invisibility, where the world seems to pass them by. At Free Food, they are seen, heard, and loved.

For me, this is the essence of tikkun olam—repairing the world. While we often think of it as something we do for others, the truth is that it transforms us as well. Every smile, every shared meal, every moment of connection is a reminder of our shared humanity. As I pour my love into this work, it overflows back to me, nourishing my spirit and reaffirming my belief in the power of kindness.

My journey toward Free Food was paved with moments of care and activism. When a friend’s mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, I rallied my peers for a bake sale that raised $500—a fortune for a tween. I found a matching donor and proudly handed $1,000 to the American Cancer Society. In college, I poured my heart into baking challah, experimenting with chocolate, cinnamon, and sesame toppings. Every loaf was a symbol of hope, with proceeds supporting women navigating the turmoil in Darfur.

Looking back, each of these experiences was a stepping stone, preparing me for this work. Free Food is more than a meal program; it’s a movement that celebrates abundance, dignity, and love. It reminds us that when we share what we have—whether apples, bread, or compassion—we nourish not just others, but ourselves.

To learn more or support our mission, visit Unconditional Freedom.