Volume 4: Fourth Seating.
Seven voices. One table. Stories about what you hold onto when everything else tries to leave.
Welcome to the fourth installment of Between Courses from TODOS Media and República & Co.
If you’re reading this on Sunday, February 2nd, you already know.
Last week, we announced that República will close on March 7th. The kitchen that refused to apologize. The kitchen that became a stage for people who had ideas but had never been given the opportunity to test them. That kitchen is closing—not because we stopped believing, but because when your staff can no longer assume their safety, silence stops being an option.
We could have stayed quiet. We chose clarity instead.
This volume isn’t about that closing. Not entirely. It’s about what happens in the forty-eight hours after. What it feels like to search for tacos in West Texas while ICE agents search for reasons to pull you over. How grief becomes a gateway to cultural reclamation. The gap between what you expected America to be and what it actually is. The small dignities that get stripped away—like a real blanket instead of tin foil—and the small dignities we still have left to give each other.
Some weeks are heavier than others. This one broke us a little.
But here’s what we still have: stories. Seven of them. From people who keep showing up even when showing up feels impossible.
Before we begin, we need to acknowledge two pieces that didn’t make it into this volume but deserve your attention. Last week, our founder Angel Medina published “The Day Has Come“—the official announcement of República’s closing. If you haven’t read it yet, you should. And then, in the middle of everything, he dropped a meditation on playlists and intimacy called “Don’t Send It Unless Someone Asks.” It’s the kind of thing you write when you need to think about something other than endings for a minute. We get it.
We’re combining seven publications into one: One Last Thing, Humble Kitchen, Holy Spirits, SORBIDO, Cocina Noroeste, Portraits Of A City, and CURADA.
This is what it means to keep going when the world wants you to stop.
Let’s begin.
ONE LAST THING…
Blood on the Tracks
Forty-Eight Hours Later
It’s been forty-eight hours since we made the announcement about the closing of República.
Forty-eight hours.
I’ll be honest, the first six weren’t easy.
I went home after the conversations with our employees. After staring at the screen before pressing send. After talking to reporters, writers, people I respect. And dodging reporters, writers—people I don’t really care to give my time to.
I went home and just sat down.
Messages from friends. From family. From people who knew me in passing. Instagram stories. Tributes. People writing about me—about us—or maybe just me, like it was an obituary.
I was honored. I was touched.
And more than once I thought, motherfucker, I’m not dead yet.
Sometime around one in the morning, I finally got ready for bed. I took a long shower; too hot. Steam everywhere. Put on a robe. Sat on the sofa. Played my favorite Dylan album and simply sat there.
I was at peace.
The problem was—I couldn’t enjoy it.
Read the full story + see the photography →
HUMBLE KITCHEN
Searching For Tacos On Thin ICE (Part I)
When your home becomes a battleground for immigration agents.
“Why do you need to see my ID?”
The ICE agent and I stared at each other.
José R. Ralat is the taco editor at Texas Monthly; he and I have been traveling together for years, putting over 30,000 miles on the road throughout Texas to look for tacos. Really, we’re looking for culture—nuestra cultura—the people and stories that get overlooked.
This year we wanted to document lost missions, which meant going farther out from Interstate 10 than usual. What we didn’t expect was how many Customs and Border Patrol vehicles we’d see. Or that we’d be pulled over twice. Or that a simple trip to photograph a cemetery would turn into thirty minutes of interrogation.
“What were you doing in Presidio?”
“We went to a cemetery. Have you heard of the Ochoa cemetery?”
He stared at me.
“We’re doing a story on lost missions and cemeteries and—”
“Why did you double back?”
Read the full story + see the photography →
HOLY SPIRITS
Falling in Love With Agave—Reconnecting with my Roots
An original story from the co-host of the Que Penca?! podcast.
One of the most common questions I get asked when I share about my passion for agave spirits from Mexico is: “How did you get into this?”
Depending on the audience I give them one of two answers: the first and much shorter answer is - My dad is from Guadalajara. That is typically enough for them to move onto the next most common question I am asked – “What is your favorite tequila?”
What led a California-born, PNW raised, first-generation American citizen down the rabbit hole that is tequila… and raicilla… and mezcal…
Six months after I turned twenty one my grandfather passed away. Immediately following his passing I flew with my dad and brother down to SoCal to be with family. During those weeks, every day meant another family gathering full of tears, laughter, food, and plenty of tequila. This was a significant time for me because it was the first time I was introduced to what I was told was “good tequila.”
Looking back now, I wouldn’t classify any of those bottles as the good stuff, but when my uncle confidently pulled them out and said they were for sipping not for shots or cocktails, my interest piqued.
Tequila represents people. Tequila is a place, and tequila was my catalyst to reconnecting with my roots, my heritage, and my ancestors.
Read the full story + see the photography →
SORBIDO
Expectations Versus Reality in U.S. Coffee Culture
The unrealistic expectations of experiencing a “first-world” coffee culture in America.
I was recently going through my earliest notes from when I first stepped behind the bar at a specialty coffee shop. Reading them again, I realized how my world completely shifted once I understood how complex a 500-year-old beverage could be.
That path eventually brought me to the United States and, unexpectedly, forced me to confront some deeply ingrained myths about what a “first-world” coffee culture is supposed to look like. I arrived with high expectations — especially because of where I landed: Portland, Oregon.
Portland was the dream destination of every La Americana neighborhood-hipster barista back home. People would talk about PDX like it’s a sacred ground for coffee — incredible espresso machines, world-class baristas, endless knowledge.
That fantasy didn’t survive contact with reality.
What I quickly learned is that Portland is a coffee city — but mostly a latte city. It’s not about origins; it’s about syrups. The more syrups, the better. People want sugar and milk with a hint of coffee.
That curiosity — the desire to ask questions, to learn — is something I’ve found more often in hidden garage cafés in Mexico than in many polished coffee bars in Portland.
Read the full story + see the photography →
COCINA NOROESTE
Semifreddo with honey-macerated kiwi and candied pistachios
Pairing a finicky winter citrus while showcasing honey’s nuanced flavor versatility.
Chef Olivia Bartruff is currently standing in for Chef Juan Gomez while he’s on paternity leave. Sending his family best wishes!
When I was looking at Lilia Comedor’s ingredients for the week, Chef Juan said that he had been thinking about adding a semifreddo to the menu. The kiwis we have are from Oregon right now, and they have a really tropical, earthy flavor. In general though, people don’t really use kiwi a lot. The season’s not very long, and it has a really particular flavor and a certain astringency to it. This can make it difficult to pair with other ingredients sometimes.
So when I was developing this dessert with kiwi, I wanted to pair it with other Oregon local ingredients, but to also bring out its more earthy and tropical flavors. Honey has both of those flavor qualities too.
Honey from high-quality bee farms can truly show you that honey tastes differently depending on the varietal. For my semifreddo, I’m macerating the kiwis and mixing my cream and eggs with pumpkin honey. But then I’m also finishing the dessert with a radicchio honey—which has a noticeably more bitter, complex taste that balances out the sweetness.
Overall, the idea is that through this minimalist dish, every ingredient should be really punchy.
See the full breakdown + photography →
PORTRAITS OF A CITY
Biking in Portland Taught me the Meaning of Community
How unspoken shared values can contribute to a greater sense of belonging.
When I moved to Portland, some of the first friends I ever made were from the biking community.
Before becoming a cyclist in Portland, I was just a college student at UC Irvine on a bike, trying to get to class on time. In New York, I was one of the few brave people who chose to ride a bike in Brooklyn to beat the subway delays. There was a certain degree of personal separation between me and my bike back then.
However, my bike was still important to me, regardless of how much or little I was personally connected to it at the time. It mattered enough that when I moved from New York to Portland, I went to a bike shop to get it deconstructed to a customized size for specialized wrapping and packaging to ship it across the country.
One of the first parts of Portland culture that I was exposed to when I moved here was Pedalpalooza. Where do I even begin to describe the world of Pedalpalooza? In a city that now often seems so far removed from its “Keep Portland Weird” days, the people who show up for Pedalpalooza rides seem to perfectly retain its early essence.
Regardless of whether I’m biking alone or biking with a group, the camaraderie that I feel when I see other cyclists makes me recognize that community has an expansive definition. Sometimes, feeling like you’re part of something bigger and greater together is all it can take.
Read the full essay + see the photography →
CURADA
What Humanity Needs is a Security Blanket
A San Marcos blanket would do the world good in current times of trouble.
One of the last gifts I ever got from my father was a heavy winter “La San Marcos” blanket. That blanket ended up stored away in my mother’s garage because I deemed it too tacky. Still, there’s something warm and comforting about those blankets despite the fact that we devalued them for the sake of upward mobility.
I know there was trauma behind his affinity for gifting blankets to friends and family. On rare occasions in casual conversations, he would talk about his harrowing childhood of sleeping on the streets under flattened cardboard boxes. In his last years, he lived out of a run-down aluminum-colored station wagon until he purchased an older-model recreational vehicle. His heavy San Marcos zebra-pattern blanket was his reliable source of warmth on 40-degree winter nights in Southern California.
The world has gotten a lot colder since his passing. I am somewhat at peace knowing he will never experience the horror that our undocumented community is going through under this administration.
I wish I could give a San Marcos blanket to every detainee suffering on bare floors in cages. If only we could offer up a security blanket to every person who feels like they have lost everything or have nothing. I want to believe this is still the land of opportunity. I want to stop thinking about people being trapped like caged animals. I want to believe in humanity.
Read the full story + see the photography →
Until Next Time
Some weeks break you. This was one of them.
But through it all, people kept going. Chuey reconnected with his roots through grief and tequila. Mauricio confronted the gap between what America promised and what it delivered. Olivia refined a dessert until every ingredient mattered. Katrina found belonging on a bike. Emmanuel wished he could give every detainee the dignity of a blanket. Angel sat in steam and Dylan trying to process forty-eight hours.
This is what survival looks like now. Not grand gestures. Just people showing up. Making something intentional. Refusing to let the weight make them smaller.
The world wants us quiet. We refuse.
República may be closing, but we’re still here. Still cooking. Still writing. Still pouring. Still building. And we’re about to release the shows we’ve been working on—stories that deserve to be seen, voices that deserve to be heard.
If you believe this work matters, consider becoming a paid subscriber. Your support helps us release Humble Kitchen, Memorable, Rose City ‘Til I Die, Her Way, and the other shows we’ve been building. Stories about culture, memory, and the people who refuse to disappear.
Thank you for being at this table with us.
We’re not going anywhere.
TODOS Media
Seven publications. One table.
SUBSCRIBE: One Last Thing • Humble Kitchen • Holy Spirits • SORBIDO • Cocina Noroeste • Portraits Of A City • CURADA
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