Teda Zine Vol. 1

TEDAZINE VOL. 1

1

TABLE OF CONTENTS TEDA is a zine created by Katrina Dutt that serves as a repository for her photography, poems, and reflections on life. With an eye for beauty and a devout relationship to food, Katrina recounts travel tales, culinary revelries, and the wonders that ignite her senses. As you explore this inaugural edition, let TEDA arouse your senses.

COVER PHOTO

1

GREEN

4

CAFE PASSION

9

FIGHT BACK WITH THE BLUNT BLADE OF TIME

10

POEMS

BLUE

3

THE RELEASE

7

PHOTOS

ESSAYS

LEMON DAZE

IN PRAISE OF A CHURRO

SANTA FE LIMBS

2

PROJECTIONS ON THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE GOLDEN DELIGHT

1

5-6 8

TABLE OF CONTENTS TEDA is a zine created by Katrina Dutt that serves as a repository for her photography, poems, and reflections on life. With an eye for beauty and a devout relationship to food, Katrina recounts travel tales, culinary revelries, and the wonders that ignite her senses. As you explore this inaugural edition, let TEDA arouse your senses.

COVER PHOTO

1

GREEN

4

CAFE PASSION

9

FIGHT BACK WITH THE BLUNT BLADE OF TIME

10

POEMS

BLUE

3

THE RELEASE

7

PHOTOS

ESSAYS

LEMON DAZE

IN PRAISE OF A CHURRO

SANTA FE LIMBS

2

PROJECTIONS ON THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE GOLDEN DELIGHT

1

5-6 8

IN PRAISE OF THE CHURRO O

1

2

SANTA FE LIMBS

ne of the best parts of living in months, I have to maximize my churro a foreign country for a short, eating—once I retur n home, I’ll specified amount of time is that it’s never have them again!” It’s all the incredibly easy to justify unhealthy easier when they’re only a few euros. eating. Specifically, I’m talking about O f c o u r s e, t h i s l e a d s t o m o r e my great fondness for chocolate and rationalizations like “Okay, I’m churros during my 9 month stint in craving churros, so I’m going to go southern Spain. Before I even arrived, have some, but I’ll only order a few I remember learning about them in and not overindulge like last time!” the cultural section of my Spanish Ah, us humans always think the next textbook in high school and hoping time will be different. that one day, I’d get to try them.

As my time left in Southern Spain Churros are these delicious lengths d windles, I’m realizing (and of fried, barely-sweetened dough that justifying) that churros are about so you can dip in sugar or the luscious much more than fried dough. It’s chocolate that comes in a cup. They’re about the entire experience: watching so delicious, in fact, that the key is not the people pass by against the backdrop to eat so many that you can’t walk of the Mediterranean, speaking home, and I know from experience Spanish with the elderly gentlemen that this line is just a moving target, who serve me, learning that churro subject to the terrible irrationality of dough must change with the “just one more.” There are so many temperature and humidity, and variations on this beloved breakfast “THE TERRIBLY SHORT LIFESPAN OF A CHURRO IS ACTUALLY food: chewy and JUST A MECHANISM TO GET YOU TO EAT QUICKLY WITHOUT STOPPING TO QUESTION HOW MANY YOU’VE HAD.” dense, light and airy, thin and long, girthy and short, above all, experiencing a vital part dark, light, oily…my recent favorite of Spanish culture—slowing down. is one that is crispy on the outside with This is the pillar of Spanish culture just a thin shell to encase the airy, that I’m so reluctant to leave behind. souffle-like interior. This churro (like The churros lure me in, but it’s the all churros) must be eaten immediately warm feelings in my stomach, heart, when it’s hot and if you don’t, it becomes and soul that make me come back deflated and dejected in its own oiliness. for more.

The terribly short lifespan of a churro is actually just a mechanism to get you to eat quickly without stopping to question how many you’ve had.

And here is where you begin to rationalize your churro habit: “Since I’m only here in Spain for a few

IN PRAISE OF THE CHURRO O

1

2

SANTA FE LIMBS

ne of the best parts of living in months, I have to maximize my churro a foreign country for a short, eating—once I retur n home, I’ll specified amount of time is that it’s never have them again!” It’s all the incredibly easy to justify unhealthy easier when they’re only a few euros. eating. Specifically, I’m talking about O f c o u r s e, t h i s l e a d s t o m o r e my great fondness for chocolate and rationalizations like “Okay, I’m churros during my 9 month stint in craving churros, so I’m going to go southern Spain. Before I even arrived, have some, but I’ll only order a few I remember learning about them in and not overindulge like last time!” the cultural section of my Spanish Ah, us humans always think the next textbook in high school and hoping time will be different. that one day, I’d get to try them.

As my time left in Southern Spain Churros are these delicious lengths d windles, I’m realizing (and of fried, barely-sweetened dough that justifying) that churros are about so you can dip in sugar or the luscious much more than fried dough. It’s chocolate that comes in a cup. They’re about the entire experience: watching so delicious, in fact, that the key is not the people pass by against the backdrop to eat so many that you can’t walk of the Mediterranean, speaking home, and I know from experience Spanish with the elderly gentlemen that this line is just a moving target, who serve me, learning that churro subject to the terrible irrationality of dough must change with the “just one more.” There are so many temperature and humidity, and variations on this beloved breakfast “THE TERRIBLY SHORT LIFESPAN OF A CHURRO IS ACTUALLY food: chewy and JUST A MECHANISM TO GET YOU TO EAT QUICKLY WITHOUT STOPPING TO QUESTION HOW MANY YOU’VE HAD.” dense, light and airy, thin and long, girthy and short, above all, experiencing a vital part dark, light, oily…my recent favorite of Spanish culture—slowing down. is one that is crispy on the outside with This is the pillar of Spanish culture just a thin shell to encase the airy, that I’m so reluctant to leave behind. souffle-like interior. This churro (like The churros lure me in, but it’s the all churros) must be eaten immediately warm feelings in my stomach, heart, when it’s hot and if you don’t, it becomes and soul that make me come back deflated and dejected in its own oiliness. for more.

The terribly short lifespan of a churro is actually just a mechanism to get you to eat quickly without stopping to question how many you’ve had.

And here is where you begin to rationalize your churro habit: “Since I’m only here in Spain for a few

blue

green I

watch as sunlight spotlights a field on the other side of the small valley, turning it from grass and trees to liquid delight. I look away for a moment, but by the time I look back, the sun has moved its love to the next pasture.

This Asturian sun is an aloof, moody, and passionate lover who would never leave a toothbrush in anyone’s drawer.

One minute it’s fervently hot and focused, but the next, it’s already eyeing the next green field over, unashamedly leaving all past lovers longingly waiting for more.

I must say that I do an injustice to the landscape by merely calling it “green.” Green is so often reduced to a two-dimensional sense of the word.

What I’m experiencing is a multidimensional Green, one that has 3-D for m, yes, but also one that encompasses an array of varying textures, patterns, distances, and lightings of the valley before me. It’s also a Green that changes from one moment to the next, and I can’t seem to look away.

As Tom Robbins would say, it’s so “vivid” here, and I think it’s because

It feels like I’ve never seen this much blue sky After months of stone and gray blocking my vision, an almost unbounded sky— the winter kind: pale and a little more fragile— heals my soul

Driving, and the sun’s rays check in on me through my window I place my head in my lover’s lap I see his hand on the wheel his other caressing my breast

everything feels so alive. From the patches of wildflowers and the snails gliding up the roses to the sounds of eternal cowbells and birdsongs, this is a Green that includes uncountable lives. And it wouldn’t exist so verdantly if it weren’t for the keystone element that allows it all to thrive: water. This is probably obvious to a person who hasn’t lived in a desert their entire life, but to me, the rain is a spectacle. I also have a greater appreciation for how precious and life-giving the rain, dew, mist, and fog are here—the green cannot exist without its enduring partnership with the rain. And as much as I love the rain, my desert heart glows with joy when the clouds part to reveal a little blue sky that lets the sunlight caress the hills. I have a feeling that the Green also lives in patient anticipation for next one-night stand with the sun.

I close my eyes to melt into the moment, into the music, into the bliss A disco of orange and shadow on my eyelids

And every time I open my eyes blue sky all around out every window

3

4

blue

green I

watch as sunlight spotlights a field on the other side of the small valley, turning it from grass and trees to liquid delight. I look away for a moment, but by the time I look back, the sun has moved its love to the next pasture.

This Asturian sun is an aloof, moody, and passionate lover who would never leave a toothbrush in anyone’s drawer.

One minute it’s fervently hot and focused, but the next, it’s already eyeing the next green field over, unashamedly leaving all past lovers longingly waiting for more.

I must say that I do an injustice to the landscape by merely calling it “green.” Green is so often reduced to a two-dimensional sense of the word.

What I’m experiencing is a multidimensional Green, one that has 3-D for m, yes, but also one that encompasses an array of varying textures, patterns, distances, and lightings of the valley before me. It’s also a Green that changes from one moment to the next, and I can’t seem to look away.

As Tom Robbins would say, it’s so “vivid” here, and I think it’s because

It feels like I’ve never seen this much blue sky After months of stone and gray blocking my vision, an almost unbounded sky— the winter kind: pale and a little more fragile— heals my soul

Driving, and the sun’s rays check in on me through my window I place my head in my lover’s lap I see his hand on the wheel his other caressing my breast

everything feels so alive. From the patches of wildflowers and the snails gliding up the roses to the sounds of eternal cowbells and birdsongs, this is a Green that includes uncountable lives. And it wouldn’t exist so verdantly if it weren’t for the keystone element that allows it all to thrive: water. This is probably obvious to a person who hasn’t lived in a desert their entire life, but to me, the rain is a spectacle. I also have a greater appreciation for how precious and life-giving the rain, dew, mist, and fog are here—the green cannot exist without its enduring partnership with the rain. And as much as I love the rain, my desert heart glows with joy when the clouds part to reveal a little blue sky that lets the sunlight caress the hills. I have a feeling that the Green also lives in patient anticipation for next one-night stand with the sun.

I close my eyes to melt into the moment, into the music, into the bliss A disco of orange and shadow on my eyelids

And every time I open my eyes blue sky all around out every window

3

4

5 6

PROJECTIONS ON THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE

5 6

PROJECTIONS ON THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE

The Release I’d been keeping it in what, I didn’t know until I felt the pressure had built that week I said it in my head willed myself not to let it slip at the end of a phone call or after a parting kiss I questioned it was it too soon?

I didn’t want to say it first but one night it slipped out I didn’t know if you’d heard but it felt true and only a few nights later, your release the pressure in our bodies and minds dissolved as you admitted it with golden tears and I confessed Love cannot be contained

GOLDEN DELIGHT

7

8

The Release I’d been keeping it in what, I didn’t know until I felt the pressure had built that week I said it in my head willed myself not to let it slip at the end of a phone call or after a parting kiss I questioned it was it too soon?

I didn’t want to say it first but one night it slipped out I didn’t know if you’d heard but it felt true and only a few nights later, your release the pressure in our bodies and minds dissolved as you admitted it with golden tears and I confessed Love cannot be contained

GOLDEN DELIGHT

7

8

Fight Back with the Blunt Blade of Time!

CAFE PASSION I

undressed the cupcake slowly, the way I imagine an Italian would. Savoring every glance and every touch, I peeled the wrapper away. I didn’t rush it, for I know that matters of passion are best left to unfold naturally. The rich chocolate of the cake became more moist as it warmed to room temperature, and the swirled tower of the creamy peanut-buttery frosting became more and more luscious.

ime is so present in Italian life. It’s slower, it's more visceral, it's more powerful.

T This is not an uncommon observation about Italy, especially from an outsider, but that's because it seems to be true. It's easy to romanticize it along with the beautiful buildings and beautiful people and beautiful scenery, but after two months of living here, I do think that there's something special in the way Italians live. I know I'm generalizing and have my own biases, but my American brain is in awe of the inner workings of Italian time.

I love that there’s always time for a leisurely lunch between friends. There’s time to roll your own cigarettes and smoke them (sadly). There’s time to care greatly about your wine and olive oil and where and whom they come from. The time of day is marked by the enjoyment of a beverage: cappuccino, lunch wine, caffè, aperitivo, dinner wine, and everything in between.Even the hiking signs are in hours and minutes instead of the logical kilometrage.

In the US, time is a commodity that is stretched thin—in Italy, it is stretched out because it’s so valuable.

In the last two months, I have moved beyond merely observing daily life in the town of Perugia to exploring the more specialized, rural, and dedicated food producers in its region,Umbria. At each visit to a small farmer or food producer, I have seen the ways in which the past is ever-present in their lives. It’s clear that history and tradition permeate their lives today, influencing where they live, the way they cultivate their land, and their methods of production.

By the time I took the first taste, my mouth was watering from the sight of this classic American beauty. The cake was delicate and complemented by the frosting that hinted at peanut butter without overpowering it (or me). I invited a third flavor to the afternoon: a big-by-Italian-standards cappuccino. In a cafe owned by an American, I told myself that it was acceptable to drink my afternoon espresso with milk, despite what the locals say about reserving milky coffee for the morning. After all, this place advertises that it has breakFAST, implying the sad truth that we Americans are usually in a rush.

“IN THE US, TIME IS A COMMODITY THAT IS STRETCHED THIN—IN ITALY, IT IS STRETCHED OUT SO AS TO ENJOY IT TO THE FULLEST.”

While touring two different olive oil mills, I saw how the past impacts their operations today. At the first mill, tradition reigned; it was old, familial, and small: "We are tradition, and they are innovation" they said before I left for the second mill. This was true upon first glance, as the second mill’s buildings were modern, their branding colorful, the products more diversified, and the employees younger; however, after learning about this company that "honors the past but still innovates," I realized they have much more in common than they think: attention to the process, care for the land, and pride in the product. Their connections to the past run deep, and they share the fundamental value of honoring and preserving tradition.

But can tradition and the past constrain the present and the future? The owner of a saffron business, Zafferano e dintorni, shared that her family initially struggled to bring saffron to their local area because their neighbors didn’t think it was part of the valley’s hertitage.

Only after they found an ancient text that reported that saffron had been grown in the area could they convince their neighbors that it was worthwhile to revive the tradition of cultivating it. In this case, tradition was inhibiting innovation. On one hand, I find that this example and all the other Italian rules of food production can be limiting, yet on the other, I see how traditional ways of producing food should be protected and nurtured.

Just like local food producers in Italy and around the world, I am afraid of the powerful industrial food systems that can take over small, local agriculture.

After visiting Italian food producers, I wonder if growing ancient varieties of apples and harvesting saffron in the name of tradition is a crucial stronghold against the tyranny of the giant corporations and industrial farms. Is growing saffron as much a political stance as it is about producing a spice? Are the past and its traditions being used as a weapon against the future of factory farms ?

My gorgeous cupcake, lovely cappuccino and I spent a beautiful afternoon on a comfy couch together. Even though we were in plain view, I didn’t feel self-conscious about taking my time to appreciate them. I know that at least while I’m in Italy, I might as well love openly and deeply.

9 6

10

Fight Back with the Blunt Blade of Time!

CAFE PASSION I

undressed the cupcake slowly, the way I imagine an Italian would. Savoring every glance and every touch, I peeled the wrapper away. I didn’t rush it, for I know that matters of passion are best left to unfold naturally. The rich chocolate of the cake became more moist as it warmed to room temperature, and the swirled tower of the creamy peanut-buttery frosting became more and more luscious.

ime is so present in Italian life. It’s slower, it's more visceral, it's more powerful.

T This is not an uncommon observation about Italy, especially from an outsider, but that's because it seems to be true. It's easy to romanticize it along with the beautiful buildings and beautiful people and beautiful scenery, but after two months of living here, I do think that there's something special in the way Italians live. I know I'm generalizing and have my own biases, but my American brain is in awe of the inner workings of Italian time.

I love that there’s always time for a leisurely lunch between friends. There’s time to roll your own cigarettes and smoke them (sadly). There’s time to care greatly about your wine and olive oil and where and whom they come from. The time of day is marked by the enjoyment of a beverage: cappuccino, lunch wine, caffè, aperitivo, dinner wine, and everything in between.Even the hiking signs are in hours and minutes instead of the logical kilometrage.

In the US, time is a commodity that is stretched thin—in Italy, it is stretched out because it’s so valuable.

In the last two months, I have moved beyond merely observing daily life in the town of Perugia to exploring the more specialized, rural, and dedicated food producers in its region,Umbria. At each visit to a small farmer or food producer, I have seen the ways in which the past is ever-present in their lives. It’s clear that history and tradition permeate their lives today, influencing where they live, the way they cultivate their land, and their methods of production.

By the time I took the first taste, my mouth was watering from the sight of this classic American beauty. The cake was delicate and complemented by the frosting that hinted at peanut butter without overpowering it (or me). I invited a third flavor to the afternoon: a big-by-Italian-standards cappuccino. In a cafe owned by an American, I told myself that it was acceptable to drink my afternoon espresso with milk, despite what the locals say about reserving milky coffee for the morning. After all, this place advertises that it has breakFAST, implying the sad truth that we Americans are usually in a rush.

“IN THE US, TIME IS A COMMODITY THAT IS STRETCHED THIN—IN ITALY, IT IS STRETCHED OUT SO AS TO ENJOY IT TO THE FULLEST.”

While touring two different olive oil mills, I saw how the past impacts their operations today. At the first mill, tradition reigned; it was old, familial, and small: "We are tradition, and they are innovation" they said before I left for the second mill. This was true upon first glance, as the second mill’s buildings were modern, their branding colorful, the products more diversified, and the employees younger; however, after learning about this company that "honors the past but still innovates," I realized they have much more in common than they think: attention to the process, care for the land, and pride in the product. Their connections to the past run deep, and they share the fundamental value of honoring and preserving tradition.

But can tradition and the past constrain the present and the future? The owner of a saffron business, Zafferano e dintorni, shared that her family initially struggled to bring saffron to their local area because their neighbors didn’t think it was part of the valley’s hertitage.

Only after they found an ancient text that reported that saffron had been grown in the area could they convince their neighbors that it was worthwhile to revive the tradition of cultivating it. In this case, tradition was inhibiting innovation. On one hand, I find that this example and all the other Italian rules of food production can be limiting, yet on the other, I see how traditional ways of producing food should be protected and nurtured.

Just like local food producers in Italy and around the world, I am afraid of the powerful industrial food systems that can take over small, local agriculture.

After visiting Italian food producers, I wonder if growing ancient varieties of apples and harvesting saffron in the name of tradition is a crucial stronghold against the tyranny of the giant corporations and industrial farms. Is growing saffron as much a political stance as it is about producing a spice? Are the past and its traditions being used as a weapon against the future of factory farms ?

My gorgeous cupcake, lovely cappuccino and I spent a beautiful afternoon on a comfy couch together. Even though we were in plain view, I didn’t feel self-conscious about taking my time to appreciate them. I know that at least while I’m in Italy, I might as well love openly and deeply.

9 6

10

ABOUT Katrina is a sun goddess and mountain lover currently living in Gijón, Spain, with her partner. She is obsessed with tea, local flavors, creating new dishes, appreciating moments of beauty, and enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

Katrina cherishes the art of living. With a deep appreciation for the sensory pleasures in life, she savors the tang of tart flavors and the warmth of a good hug. She’s an excellent chef, talented classical pianist, ultimate frisbee player, slow traveler, and wise individual.

Katrina has her best thoughts when she’s out in nature, surrounded by trees, green, and water.

“Teda” has been Katrina’s nickname ever since her younger sister couldn’t pronounce her name properly. Somehow, it stuck!

Find more of her work on her website: https://www.katrinadutt. wixsite.com/katrinadutt.

11

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ABOUT Katrina is a sun goddess and mountain lover currently living in Gijón, Spain, with her partner. She is obsessed with tea, local flavors, creating new dishes, appreciating moments of beauty, and enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

Katrina cherishes the art of living. With a deep appreciation for the sensory pleasures in life, she savors the tang of tart flavors and the warmth of a good hug. She’s an excellent chef, talented classical pianist, ultimate frisbee player, slow traveler, and wise individual.

Katrina has her best thoughts when she’s out in nature, surrounded by trees, green, and water.

“Teda” has been Katrina’s nickname ever since her younger sister couldn’t pronounce her name properly. Somehow, it stuck!

Find more of her work on her website: https://www.katrinadutt. wixsite.com/katrinadutt.

11

7

AUTUMN 2023

TEDA VOL. 1 8