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Eater
02-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Eater
There Is No True Third Place
'I got completely and totally enamored with this new concept I saw in London,' writes Madeline Marcella in a Substack post titled 'My guide to: The rise of 'third spaces' in NYC...(no, members clubs don't count).' The concept is a wine bar that serves ice cream, an experience she says London offers and New York doesn't, a 'low-commitment space' where you can hang out with a friend without getting a full meal, where you don't 'wear pajamas' but don't have to get fully dressed up and can socialize without spending a fortune. Ignore the fact that you can order a drink with your ice cream at plenty of spots in New York. Marcella's post joins dozens of other recent articles, Reddit posts, and TikToks calling for the expansion of 'third spaces' (alternately called third places) in America — places that aren't work or home in which to spend leisure time. In 2024, Allie Volpe argued in Vox that third places were the antidote to the loneliness epidemic. That same year, Devika Rao in The Week lamented that third places are dying out. In the New York Times , Ephrat Livni chronicles how often 'third place' has come up in academic research over the past year, noting that COVID lockdown led to the closure of many businesses that counted as third places, and that virtual spaces cannot replace the experience of physical gathering. Most recently, Starbucks announced its intention to become a third place again. It's asking baristas to handwrite names on orders and is encouraging people to bring their own reusable mugs, policies Starbucks believes will make stores more welcoming for customers. Each new insistence on the importance of third places ends up muddying the definition of what a third place is. For some, it's a bar or restaurant where they can hang out with friends and community. For others, it's a park or somewhere else where socialization can happen for free. Third places are malls, or maybe they explicitly are not malls. In London, Third Space is the name of a luxury health club. A number of people think third places somehow only exist in Europe. Many other people have called for the development of more alcohol-free third places. For its part, Starbucks' adoption of the third space again comes with no longer giving out free water or allowing nonpaying customers to use the restroom, policies that would actually make it a space for everyone. The definition of a third place has always been broad. Sociologist Ray Oldenburg coined the term in 1989 in his book The Great Good Place . At its core, a third place is anywhere outside of the home or work where people can socialize in public, and where the nebulous concept of community is formed. They are places that don't require an appointment, are convenient and informal, and inexpensive enough to allow for one to potentially be a regular. Many of them tend to sell food and drink. 'In cities blessed with their own characteristic form of these Great Good Places,' such as in the cafes of Paris or the beer gardens of Germany, writes Oldenburg, 'the stranger feels at home — nay, is at home — whereas in cities without them, even the native does not feel at home.' Even in 1989, Oldenberg wrote about the decline in neighborhood taverns and soda fountains as synonymous with the decline in third places. But the recent fervor over the loss of third places seems to have created a new problem, where now there is No True Third Place. Every example that's offered is somehow not right, not enough, not built to facilitate the specific kind of experience that person is looking for, even though specific experiences aren't really what third spaces are about. So what do people want out of third-place socialization? According to Kelly Verel, the co-executive director for the organization Project for Public Spaces, 'there's a difference between defining just what [third places] are and then actually evaluating how well they're working as such.' Verel has focused much of her career on building and sustaining public food markets as places where people can gather and socialize, and not necessarily be pressured into spending money. But even when there is a commercial aspect to a third place, she says there are a few criteria to figure out if it's doing what it should. 'Is it accessible? Do people feel safe? Is it clean?,' she says. And most importantly, 'Do you notice people running into people that they didn't come with, but that they know and they're having an offhand conversation with?' A key aspect of any third place isn't just socialization, but spontaneous socialization. Sam Bail, founder of the New York pop-up Third Place Bar, says that's why bars have been such great examples. 'A lot of coffee shops have two tops, maybe couches, but you don't have the bar seating,' which encourages people to make small talk with the bartender, or at least be in closer physical proximity to people they may not have arrived with. You're more likely to strike up a conversation with a stranger, or at least share a story with the bartender, than if you were at a table alone. Many complaining about the lack of third places have latched onto the idea that a third place should be free, though that was never part of the original definition. For Verel, it's more about being 'free to be there, even if you're not going to be spending money,' such as at a greenmarket. This is another reason why bars and certain restaurants have been such successful third places. They are places you theoretically can linger. Theoretically. One problem is that spaces that should be third places aren't actually functioning as such. Grabbing a drink at a bar where it's totally acceptable to be wearing jeans and a sweatshirt is an option, I'd say, literally anywhere a bar exists. But if a cocktail is $20, that's not exactly accessible enough to visit at a regular cadence. If you don't consume alcohol and are uncomfortable in spaces that serve it, perhaps a third place could be tea at a local cafe. But unless that cafe is open until 2 a.m., or as Bail says, is designed to facilitate socialization, the experience may feel the same as having tea in your apartment. Marcella's Substack guide specifically lists bars where you can partake in other activities, like ticketed craft parties. But those violate Oldenburg's appointment rule, and also, isn't the point just to hang? Allowing people to 'hang' is where restaurants and bars run up against the realities of operating in a rampantly capitalist society, as anyone who's been shooed out of their reservation after 90 minutes can attest. Nursing one $8 drink for a whole night while you mingle and fraternize doesn't help a business keep the lights on. There are thin margins to running a restaurant or bar, and even though Starbucks is banking its new business model entirely on the idea that you should treat it as a third place, it feels like you literally have to be an international corporation to make this kind of third place model work. Bail began her pop-up to build the community and capital to one day open a nonalcoholic brick-and-mortar bar. But so far, the rent prices in New York have kept Third Place Bar from becoming a real third place. 'I do have regulars, but it isn't a third place in the sense that it's just there, and you can just go,' she says. Another obstacle is that even if every corner had a place to meet an interesting neighbor, that neighbor would still usually be a stranger, which increasingly makes many people nervous. Our ability to socialize was severely impacted by the COVID pandemic. 'Research on prisoners, astronauts and hermits has shown that isolation atrophies our social skills,' wrote Shaunice Ajiwe in Philadelphia Magazine . 'Now we, too, seem to have lost our grasp on basic interpersonal norms,' and sometimes even the wish to socialize in the first place. When I read articles and lists lamenting the lack of third places, I see a desire to have control over every public interaction. That means places where you know what you are going to be eating, or taking a class where you can be so focused on the task at hand you don't socialize at all. Those kinds of interactions are safe, and I can't really blame anyone for seeking safety right now. For many the risk of a spontaneous interaction is too big to take. Better go to a museum with your closest friends, or invite them to your house, where you can control the environment and not risk the awkwardness, or worse, of speaking to someone you don't already know and trust. This isn't just a problem of the pandemic. As Oldenburg writes in the preface to the second edition of The Great Good Place in 1996, 'strangers frighten us more than ever,' despite unexpected social interaction being the point of a third place. That is indeed how trusting, safe communities are built. In these informal settings, we learn to see each other not as consumers or hobbyists or people with particular interests, but just people. We don't actually want to be alone or unbothered. If we did, we'd just be doing crafts at home, instead of looking for Reddit threads about knitting circles at local bars. But 'I do think there is this tendency now to be uncomfortable with not having something to do,' says Verel. Hence the urge to whip out your phone instead of just being present in a place. You shouldn't have to want to make a new best friend every time you want to eat dinner, but again, this is what has made restaurants and bars such natural third places. You have an activity, but it's still communal. You can ask someone if they'd suggest the beer they're drinking, or ask the bartender how she's doing while she's mixing your cocktail, or you can read a book and make it clear you just want to be alone in public. Maybe as we fight to make sure third places can actually open and operate, we also need to remind ourselves how to be in them. And also that not every bar requires a cute outfit. The freshest news from the food world every day
National Observer
09-05-2025
- Entertainment
- National Observer
MOVIES: Rust with Alec Baldwin finally arrives but can't shake the accident he caused
The big news, shocker actually, in the movie world this week was Donald Trump's plan to impose a 100% tariff on some movies. So called runaway productions seem to be the main target. Films that could have been made in the US but went elsewhere to save money. Hello BC, Ontario and many other places. Think how often Vancouver has played Seattle, and Toronto has pretended to be Chicago. Marvel movies generally film in the UK. It goes on and on. How it'll work is not clear at all. The best outline of the plan that I've read so far is at the entertainment website DEADLINE which reported on the ideas Trump got from the actor Jon Voight (Midnight Cowboy, etc. etc.). You can read about them here: Hollywood North will hurt but so will the streamers like Netflix and the smaller independent films especially will really hurt. There'll be fewer of those made, I've seen predicted. Ironically several are on my list today, although I start with this: Rust: 3 Marcella: 3 ½ The Luckiest Man in America: 4 Clown in a Cornfield: 2 ½ Lucky Star: 3 ½ Unit 234: 3 Fight or Flight: 3 RUST: Alec Baldwin escaped the involuntary murder charge but his movie remains seriously damaged. Who can think about anything else but that he fired the gun that killed a woman cinematographer during the filming? How many want to see the film? That's too bad because, even though it has problems, it has some good ideas and nicely recreates the atmosphere of classic western movies. It starts like Shane and then shows a dark side of the old west, like Unforgiven, maybe. 'The only order that exists in this world is the order that we impose,' says one character. There's not enough in this story. Baldwin plays Harland Rust who has a sketchy and violent history but tries to atone by doing right. He breaks his grandson (Patrick Scott McDermott) out of jail to save him from hanging after a false conviction for accidentally shooting a rancher. Since he had had arguments with him, the court took the easy route and assumed it was a deliberate act. Rust offers to take him to Mexico and off they ride with a hopped-up sheriff's posse and fanatical bounty hunters in pursuit. The script brings in ideas that it doesn't integrate. A woman lawyer and distant relative (Frances Fisher) arrives but doesn't do much. There's talk on the ride south about Indian territory and wrongs done there, but only talk. And through the whole film there are biblical references, like a bounty hunter's assertion that he is 'God's angel of wrath.' Oddly, there's also a reference to Plato. And, of course, more gunplay, plus an ironic bit. Rust shows how to properly handle a gun. Joel Souza directed the film. Not all of it though. He was wounded by Baldwin's shot. (In theaters) 3 out of 5 MARCELLA: Many a home kitchen library contains the book Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking and it is cited as 'definitive.' The woman who wrote it, Marcella Hazan, is credited with teaching people in North America about the best of Italian cuisine and with her simple recipes learn how to cook it. This film tells you who she was. Born in Italy, worked as a teacher, brought to the US in the 1950s by the man she married, Victor Hazan, who had already been living there and met her when he went back for a visit. She had two science degrees but in the US her lack of English held her back. As a housewife she was eager to please her husband and learned to cook. That had always been inside her, she said, and just needed to come out. Then she held small cooking classes which Craig Claiborne at the New York Times noticed and promoted. Julia Child noticed too, introduced her to her publisher and Marcella, with her husband doing the writing, produced the first book that's become so classic. Those are bare facts, which include a return to Italy, for a while running a cooking class there and then a return to the US, to Florida. We get to appreciate what drove her. Part of that was overcoming a childhood accident that permanently maimed one of her hands. She refused to let that deter her, according to people in the film, including her son Giuliano, who has become a cookbook author himself. The other part was her love of Italian culture and food and her compulsion to see it done right. Foodies will love this film. (In theaters) 3 ½ out of 5 THE LUCKIEST MAN IN AMERICA: You'll have a very entertaining hour and half watching this true story and get a touching personal story as well. It's set in 1984 when a hapless overweight guy (Paul Walter Hauser ) who modestly describes himself as an air conditioning repair man and an ice cream truck driver applies to be a contestant on a CBS-TV game show called Press Your Luck. One of the producers (David Strathairn) recognizes a potential audience favorite and puts him on fast. He's watched the show often with his daughter. He knows it and starts winning. And keeps winning. Over $100,000 the last time I noticed. The TV executives are alarmed. How can he do it? Is he cheating? Can they forget the audience and stop him? While that's going on, we sense there's a story behind it all. During a break, he wanders into another studio and into a live interview where he talks about feeling rejected by people he loves. We later learn that appearing on the show is a solution for him, but in a surprising way. The film which started out light and comical turns plaintive and affecting. Samir Oliveros directed; Walton Goggins plays the show MC and there's an unexpected cameo by Johnny Knoxville, of all people. (Now available from several digital services) 4 out of 5 CLOWN IN A CORNFIELD: It was Roger Ebert who named the genre: 'the dead teenager movie.' It, and its variations, is back. A new Final Destination arrives next week, I Know What You Did Last Summer soon after, and this matter-of-course example, now. Teens go for them. They deal with generational divide, disrespect from adults and their own feelings of victimhood. What better way to show all that than getting them terrified and killing them off one by one. The deaths here aren't as graphic as in some of these films; they come suddenly and startle more than gross out. And they're often combined with or surrounded by humor. The film is milder than some, as directed by Eli Craig. He made it in Winnipeg, lives in Vancouver and incidentally, is a son of Sally Field. (Off topic, but fun to mention). Based on a popular novel, the film gives us Quinn (Katie Douglas) who, after her mother dies, moves with her dad from Philadelphia to a small mid-western town where he becomes the local doctor. She gets mixed up with a cool crowd at school including a rich boy (Carson MacCormac) and a blonde girl who resents her arrival. A teacher criticizes her unfairly and the local sheriff (Will Sasso, also from B.C.) advises her to stay away from that crowd. The problem is they mock the town, once the home of a syrup factory, now burned down. The teens produce U-tube videos showing its former mascot as a killer clown. Then it appears for real, first in a video, then in the cornfield where the teens go to play and then several at once coming out from the corn plants. The deaths follow but a later attempt to put a deeper meaning and explanation to all this is too sketchy. The killings are the main attraction. (In theaters) 2 ½ out of 5 LUCKY STAR: The Chinese are avid gamblers. By reputation anyway. This film based in Alberta takes up that idea as background to a family drama that could take place in any culture. That's even though the characters are all Chinese and the writer-director, Gillian McKercher, is half-Chinese. The story could resonate anywhere. The father in this family (Terry Chen) has been convinced to give up his gambling addiction. He's asked about it constantly and says, yes, he's not gone back. But as the owner of small repair shop, he's short of money and his problems just keep coming. His wife (Olivia Cheng) asks if he's paid the mortgage, the suggestion clearly is that he's liable to miss doing that. His car is towed and he can't get it back until he pays all his outstanding parking tickets. When he's pressed about what he owes on his income tax, he falls for a scam. He borrows money, sends it off but it disappears. That draws him back to gambling. He finds a high-stakes game but is warned that the host 'can be a hard ass.' The real crux of this story is what it does to his family. McKercher says in Chinese society that would be secret, not talked about outside. Here, the wife takes a stand. This is a very smart film with no easy answers. (In theaters) 3 ½ out of 5 UNIT 234: Do you like movies with twists and surprises? Check this one out because here they keep coming. Several people turn out not to be what you think. Incidents are not what they seem. And a note in the end credits could also qualify as a surprise. It says this is a Canadian film, set in Florida but filmed in the Cayman Islands. I wonder what Trump and Voight would think of that. The story takes place in a venue that's unusual in the movies: a self-storage facility. In one unit there a man found unconscious on a stretcher. He's got a wound; a kidney has been taken from him. The young woman who owns the place (Isabelle Fuhrman) and wants to keep it going to honor her father who left it to her is stuck working alone this weekend and having to deal with this problem. It immediately gets worse. Some thugs want the man's body; they're sent by a businessman played by Don Johnson and we think we know why because he's coughing repeatedly. When the comatose man (Jack Huston) comes to and asks 'Where am I?' we get his story, something about organ transplants for profit, his rare blood type and being passed from buyer to buyer. Even that doesn't explain much as we later find out. Or as one character says: 'We're all guilty of something.' The movie, directed by Andy Tennant, is improbable but compelling. (Video on demand) 3 out of 5 FIGHT OR FLIGHT: Here's a film that doesn't bother with sublety, character development or even explanation. Action is what is has to draw you in, from a frenetic fight on an airplane at the start to an over-the-top bit of ultraviolence at the end. And a mystery in between that's so improbable that it's almost absurd. But don't let that dissuade you. This is a brisk bit of fun. Josh Hartnett stars as a disgraced ex-intelligence agent for the US now moping and drinking in Bangkok. But the woman who caused his ouster from the CIA (Katee Sackhoff) now needs him back. She has no one else in Bangkok on short notice. She offers to clear his reputation if he just does this: get on a plane for San Francisco (a passport is e-mailed) and find a computer hacker called The Ghost who'll be on the same flight. Seem like everybody has heard that too and there are several assassins who'll also be on that plane. Josh has to keep the Ghost alive. It's the kind of story screenwriters dream up. First-time director James Madigan, who's background is in special effects, delivers it with a propulsive pace, lots of on-board intrigue and sprightly dialogue. Josh associates with two of the in-flight crew (Charithra Chandrand Danny Ashok)--who turn out to be suspicious--and fights off attacks by the assassins in various areas of the plane. Not much realism here but lots of action and comedy. (In theaters) 3 out of 5
IOL News
02-05-2025
- Entertainment
- IOL News
A mother's dark past fuels the gripping whodunit of her daughter's disappearance in 'The Stolen Girl'
Holliday Grainger as Rebecca Walsh and Denise Gough as Elisa Blix in 'The Stolen Girl'. Image: Supplied Whodunits are immediately lapped up by viewers. And it attracts more attention when it centres on a missing child à la 'Broadchurch', 'Marcella', 'True Detective' and 'Alert: Missing Persons Unit'. Disney+ recently dropped 'The Stolen Girl', a five-part series based on Alex Dahl's 2020 novel, 'Playdate'. The first episode transforms from calm to chaotic when Elisa Blix (Denise Gough) reluctantly agrees to let her daughter Lucia (Beatrice Cohen) sleep over at her new friend Josephine's house. After briefly meeting the mother, Rebecca Walsh (Holliday Grainger), Eliza, a flight attendant, drops off some of Lucia's things and makes arrangements to have her lawyer husband, Fred (Jim Sturgess), collect their daughter. The couple also share a son, George. However, when their attempts to reach Rebecca go unanswered the next day, the couple find themselves dealing with a parent's worst nightmare - a missing child. Elisa is devastated to learn that the home that Rebecca claimed to own was a short-let holiday home. It isn't long before the police launch a manhunt for the missing child while local journalist Selma Desai (Ambika Mod) takes a keen interest in the developing story. During the investigation, Elisa learns that Fred had an emotional affair with a woman he met online. But that's not all. They are in debt as he remortgaged their home. This becomes a sticky point for Elisa after they receive a ransom note. But it's a false lead. The unfolding narrative reveals Elisa's crucial role in resolving the case. And Selma leaves no stone unturned in finding out more about her, which includes visiting the religious community where Elisa was raised, interviewing her estranged mother and one of the locals. While Elisa uses social media as a way of reaching out to anyone who can assist with information, she is thrown for a loop by Selma's article, as she prefers to keep her past private. Unable to watch her so distraught, Fred threatens Selma's publication with legal action and gets her pulled by delving any further into Elisa's life. In the interim, Rebecca, who has changed her hair colour, has settled in a remote home in France. She convinces Lucia that she's her real mother and that her late husband Nicholas, who died in a car accident several years back, was her father. To ensure they don't raise any suspicions in the small town, Rebecca asks Lucia to introduce herself as Lulu-Rose. Ambika Mod as Selma Desai in 'The Stolen Girl' Image: Supplied Several weeks later, the police don't have much to go on except video footage of Lucia and the kidnapping vehicle. As the news of Lucia's disappearance spreads far and wide, Rebecca realises that they need to move again for fear of being caught. Meanwhile, Elisa, with the help of Selma, realises who the kidnapper is and leaves the city to go save her daughter before it's too late. Overall, this is a story of payback. Perhaps a little on the long-winded and frustrating side as it drags in getting to the nitty gritty, especially where the police are concerned. If you fancy yourself as an armchair detective, you will happily binge the series, which includes heavy themes around infidelity, sexual abuse, incest and religion. As emotions and reactions cloud judgment, the distinction between right and wrong becomes unclear, shaping a sequence of events that ultimately leads to accountability. Rating: 3/5 - solid and enjoyable series, though not groundbreaking. Below are recommendations for similar TV shows: Broadchurch A truly compelling series, bolstered by the casting of David Tennant and Olivia Colman. It centres on the murder of a young boy in a small coastal town, which attracts a media frenzy, threatening to tear the community apart. Alert: Missing Persons Unit When police officer Nikki Parker's son goes missing, she joins the LAPD's Missing Persons Unit to help other people find their loved ones. She works closely with her ex-husband on cases that hit close to home. Stars Scott Caan and Dania Ramirez.
Business Times
25-04-2025
- Business Times
Bali's first ‘zero-waste' eco-luxury hotel: Desa Potato Head
[BALI] At some point in the last decade, luxury found itself on a therapist's couch. Guilty about its plastic past, worried about its carbon footprint, and deeply conflicted about the pool towel situation, the industry needed a makeover. 'If we go zero-waste, can we still be a five-star hotel?' it wondered aloud. 'If the soap dispenser is upcycled, does it still say 'escape'? What kind of a paradise are we if we don't offer single-use straws and disposable room slippers?' If luxury had bothered to look East, or more specifically, South-east – or even more squarely at Bali, Indonesia – it would have learnt a thing or two from Desa Potato Head in Seminyak. Here, plastic straws are banned, the soap dispensers are upcycled, the room slippers are fully biodegradable, and the minibar offers mostly locally sourced drinks. Rooms feature recycled wood furnishings. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD It's a tropical beach resort, yes – but also an invitation to rethink how we live and what we leave behind. Surprisingly, all that 'guest re-education' hasn't stopped Potato Head from getting on the list of the World's 50 Best Hotels, both in 2023 and 2024 – a ranking decided by 600 jurors. Most of the other listed hotels are classic grande dames, where heritage and thread count matter more than the carbon costs of freighting moth orchids for their lift lobbies. Potato Head slipped past the gatekeepers of traditional luxury and grabbed a spot on the list – by redefining what hospitality might look like in a climate-conscious world. A NEWSLETTER FOR YOU Friday, 2 pm Lifestyle Our picks of the latest dining, travel and leisure options to treat yourself. Sign Up Sign Up Desa Potato Head made the World's 50 Best Hotel list in 2023 and 2024. What luxury leaves behind At a recent press event, international journalists were taken to – of all places – a 2,000 square metre waste facility. While they struggled to maintain their composure – mindful not to insult the workers quietly sorting through Bali's unsightly trash – Amanda Marcella, Potato Head's director of sustainability, explained how the island's trash has grown into a daily, visible reminder of the true cost of paradise. 'Bali generates 1.6 million tonnes of waste annually – more than what the government can manage,' she said. Hotels and businesses contribute around 12 per cent of that, and tourists generate 3.5 times more waste per day than locals. Approximately 50 per cent of all waste ends up illegally dumped, with an estimated 11 per cent eventually leaking into marine environments. A worker at the waste management facility. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD 'Instead of blaming the government, instead of asking them to do something, we want to do something about it ourselves,' Marcella said. 'We're part of the tourism economy – so we have to help solve the problems that we partly create.' In late 2024, Potato Head helped launch the Community Waste Project, whose central engine is the aforementioned waste facility processing waste from local businesses. 'We have seven partners, including beach clubs, hotels, and restaurants. We pick up the waste from the different properties, and separate the waste – organic waste goes to the pig farms or becomes compost; plastics are upcycled into products we sell or use at the hotel. 'The goal isn't just to manage waste but to inspire others to do it right.' The resort sorts its waste and repurposes over 99 per cent of it. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD Today, Potato Head has achieved just 0.5 per cent landfill waste – meaning only 0.5 per cent of all the waste it generates ends up in a landfill. According to a full audit by EcoMantra, almost all of Potato Head's waste is reused, recycled, composted, or otherwise managed sustainably, making the 15-year-old property Bali's first zero-waste luxury hotel. Waste is delicious The story continues in its kitchens where waste isn't just managed – it's marinated, pickled, fermented, and eventually served. Across Potato Head's six restaurants and bars, the team has committed to what they call 'upcycled menus' – an ambitious plan to ensure that by the end of 2025, at least 25 per cent of their dishes will be made from the by-products of the property itself. In the hands of their culinary R&D chef, Felix Schoener, leftovers aren't scraps – they're ingredients in waiting. Take, for example, the ginger pulp left over from juicing. In most hotel kitchens, that would go straight into the bin. Here, it finds a second life as ginger beer, ginger syrup, or even infused into arak to create an aromatic zero-waste cocktail. A quarter of the dishes are made from byproducts of the hotel. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD Unused egg whites from the bakery are reimagined as an umami-rich shoyu-style sauce. Fish scales – not typically the stuff of fine dining – are reborn as crisp, savoury crackers at Ijen, Indonesia's first zero-waste restaurant. And should you find yourself sipping on burnt bread kombucha at Dome, know that the sourdough was yesterday's breakfast, now reincarnated with a little help from fermentation and the transformative power of rice koji. 'Having worked in Michelin-starred restaurants around the world, I've seen firsthand how much food gets thrown away in the industry,' Schoener said. 'Here, the goal isn't just to reduce waste – it's to create flavour. Preservation techniques like fermentation or curing don't just save ingredients; they transform the dish into something extraordinary.' Potato Head's Ijen is Indonesia's first zero-waste restaurant. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD This isn't just culinary gimmickry. It's tied to a much larger ambition to heal Bali's food systems from the ground up – starting with the soil itself. The resort has helped over 110 local farmers transition from conventional to organic agriculture since 2024, part of its regenerative farming programme. The mission, as Marcella put it, is simple: 'To repair Bali's soil.' Synthetic fertilisers, Marcella explains, have long damaged the island's land and waterways, a side effect of the race to keep up with hyper-tourism. The hope is that by working directly with farmers – providing education, on-site training, and guaranteed crop absorption – Potato Head can help reshape the island's supply chain, one regenerative harvest at a time. A manifesto in concrete This ethos stretches beyond the kitchen. At Ijen, banana leaves replace plastic wrap, line-caught seafood arrives fresh from local fishers, and the dining room itself is a case study in reuse: terrazzo flooring flecked with broken plates and glass, seat cushions stuffed with foam salvaged from motorcycle seats, and drinking glasses fashioned from repurposed beer bottles. The resort turns the plastic waste it generates into coasters, soap dispensers, tissue holders and other objects for hotel use and sale. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD Of course, the entire Potato Head architecture and building design is as much a manifesto as the menu. The resort's newest annexe, Potato Head Studios, was conceived by the Dutch firm OMA, led by David Gianotten, in collaboration with celebrated Indonesian architect Andra Matin. The building's materials tell a story of thoughtful reuse: pink-hued concrete incorporates leftover bricks from the Potato Head's earlier Katamama Suites, while breezeblock walls cast intricate shadows reminiscent of Balinese Tika calendars. Ceiling panels woven from recycled plastic bottles and terrazzo floors made from repurposed concrete waste further underscore the resort's commitment to sustainability. Liina Klauss's popular art installation is made from 5,000 flip-flops left behind on Bali's beaches. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD Eco-mindful art installations punctuate the property: Nano Uhero's bamboo sculpture greets guests with the sound of gongs and a Balinese water blessing. Liina Klauss's much-Instagrammed 5,000 Lost Soles is created from 5,000 flip-flops discarded by tourists on Bali's beaches. At Potato Head, trash isn't something to hide. It's something to work with, to celebrate, to transform. The writer was a guest of Desa Potato Head
Business Times
23-04-2025
- Business Times
Bali's ‘zero-waste' eco-luxury hotel: Desa Potato Head
[BALI] At some point in the last decade, luxury found itself on a therapist's couch. Guilty about its plastic past, worried about its carbon footprint, and deeply conflicted about the pool towel situation, the industry needed a makeover. 'If we go zero-waste, can we still be a five-star hotel?' it wondered aloud. 'If the soap dispenser is upcycled, does it still say 'escape'? What kind of a paradise are we if we don't offer single-use straws and disposable room slippers?' If luxury had bothered to look East, or more specifically, South-east – or even more squarely at Bali, Indonesia – it would have learnt a thing or two from Desa Potato Head in Seminyak. Here, plastic straws are banned, the soap dispensers are upcycled, the room slippers are fully biodegradable, and the minibar offers mostly locally sourced drinks. Rooms feature recycled wood furnishings. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD It's a tropical beach resort, yes – but also an invitation to rethink how we live and what we leave behind. Surprisingly, all that 'guest re-education' hasn't stopped Potato Head from getting on the list of the World's 50 Best Hotels, both in 2023 and 2024 – a ranking decided by 600 jurors. Most of the other listed hotels are classic grande dames, where heritage and thread count matter more than the carbon costs of freighting moth orchids for their lift lobbies. Potato Head slipped past the gatekeepers of traditional luxury and grabbed a spot on the list – by redefining what hospitality might look like in a climate-conscious world. A NEWSLETTER FOR YOU Friday, 2 pm Lifestyle Our picks of the latest dining, travel and leisure options to treat yourself. Sign Up Sign Up Desa Potato Head made the World's 50 Best Hotel list in 2023 and 2024. What luxury leaves behind At a recent press event, international journalists were taken to – of all places – a 2,000 square metre waste facility. While they struggled to maintain their composure – mindful not to insult the workers quietly sorting through Bali's unsightly trash – Amanda Marcella, Potato Head's director of sustainability, explained how the island's trash has grown into a daily, visible reminder of the true cost of paradise. 'Bali generates 1.6 million tonnes of waste annually – more than what the government can manage,' she said. Hotels and businesses contribute around 12 per cent of that, and tourists generate 3.5 times more waste per day than locals. Approximately 50 per cent of all waste ends up illegally dumped, with an estimated 11 per cent eventually leaking into marine environments. A worker at the waste management facility. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD 'Instead of blaming the government, instead of asking them to do something, we want to do something about it ourselves,' Marcella said. 'We're part of the tourism economy – so we have to help solve the problems that we partly create.' In late 2024, Potato Head helped launch the Community Waste Project, whose central engine is the aforementioned waste facility processing waste from local businesses. 'We have seven partners, including beach clubs, hotels, and restaurants. We pick up the waste from the different properties, and separate the waste – organic waste goes to the pig farms or becomes compost; plastics are upcycled into products we sell or use at the hotel. 'The goal isn't just to manage waste but to inspire others to do it right.' The resort sorts its waste and repurposes over 99 per cent of it. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD Today, Potato Head has achieved just 0.5 per cent landfill waste – meaning only 0.5 per cent of all the waste it generates ends up in a landfill. According to a full audit by EcoMantra, almost all of Potato Head's waste is reused, recycled, composted, or otherwise managed sustainably, making the 15-year-old property Bali's first zero-waste luxury hotel. Waste is delicious The story continues in its kitchens where waste isn't just managed – it's marinated, pickled, fermented, and eventually served. Across Potato Head's six restaurants and bars, the team has committed to what they call 'upcycled menus' – an ambitious plan to ensure that by the end of 2025, at least 25 per cent of their dishes will be made from the by-products of the property itself. In the hands of their culinary R&D chef, Felix Schoener, leftovers aren't scraps – they're ingredients in waiting. Take, for example, the ginger pulp left over from juicing. In most hotel kitchens, that would go straight into the bin. Here, it finds a second life as ginger beer, ginger syrup, or even infused into arak to create an aromatic zero-waste cocktail. A quarter of the dishes are made from byproducts of the hotel. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD Unused egg whites from the bakery are reimagined as an umami-rich shoyu-style sauce. Fish scales – not typically the stuff of fine dining – are reborn as crisp, savoury crackers at Ijen, Indonesia's first zero-waste restaurant. And should you find yourself sipping on burnt bread kombucha at Dome, know that the sourdough was yesterday's breakfast, now reincarnated with a little help from fermentation and the transformative power of rice koji. 'Having worked in Michelin-starred restaurants around the world, I've seen firsthand how much food gets thrown away in the industry,' Schoener said. 'Here, the goal isn't just to reduce waste – it's to create flavour. Preservation techniques like fermentation or curing don't just save ingredients; they transform the dish into something extraordinary.' Potato Head's Ijen is Indonesia's first zero-waste restaurant. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD This isn't just culinary gimmickry. It's tied to a much larger ambition to heal Bali's food systems from the ground up – starting with the soil itself. The resort has helped over 110 local farmers transition from conventional to organic agriculture since 2024, part of its regenerative farming programme. The mission, as Marcella put it, is simple: 'To repair Bali's soil.' Synthetic fertilisers, Marcella explains, have long damaged the island's land and waterways, a side effect of the race to keep up with hyper-tourism. The hope is that by working directly with farmers – providing education, on-site training, and guaranteed crop absorption – Potato Head can help reshape the island's supply chain, one regenerative harvest at a time. A manifesto in concrete This ethos stretches beyond the kitchen. At Ijen, banana leaves replace plastic wrap, line-caught seafood arrives fresh from local fishers, and the dining room itself is a case study in reuse: terrazzo flooring flecked with broken plates and glass, seat cushions stuffed with foam salvaged from motorcycle seats, and drinking glasses fashioned from repurposed beer bottles. The resort turns the plastic waste it generates into coasters, soap dispensers, tissue holders and other objects for hotel use and sale. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD Of course, the entire Potato Head architecture and building design is as much a manifesto as the menu. The resort's newest annexe, Potato Head Studios, was conceived by the Dutch firm OMA, led by David Gianotten, in collaboration with celebrated Indonesian architect Andra Matin. The building's materials tell a story of thoughtful reuse: pink-hued concrete incorporates leftover bricks from the Potato Head's earlier Katamama Suites, while breezeblock walls cast intricate shadows reminiscent of Balinese Tika calendars. Ceiling panels woven from recycled plastic bottles and terrazzo floors made from repurposed concrete waste further underscore the resort's commitment to sustainability. Liina Klauss's popular art installation is made from 5,000 flip-flops left behind on Bali's beaches. PHOTO: DESA POTATO HEAD Eco-mindful art installations punctuate the property: Nano Uhero's bamboo sculpture greets guests with the sound of gongs and a Balinese water blessing. Liina Klauss's much-Instagrammed 5,000 Lost Soles is created from 5,000 flip-flops discarded by tourists on Bali's beaches. At Potato Head, trash isn't something to hide. It's something to work with, to celebrate, to transform. Visit
