We All Deserve to Bloom

Monica Lewinsky and Camellias

This email was sent

October 17, 2025 8:30pm EDT

Is this your brand on Milled? Claim it.

Matte tone:

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 17TH, 2025

Camellias often remind me of the delicate, porcelain-faced geishas in Japanese paintings. They don’t like the sun, they’re incredibly delicate, and the world is fascinated by their exoticism. Like the geisha, they face the world in perfect white, shocking red, and sensual pinks.

In Japan, the Camellia is known as tsubaki. It symbolizes love, devotion, elegance, and the ephemeral nature of life. It's often associated not with the geisha, but with the samurai, because of the unique way its head falls off the stem all at once, rather than scattering petals one by one like a cherry blossom. This was seen as a dignified and noble way to die, mirroring the samurai's code of honor.

When I was a little boy, my mother planted long lines of Camellias in the space between our house and our garage in rural Australia. It was probably the only place on the entire farm where they could thrive — protected on both sides by high walls with a narrow path in between. Those trees grew strong and tall, and my childhood is punctuated with memories of the rose-like flowers in bright magenta, deep red, soft pink, and brilliant white — with their fluffy, pollen-rich centers of blinding yellow and leaves so shiny they looked freshly polished.

I have such happy memories of watching my mother water them in the cool of night, with the crickets singing and mosquitoes biting. As I grew older, I would water them too, knowing how much my mother loved them. I would pick buckets of the flowers and place them around the house. I am sure this is when my dad realized I did not want to play football — my head was 100% in the flowers, not the field.

The Camellia is proudly not the quarterback of the garden. It does not like the sun. It doesn’t need the attention of bees or hummingbirds in Summer. Unlike Roses, for example, it prefers to stay in the shade and flower when it’s ready. It blooms on its own, in its own unique way, away from view. It’s rare to see them thriving in L.A., given the sunshine, the heat, and their insatiable thirst for year-round water. Camellias have not evolved to survive anywhere. They remind us to find our own “protected place” where we can truly bloom, rather than trying to endure in harsh environments that are not made for us. Just like me not wanting to play football as a kid — they were a signal that it’s OK to bloom where others don’t.

As some of you know, I recently purchased my neighbors’ home and property. The home doesn’t interest me at all (and will be demolished to become a greenhouse), but the garden has always fascinated me. It’s covered in a canopy of mature oaks and the tallest pine trees in the area. There’s almost no direct sunlight, so at ground level it has become barren. For years, I thought it was a Camellia garden waiting to happen. Truthfully, I purchased the whole place so I could plant Camellias from Nuccio’s.

Nuccio’s is an iconic 90-year-old Altadena nursery specializing in the breeding and growing of rare Camellias and Azaleas. Martha Stewart was the first to tell me about Nuccio’s — in a tone that made me feel like it was a luxury brand I had somehow never heard of. She was here filming a TV commercial and asked if I would accompany her to pick out some varieties that she would fly back to her house in Connecticut. When we arrived, I was struck by the vast collection of these incredibly beautiful things, literally ten minutes from my home.

In January 2025, the Eaton Fire swept into the neighborhood, and the nursery’s old family home burned to the ground, as did several wooden outbuildings. Martha called me the night of the fire. Her first question was about my home; her second was about Nuccio’s — so legendary is the nursery in the imaginations of all of us who love the garden. The fire somehow spared thousands of plants arranged under a wood-lath structure covered with shade cloth. While most of the plants survived the fire, co-owner Jim Nuccio needs access — and lots of water — to keep them alive, neither of which is available. After 90 years of breeding and selling rare camellias and azaleas to customers all over the world, Nuccio’s Nurseries in Altadena is expected to close in a few months. I am going to try to rehome as many Camellias as possible, and Hank and the team have been preparing the soil for the trees.

This brings me to Monica Lewinsky, who has become a wonderful friend over the past few years. She called me a month ago and asked if we could join forces on a limited-edition candle, with all proceeds going to anti-bullying organizations. As you might know, Monica has been a strong social activist in the battle against cyberbullying and online harassment. I firmly believe everyone deserves to bloom on their own terms. I was bullied endlessly at school and know how that can change a person. I instantly said it should be a Camellia candle — because they are the “theatre kid” of the garden.

Our Blooming Camellia Candle launched yesterday, and it smells beautiful. It feels like sticking your nose into a fresh bud, where notes of fruit, cream, and musk appear all at once, anchored by White Camellia, Lemon, Vanilla, and Clove. One hundred percent of its proceeds will go to anti-bullying organizations committed to helping people thrive across the U.K., U.S.A., and Australia, including The Tyler Clementi Foundation, The Diana Award’s Anti-Bullying Program, PROJECT ROCKIT, and the Hetrick-Martin Institute.

The Camellia's popularity in Los Angeles was largely fueled by Japanese-American gardeners. Before World War II, many Japanese families owned farms and nurseries in Southern California. Japanese farmers once provided most of the produce in California and were instrumental in cultivating and introducing species, including rare varieties of camellias. When these families were forced into internment camps during the war, many had to sell their nurseries and plant collections for a fraction of their value. These farmers were on the receiving end of terrible discrimination snd very public bullying. Our Blooming Camellia Candle is as much tribute to them as it is anyone else.

Speaking of how we all deserve to bloom, this week we continue our October Farm Box collaboration with the legendary Chef Alice Waters. As you might know, Alice founded the Edible Schoolyard Project, which seeks to transform the school food experience for children worldwide. She has just launched an incredible new book called The School Lunch Revolution. In it, she reimagines the way we feed our children at school and at home. It’s with this principle that she approaches the Farm Boxes this month—guided by what school lunches should be: local, seasonal, diverse, simple, delicious, and beautiful.

It’s an incredible book, and we are including a copy in every Farm Box this week. In the box, you’ll also find her famous Baby Bok Choy and Tamari Sauce recipe, with the main ingredients you need to cook it at home: Baby Bok Choy, Tamari Sauce, Green and Red Dandelion, Lemon Verbena, Apples, Spaghetti Squash, Parsley, and so much more. We’ve also included the most delicious Blueberry Muffins from Sugarbloom Bakery. And in the Bloom Bundle, you’ll find Burgundy Amaranth and Hot Pink Celosia from our favorites, Carranza Family Farms.

Like the Camellia teaches us, we must bloom in our own way, in our own time. Here’s to that.

As always, cook a meal for someone you love.

x Richard

P.S. Martha and I will be speaking at the Kohler Food and Wine Festival in Wisconsin this weekend! Excited to see you all there.