Dear Reader,
letter from the eDitor
Valentine’s Day often arrives dressed in extravagance—grand gestures, fleeting indulgences, and a certain urgency to prove love through spectacle. But what if love isn’t something to perform? What if, instead, it’s something to practice?
This issue is a meditation on reverence—not just for romance, but for the quiet rituals that make life feel rich even when no one’s watching. Reverence is the pause before the first sip of coffee, the way candlelight softens a room, the small, deliberate acts that say, I’m here, and I’m paying attention. It’s the difference between consumption and connection, between having and holding.
We live in a world that glorifies speed, but love—true love— thrives in slowness. In the texture of handwritten notes, the warmth of bread just out of the oven, the lingering gaze across a table set not for an occasion, but for the simple fact that today is enough of one. This is about everyday abundance—the kind that doesn’t rely on more, but on meaning.
Inside, you’ll find objects and ideas curated not for their trend, but for their ability to anchor you to the present. Things that invite you to savor, to notice, to remember that intimacy isn’t found in the extraordinary, but in the ordinary made sacred through intention.
Let this Valentine’s Day be less about declarations and more about devotion—not to a person, but to the art of living well.
- Daniel Emilio Soares
momEnTs THAT s HAPE d 2024
1. A 200 foot table and a gazebo bathed in fruit and light in Watermill
2. Feeding Martha Stewart grapes on a rainy afternoon in Manhattan.
3. A wedding in Tuscany at Villa Cozzano
4. A bacchanal for Elena Velez in the Upper East Side
5. Blue hydrangeas, cold cash divine for Staud & Monte's at the Montauk Manor
Villa flaneur
At Villa Flâneur, the ladies possessed their own devoted Italian gentlemen, ever poised to tenderly hold their cigarettes as they languidly inhaled. Lifelong stories we’ll tell about seven days spent truly being present with each other. A beautiful, simple, and profound week — now ascended to the realm of nostalgia. To Lyndsey, Abigail, Vincenzo, PJ, Chelsea, Paige, Dana, and Emma— it was truly a business doing pleasure with you.
givE THE gif T of
IndulgEncE
call or text 212-516-figs to place your orDer or Dm on instagram @alimentariflaneur
orDer by february 10th for DeliVery on february 13th or 14th
THE PromisE of An IndulgEnT breakfAsT
The Promise of an Indulgent Breakfast is a fantasy come to life by simply saying yes, I will stay in just a little while longer. These foods are not just breakfast. They’re an offering. A small rebellion against the rush, the noise, the insatiable hunger for more. They remind you that luxury isn’t about excess. It’s about attention. And a knowing that taking great pleasure in small offerings is the key to a more content and fulfilling life.
• grapes in this basket:
• pasteis De nata
• royal cinnamon
• grace’s espresso grinD
• satsumas
• JorDanian Dates
• DrieD turkish figs
• local heirloom eggs
• chiVes
• beppino occelli butter
• siesta co. flaky sea salt
• Vogues in VelVet
$
EvEnings THAT LingEr
The Gift of Evenings That Linger is truly what Valentines Day is all about. It’s not grand gestures. It’s not expense. It’s telling yourself, your lover, your family and friends that abundance is free, that we have everything we need, and that the aroma that fills the room as garlic twirls and swirls in the pan, is enough.
in this basket:
reD & green grapes
• lemons
• beppino occelli butter
fresh caVatelli for tWo
• parmigiano Vacche rosse
• large & sWeet onion
large bulb of garlic
• terra amore & fantasia plum tomatoes
• fresh italian parsley
• (Drugs) herbs & spices
• mozzarella Di bufala seasoneD breaDcrumbs calabrian chilli
• siesta co. flaky sea salt
• arthur aVe taralli
175$
THe gif T of sobremEsA
The Gift of Sobremesa is a celebration of the sacred pause after a meal. It overflows with provisions made by my friends Lucia and Carlos, harkening back to casual summer evenings at their family home just outside Valencia. A rustic basket of crusty bread, sun-kissed citrus, plump grapes, delicate roses, and preserved Siesta treasures—each an invitation to savor slowly and connect deeply.
siesta co. tuna belly in yuzu kosho
• siesta co. cantabrian anchoVies
• siesta co. iberico Jamon De bellota
siesta co. black flaky salt
• black garlic in this basket:
pan De cristal (glass breaD)
seVille sour oranges
• oro blanco grapefruit
• satsumas
california grapes
WeDge of Womanchego
• greenhouse heirloom tomato
295$
An ElaboraTE b uffET in A smAll nEW york APArTmEnT
An Elaborate Buffet in a Small New York Apartment is a decadent still life that rests comfortably in contrast, one that effortlessly balances the glitz & frenetic energy of New York with the indulgent slowness of the Mediterranean. It’s a portrait of abundance squeezed into intimate spaces, where every corner holds a story and indulgence feels both spontaneous and intentional.
in this basket:
• a recorD of our choosing
• taper canDles
moro blooD oranges
• passion fruit
• sWeet limes
• a hanDful of grapes
• satsumas
• pomegranate
JorDanian Dates
• tarDiVo
• rosa Del Veneto
• shallot
• anchoVies in oliVe oil
• siesta co. Jamon iberico
• terre Di san Vito pomoDori secchi & carrot Jam marinateD oliVes
• french breakfast raDishes
• focaccia by sheena otto
nEW PurvEyors & PArTnErs
Who exemplify quality anD intentionality
la salumina
Eleanor, a New Yorker, met Gianpiero, a Southern Italian, in Siena—she was mastering salumi, he was running a restaurant. Love blossomed, and so did their craft. Now in New York, they honor every part of the pig, source ethically, and cure with integrity, passion, and just the right amount of spice.
siesta co.
The first lunch I had with Carlos & Lucia at their home in Los Angeles was about four hours. The second, at their family home on the seaside of Valencia, was about eight. That is everything you need to know about their provisions. They’re not just a taste of Spain — they’re a taste of slowness and intentionality.
saxelby cheesemongers
Anthony Bourdain said, “You have to be a romantic to invest yourself, your money, and your time in cheese.” Enter Anne Saxelby—the Warren Bufwett of cheese—whose legacy lives on through her husband Patrick. Saxelby Cheesemongers curates seasonal cheeses that reveal the alchemy of the cave. We emerge with this notion: let us eat and grow rich.
THE gif T of dAily
riTuAls
items that offer the opportunity to ritualize the munDane
1. Olive Oil
A wellness shot, $68
2. Black Salt
For a touch of sprezzatura, $10
3. Carrot Jam
Just a kiss of sweetness for when the demons cravings come, $12
4. Sun-Dried Tomato Jam
A reminder of how time shapes us, $12
4. Tuna Belly
Simple salads are sacred, make yours extraordinary, $16
5. Sardines
Give umami meaning, $12
a leisurely stroll in c entral park
Yours for free
alimentari sprea D s
A Thoughtfully Arranged Spread of Simple Indulgences Starting at $95 per person
a sprea D & gentle hospitality
Our Decadent Feast & a Team of Dedicated Servers
Starting at $125 per person
an e V ening of simple in D ulgences
A Feast, Dedicated Servers, Wines, and a Classic Cocktail starting at $150 per person
full ser V ice hospitality
Our Indulgent Feast, our Bar Program, Rentals, and Design
Starting at $200 per person
hospitality D esign
More than an event—an atmosphere, an ethos, an invitation. This package curates every sensory element—from tablescapes to lighting, from flow to flavor—to create environments that don’t just impress but linger in memory. Starting at $250 per person
PleasurE’s sAkE for
Written by Daniel emilio soares
I knew I was horny on main the moment I bit into a fig. Its moist red flesh, nectar dripping, flavor exploding in my mouth—was I cumming, or was the fig? It was simply divine.
While it’s always been de rigueur for precocious, curly-haired Italian teens to be transfixed by forbidden fruit, I find it utterly demoralizing that the art of sensual produce is still lost on les Américains. James Baldwin wrote in The Fire Next Time, “To be sensual, I think, is to respect and rejoice in the force of life, of life itself, and to be present in all that one does, from the effort of loving to the breaking of bread. It will be a great day for America, incidentally, when we begin to eat bread again, instead of the blasphemous and tasteless foam rubber that we have substituted for it. And I am not being frivolous now, either. Something very sinister happens to the people of a country when they begin to distrust their own reactions as deeply as they do here, and become as joyless as they have become.”
And there it is. The indictment. As Americans, we have a deeply corrosive, detached relationship with pleasure and desire. We’ve not been taught to sensualize the minutiae of everyday life, to find romance in the leaves of a satsuma, the syrupy sweetness of a fig, or the juice of a gently caressed... persimmon.
How do we change? How do we embrace the liberating nature of being horny on main?
It will take time, as all good things do. There will be awkward trials and tribulations— Oscar Wilde can attest. A man who wrote with the elegance of a glass of absinthe, intoxicated by beauty, punished for loving too extravagantly, too publicly. But I do believe—no, I know—that with just a taste of a perfectly ripened fig, we can inch closer to a world where lovers share vulnerability in the kitchen, where shirts are left unbuttoned, cuffs rolled, tomatoes roasted slowly, and desire is allowed to marinate. A world where quality isn’t just a word slapped on packaging, but something believed because it has been tasted.
THE sACrEd & simPle
(noTEs from A flânEur)
Written by skye spalDing
When asked to not only design this catalogue but also craft a sort of personal manifesto to the tune of an Alimentari Flâneur rebirth, I came to recognize the inherent challenges of celebrating simplicity, and all the ways contentment can be found within it, while we also aim to sell you elaborate baskets. But bare with me. Two things can be true. The juice is worth the squeeze.
This publication is the beginning of a new chapter; it’s an invitation to immerse ourselves in a world of our own creation, one that values intentionality, sensuality, vulnerability, in a culture that is increasingly rejecting these ideals in favor of expediency, rigidity, and guardedness. Daniel stands at the front lines of this battle, like his grandfather before him, feeding beautiful, romance-starved, women grapes. Inviting her to stand still for a moment, close her eyes, and enjoy. Artfully toeing the line between passion and pragmatism. He draws in those who recognize the cultural death of pleasure and gracefully extends his pursuit for those who haven’t come to realize it yet. He also sells the grapes. What we really are here to offer you is a shift in perspective.
Tweeted in reference to an image of light refracting through a humble Evian bottle, the phrase “There are cathedrals everywhere for those with eyes to see” has permeated through chronically online circles. I find this sentiment and the neighboring Venn diagram to be at the core of a Flâneur’s values. While we can’t all afford this title—of one who wanders aimlessly, observing and exploring with no destination (some of us have jobs, you know)— anyone can find beauty in the everyday, in the most ordinary moments. Looking beyond
functionality or usefulness, divine radiance can be found everywhere, in something as simple as a water bottle. While it may sound naive, this attention to detail is the surest path forward to feeling at peace with your existence.
It’s waking up to the smell of someone who loves you making scrambled eggs, noticing the quiet intimacy of two lovers’ intertwined fingers across from you on the subway, admiring a stylish elder dressed in their finest, and marveling at how beautiful the passage of time settles on someone who doesn’t let age define them.
Sometimes in an attempt to create structure or explanation for our existence, we humans burden ourselves with the big questions: Who am I? Why am I here? What am I looking for? Valid questions but who sincerely has The Answers before they reach the hindsight of old age? Instead, for the moment, let’s ask: What inspires me? What makes me curious? What brings me joy? The answers found here are the seeds for answering those big questions down the road, so what’s the rush? We hinder and often punish ourselves trying to define the big picture when it isn’t fully formed yet, and we lose sight of the glorious detail that makes all of this something worth doing.
So I leave you with this: No matter what you do or who you are, the way you spend your days is how you live your life. Seek beauty in the ordinary, acknowledge it, and let it inspire you—perhaps for no other reason than once you truly start to look, you’ll realize what a shame it would be for it to go unnoticed. After all, there are cathedrals everywhere, let us show you what we’ve seen.
the Holy Romantic the Mundane the
THE deaTH of in TE n T ion AL i T y on THE grazing TA ble
Written by abby poWer
I can smell it—the love in the air—and it makes me want to wax poetic about the romance of the grazing table. I want to quote James Baldwin, who said “The role of the artist is exactly the same as the role of the lover. If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see.” The cynic in me is more moved by the words of Arthur Miller, who said “The job of the artist is to remind people of what they have chosen to forget.”
What people have chosen to forget, in this case, is that food is a sacred thing that demands to be indulged in responsibly. We all know, deep down, that a perfectly ripe bunch of grapes is a moment in time—one that required months of sunshine, nourishment from the vine and the soil, dozens of human hands tending, picking, packaging, transporting, and selling those grapes you callously throw away at the end of the night.
I promise, I wanted to talk about love. But when I think about what has become of the phenomenon of the grazing table, the only thing that comes to mind is how love has devolved into fetishization and simulacrum. Curated gluttony. Somewhere along the way, we became desensitized by the beauty of food and reduced it to a status symbol. Want to impress your guests with your impeccable taste? Head over to Whole Foods and fill your basket with prosciutto, salami, as much cheese as you can get your hands on, an assortment of olives, crackers (gluten-free), $10 potato chips, crème fraîche, sugar snap peas, baby carrots (organic), honeycrisp apples, and an ungodly amount of grapes. Watermelon in February? Why not! And it’s already sliced, too. Stop by Balthazar for a few baguettes, then Petrossian for a cheeky tin of caviar, maybe some truffle oil. Spend two hours artfully arranging it with as much lace and ribbon and as many candles as possible, then watch your guests eat not a single bite. The IG stories will look insane though.
Pardon my candour—but when I see people erecting these cathedrals of gross excess, it makes my skin crawl. Daniel Soares is partially to blame.
He didn’t invent the grazing table, but he did charm us all with his musings on decadence and greatness, the greatness of decadence, and the decadence of greatness. Abbondanza! In the early days of the Alimentari, when Daniel spoke of abundance, he was talking about how a table filled with seasonal produce reflects the exuberance and complexity of nature—the cycles of growth, harvest, and decay. But over the last few years, this intentionality collapsed. A quality fruit and vegetable market became a Sexy European Lifestyle Brand. Abundance became excess for excess’s sake. Virginal produce became seductive, low-hanging fruit. Daniel leaned into the thirst traps and the more he did, the farther he strayed from the ideals he learned from his grandfather. The sacred was eclipsed by the profane, and people ate it up.
Over the last few months, Daniel and I have been working to redefine what the Alimentari stands for—to answer the question: how do we return to the founding principles of Alimentari Flaneur? More on that soon. For now, we invite you to taste Vermont Shepherd’s Verano and Invierno cheeses side by side so you’ll understand how different a sheep’s milk tastes in the summer and winter. We serve you Culatello from La Salumina on a silver platter in the hope that you will appreciate the hands that made it. We put produce on a pedestal not just because it’s beautiful, but because its beauty is ephemeral and of the earth and it demands to be honored. We want you to be drawn into a glittering tray of Moonrise oysters on ice and not just take photos, but taste them. Feed them to your friends. Talk about them. Talk about anything. We do this because we understand that food is a sacred expression of romance and conviviality. But you already knew that.
Dear, Abby I fumbled the bag (badly) with my girl’s Christmas present, so I’m stressing about what to get her for Valentine’s Day. Love her to death, but she’s impossible to please. Any suggestions that don’t start with j- and end with -ewlery? — Restless Romeo
Dear Restless Romeo, Simple—don’t get her anything. Valentine’s Day is about shameless romantic gestures, not capitalism. Have her over for dinner. Go to Veniero’s and get an unfathomably large hunk of tiramisu. Light a single candle, turn on some D’Angelo, open a bottle of Barolo, cook a simple pasta, and make a mess feeding it to each other. Eat it with your hands, even. Save the tiramisu for breakfast.
If she’s not into that, she ain't the one, honey.
xx
vAlenTinEs HorosCPE
a business Doing pleasure: The stars, much like love, don’t promise clarity. They flicker, tease, illuminate just enough to pull you closer, but never enough to let you see the whole picture. Today, they whisper of longing, indulgence, and the sweet agony of wanting more.
aries: You are a fire that doesn’t ask for permission to burn. Someone will try to match your intensity today. Let them. But don’t dim yourself to make it easier. Love, after all, is a test of endurance.
leo: Your love is grand, cinematic, worthy of a sweeping score. But the best moments today won’t be the ones that make it to the highlight reel. The best moments will be the quiet ones, when no one is watching but you.
sag: You are restless, always searching, always moving. But love doesn’t have to feel like a destination. Let today be a long, winding road. Stay a little longer than you planned.
taurus: You are slow, deliberate, a lover of beauty and excess. Today, indulge. In a long meal, in the scent of someone’s skin lingering too long on your own, in the weight of their head on your shoulder. Time isn’t money—it’s pleasure.
Virgo: You seek precision, perfection, the right balance of tenderness and control. But love is a messy thing. Let it spill a little today. Let them see you undone.
cap: You build love like you build your life—with intention, discipline, a touch of stubbornness. But desire isn’t always practical. Let yourself want what you want, even if it doesn’t make sense.
libra: You are a connoisseur of romance, a collector of beautiful moments. But love isn’t a curated experience. It’s raw, a little unpolished, sometimes inconvenient. Lean into that.
gemini: Your mind moves faster than most can keep up with. But today is about stillness. Look into someone’s eyes and stay there a little longer than you’re used to. Let the silence work on you. Not everything needs to be said.
aquarius: You love from a distance, observing, analyzing, understanding before surrendering. But today isn’t about knowing—it’s about feeling. Let yourself be surprised.
cancer: You love like a homecooked meal—deep, nourishing, heavy with history. But tonight, let yourself be fed. Be taken care of. Be wanted without having to prove your worth.
scorpio: You crave depth, intensity, something that makes you feel alive. Tonight, let yourself be soft instead. Love isn’t just the heat—it’s also the warmth.
pisces: You are a dreamer, a poet, a believer in the kind of love that lingers like a perfume on a silk scarf. Today, your fantasy and reality might just meet. When they do, don’t hesitate.
Love, like a well-made meal, is best when savored. Whatever the stars have in store, take your time with it. Let it touch your lips, settle on your tongue, and melt into you.
Missed connection at Eataly Flatiron, we had a moment in the dried pasta section. Both of us were overwhelmed by the options, and we cracked a few jokes. I picked busciate. You picked tajarin. I made mine with almond pesto last night and wondered what you cooked with yours. Let’s discuss over orecchiette.
An Ina Garten looking for her Jeffrey and by that, I mean, I want a beautiful home in Southampton with a lush garden and a perfect kitchen. You’re not home at all during the week, but you’re extremely loyal and you tell me everything I cook is amazing... Because it is. (W, 33)
Mid-thirties man, handsome, European. Seeking an elegant, discreet woman who wants to have an affair like a real adult. All ages (18+) welcome.
WLW, 24, looking for an playmate who would like to hand-slice Jamon Iberico and feed it to me a few times a month. No experience necessary, but strongly preferred. I’ll supply the meat.
Career driven, backburner romantic, woman, 37, looking for titillating conversation, a kiss dripping in beaujolais, and to catch a fucking break.
P E rson A ls
for those looking for loVe in all the places, right or Wrong.
Man, 29, Seeks pleasure seeking gourmand with an insatiable appetite. I don’t do small plates or overpriced restaurants masquerading as wine bars.
Woman, 31, Recently took a pilates class that made me realize, without equivocation, that I am in fact, a lesbian. Seduce me?
Oyster Enthusiast Seeks Pearl, loves it raw and a little briny. Looking for someone who enjoys a slow savor and appreciates the finer things in life—like a perfectly chilled martini and a well-placed tease.
Dimes Square Survivor, Looking for Love (or at Least a Good Meal) I saw you across the bar, but I acted like I didn’t. We matched on Raya once, but neither of us messaged. You have an ambiguous creative job, and I have a tote bag that says something about my taste level. Let’s make out over a plate of overpriced olives and act like this isn’t just another chapter in the same tired book.
Burnt-Out Finance Intern Seeks Domination. Seeking a transition of power, off the corporate ladder and under your command. My hands are callous-free, but I’m eager to learn. Willing to be broken in. I crave the firm guidance of a woman who knows exactly what she wants
THErE is noTHing morE sPECTACular or rEsonAnT THAn Tiramisû.
TreaT HEr rigHT WiTH
giusEPPE's TIramIsû
1. breW your coffee, it Will neeD to be colD for laDy finger Dipping
2. separate the egg Whites from the yolks
2. beat the yolks With 1/4 cup sugar til they are creamy anD off-White
3. folD in the mascarpone to the beaten yolks
4. Whip the Whites With 1/4 cup sugar until they foam, continue Whipping until you haVe mountain peaks
5 fresh eggs 1/2 cup sugar coffee, qb* serVes 4-6 people
laDy fingers 3 cups mascarpone Dark cocoa poWDer
*(quanto basta, as much as is enough)
6. aDD the WhippeD Whites to the mascarpone cream
6. smear a Vessel of your choice With the mascarpone cream
7. then start layering coffee DippeD laDy fingers anD your mascarpone cream
8. coVer With a Dusting of Dark cocoa
9. let her rest in the friDge for at least 3 hours
THE vAlenTinE's dAy WE dEsErvE
morE of less: THE sof T sCrambled Egg mAnifEsTo
Written by Daniel emilio soares
Taking great pleasure in small offerings just may be the key to a more content and fulfilling life. But how? How do we begin to value more of less? Less of more—now that’s a torturous idea. We don’t nibble here—we indulge. So what does that mean? Are we condemned to a life of perpetual dissatisfaction because we find impracticality charming, perhaps even essential? Because the language we speak is abundance?
Surely, I am no glutton for punishment—but I am most certainly a glutton. And yes, this has gotten me into trouble. Constantly seduced by my delusions, a card-carrying member of the Stockholm Syndrome Society with vanity as my captor. With time, I’ve learned that I am no happier or more fulfilled with more of more. Nor am I content with less of more.
At the end of the day, I love to share—family style. Thus, more of less seemed like an idea I could pass around the table. But again, how? What is something I could give myself every single day that feels indulgent, expansive, and simple enough to be easily replicable? Something that teaches me to slow down and be present. Something that tempts me to veer off course—to quite literally, play with fire. Something that ultimately reveals the value of just the right amount of restraint.
The answer is soft scrambled eggs.
Yes, soft scrambled eggs—custardy, golden folds, trembling on the edge of collapse, still whispering of the heat that birthed them. They are nothing and everything all at once. A few eggs, a knob of butter, a pinch of salt—basic arithmetic, yet the sum exceeds its parts. They
demand your attention. You can’t rush them. You can’t look away. You stir slowly, endlessly, as if whispering to the eggs, It’s okay. Take your time.
Making soft scrambled eggs is a practice in presence. Too much heat and you scorch them into rubbery resignation; too little, and they remain liquid, refusing to become. They ask you to find that perfect in-between—the liminal space where transformation happens. Where patience meets pleasure. They are indulgent because they require care. Not expensive ingredients, not elaborate technique—just you, standing still, stirring gently. They don’t tolerate distraction. They seduce you into mindfulness, into feeling the weight of the spoon, the resistance of the curd as it forms, the sigh of butter melting into the folds.
And when you eat them—warm, tender, barely holding shape—it’s not just breakfast. It’s an offering. A small rebellion against the rush, the noise, the insatiable hunger for more. They remind you that luxury isn’t about excess, it’s about attention.
Soft scrambled eggs taught me that abundance isn’t measured in quantity. It’s found in the depth of experience. In the way something so simple can be so utterly captivating when you give it your full self. They are proof that more of less isn’t a compromise—it’s a choice. A delicious one.
So tomorrow morning, crack a few eggs. Add a pinch of salt. A little butter. Stir slowly. Watch closely. And when you take that first bite, don’t just taste the eggs—taste the time, the care, the restraint. Taste the more hidden in the less.
We liVe in a city that is begging you to think you Don't haVe enough, our Job is to reminD you that you haVe eVerything you neeD. abunDance is free.
