1. “Fall in love with the problem, not the solution.”

2. “Complex problems require complex solutions.”

3. “Good things take time.”

Fall in love with the problem, not the solution.

In week one of the accelerator, I sat down with my mentor Jonathas to share our solution for GroceryRx. Our vision: a nutrition-based lifestyle intervention program integrated within The Community Grocer, where insurance providers pay for food the same way they pay for pills for neighbors suffering from chronic diet-related conditions.

He did not disagree with the solution. He asked why we were only focused on insurers. Is the problem a pipeline to insurance, or is the problem figuring out how more neighbors can access fresh, nutritious meals that support their health? Solve the problem. Stay flexible about the solution. If a funder wanted to support GroceryRx that was not an insurer, would we say no? Don’t get stuck with current solutions or ego. Be open to all the opportunities to adapt and to address the problem.

At The Community Grocer, we have been living by this mantra without ever putting it into words. We have been building a solution to ensure that fresh food is not just a luxury, but a part of everyday life for our community. We built the model five years ago with the support of the Harvard Food Law & Policy Clinic. We have adapted, shared, changed, and grown it ever since, because the goal was always to solve the problem instead of protecting a solution we liked.

We are in love with the problem: ensuring every community affected by food apartheid has access to the ingredients they need to live stronger, healthier lives.

Our solution: an ever-evolving reimagination of the corner store that integrates nutrition access, workforce development, local agriculture, community care, and health systems to make eating well easier for all.

Complex problems require complex solutions.

The feedback I received after the final pitch surprised me. It had nothing to do with the pitch or the slides. It was that I had understated the five years of hard work that got us to this point. The sleepless nights. The setbacks. The difficulty of bringing fresh food to underserved America while reimagining a food system that has been broken for decades.

Our work is complex. It aligns agriculture, workforce, health systems, community work, retail, advocacy, federal policy, and community care inside a 100-year-old building we bought without electricity, without plumbing, without walls. Here we are on the precipice of something huge, but it wasn’t easy to get here. Funders, friends, and partners shouldn’t think it was.

Jonathas said it best. Our work will never be an elevator pitch. It is a complex, well thought out solution that addresses every obstacle typically faced in the effort to ensure persistent nutrition access in low-income America. We have turned every obstacle over five years into an opportunity to learn, adapt, grow, and execute on our mission. Don’t be afraid to share that journey.

Good things take time.

If it is worth doing, then it will be done. Good things take time, and every win deserves to be celebrated. The accelerator was as much a moment of growth as it was of shared celebration and a reminder of the progress we have made so far. Without those celebrations along the way — good things would never be built.

So here I am celebrating some of our recent accomplishments:

1. We launched our pre-apprenticeship program, a scaled-down version of our 12-month apprenticeship. We have already taught young people, returning citizens, and neighbors with intellectual disabilities culinary skills and interpersonal skills for lifelong careers. Lee, one of our pre-apprentices still in high school told us that he “chose to join because I like helping people and cooking for people. Over the time I’ve been at TCG I’ve learned how to be more outgoing, open and mindful. The thing that excites me the most is that I get to continue to cook for people. I’ve learned that cooking doesn’t come from the body -- it comes from the heart.”

2. During the SNAP crisis, our team stood up an emergency meal distribution network. At its height, we served 1,000 neighbors a week with delicious, hot, healthy meal samples. We took in community feedback every step of the way as we refine our product offering for our upcoming launch.

   

3. We are transforming a 100-year-old building with deep community ties into a new standard of community care. I get frustrated when I look at everything that is not finished yet. Then I watch someone else walk in and see how much has already changed, and I remember to admire it too.

   

   

4. We published research. Our CHANGE study, a collaboration with neighbors and Penn Medicine has been published in multiple journals, understanding the barriers neighbors face to nutrition access, not just food access. Check it out here: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/19320248.2026.2661066

5. Our team. We went from two people and a community with a dream to a full-time staff of five, plus more than eight part-time employees/pre-apprentices, which brings us to 13. That number will grow past 30. Watching the team grow, watching us work together, watching us serve, has been one of my greatest joys.

   

Last but not least, a shout-out to my now fiancé Joey. Eight years together. She definitely knew that good things take time. I’m grateful that she waited for the good long enough to say “YES.” A life moment worth celebrating every day <3

Good things take time, so celebrate every win along the way. Complex problems require complex solutions, so don’t understate the work and expertise that’s gone into it. Fall in love with the problem, not the solution and always be willing to adapt and grow each step of the way.

Thank you to the Abbvie Foundation, the 2026 Health Equity Accelerator Cohort, the team at Matter for imparting these lessons and for so much more. Onwards & upwards,

E

Every Substack I donate 50% of proceeds to nonprofit organizations building a stronger, healthier future for all of us. I could not think of any better organizations to support than my cohort from the AbbVie Health Equity Accelerator. Please check them all out below:

Black Heart Association
Black Heart Association is expanding cardiovascular health equity through a community-centered model that delivers no-cost heart screenings, education and referrals in trusted local settings. By identifying risk factors — including genetic markers — and offering year-long clinical support, the organization is addressing disparities in heart health outcomes.

Grassroots Health
Grassroots Health embeds comprehensive health education into Title I middle schools throughout the school day. NCAA student-athletes serve as trained near-peer mentors and educators, delivering program curriculum in nutrition, sexual health and mental wellness literacy. This approach removes logistical and transportation barriers while increasing access to consistent, standards-aligned health education.

Health Justice Initiative
Health Justice Initiative is breaking down medical, legal and bureaucratic barriers that limit access to essential care. By training local advocates to help residents navigate complex systems and providing free legal representation through a network of pro-bono attorneys, the organization ensures that socioeconomic status does not determine health outcomes.

MedCycle Network
MedCycle Network is closing care gaps by redirecting usable hospital surplus to safety-net clinics. Its AI-enabled circular supply chain matches real-time clinic demand with available medical supply inventory, helping stabilize operations and enabling providers to expand care for the communities they serve.

SPEAK
SPEAK is addressing a critical shortage of culturally responsive mental health care in Asian American and Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander (AANHPI) communities by training community leaders to deliver micro-interventions. By treating mental wellness as a shared community responsibility, SPEAK helps reduce stigma and break down barriers that prevent families from seeking care.

The Community Grocer
The Community Grocer is reinventing the corner store as integrated health infrastructure by combining SNAP-eligible nutrition access with a revolutionary hot meal exchange approved by the Harvard Food Law Policy Clinic & the USDA, a workforce development program and direct health system partnerships — creating a replicable model where food becomes medicine and community infrastructure becomes a hub of community care and local resilience.

Share A substack with Eli Moraru

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Although he did not have a Substack, Franklin often wrote under pseudonyms to influence public policy. In 1735, writing as “A.A.” in the Gazette, he advocated for the creation of America’s first volunteer fire company to prevent the costly blazes that burned entire cities to the ground. His argument, at its core, was simple:

“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.”

Over 250 years later, we are still learning this lesson, this time not from literal fires, but from the slow-burning crisis consuming our healthcare system.

Today, poor diet alone accounts for $50.4 billion in annual healthcare spending, representing 18.2% of all costs tied to heart disease, stroke, and type 2 diabetes. In the wealthiest country in the history of the world, malnutrition, food insecurity, and food apartheid have fueled preventable deaths. Our healthcare system was just not wired to holistically care for patients, long before they detected any illness. Instead of prevention, it’s built for treatment. But the healthcare system can and should extend beyond the hospital; when prevention is this clearly within reach, relying on treatment alone is as expensive as it is ineffective.

A recent study of MassHealth’s Medicaid reforms provides real data on what upstream investment can do: Nutrition support programs reduced hospitalizations by 23% and emergency department visits by 13% among participants. When they integrated social needs like nutrition and housing into healthcare delivery, Mass saved $512 million over five years, and projected $962 million in savings over ten years. That’s a return of $1.35 for every dollar invested.

Franklin understood intuitively what Mass Health has just shown us empirically. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

That’s the core of the work we do at The Community Grocer. By building nutrition access in communities affected by food apartheid, we can fight and address the root causes of diet-related disease. We know that food is medicine. And we know that investing in permanent persistent nutrition access, paired with local economic development, rooted in community care, creates a closed loop that builds healthier neighborhoods, generates jobs, improves health outcomes, ties communities together, and saves money. But now we just need to invest in the solutions that prevent the fires from starting in the first place, and put intention into those dollars to support entire communities from soil to supper.

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Each month, I donate 50% of my Substack proceeds to support nonprofit organizations making the world a better place. For a more personal reason, proceeds from this article will be donated to The Veterinary Care Foundation.

This past month, my cat Machiavelli had a major health scare and spent the better part of 3 days in the VEG Emergency Room. Thanks to the incredible team at VEG he is feeling much better, and luckily I had pet insurance through Lemonade (highly recommend) to be able to pay for the care he needed. If I didn’t have this insurance, I wouldn’t have been able to afford his care.

The Veterinary Care Foundation comes in to support folks who cannot afford the care their pets need, to ensure every pet gets the same quality of care that Machiavelli got.

Machiavelli in the ER after he knocked his food bowl everywhere.

Machiavelli spending some time with his VEG doctor going over his care plan.

A happy and healthy Machiavelli back at home.

According to my Belli app, I’ve been to over 200 restaurants in Philadelphia over the last 8 years. As a self-proclaimed unofficial (Ph)ood ambassador of the City of Brotherly Love, I am always preaching about the unique, diversified, and incredible food scene in the city I call home.

But instead of another list of top restaurants in the city based on cuisine, price, or neighborhood — I decided to share with you my top 10 most joyful bites over the last 8 years. They may not be all be winning Michelin’s (although some of them will be), but instead evoked true joy throughout the experience.

Check it out, let me know what you think in the comments, and apologies for the lateness on my regular posting.

Joy • a feeling of great pleasure and happiness.

Joyful Scale:

😊 = Happy

😊😊 = Pure Bliss

😊😊😊 = Euphoria

1. The Pistachio Sticky Bun at K’Far - 😊😊

One bite of pure perfection. It’s sweet, it’s sticky, and just the right amount of denseness. This is pure bliss.

2. SALTED BRÛLÉE CÀ PHÊ at Caphe Roasters - 😊😊

My favorite coffee shop in the world. Period. Caphe Roasters can do no wrong. From their J St. Sando to their Vietnamese Coffee Tiramisu — I could live happy only going here for the rest of my life. Their Vietnamese latte is perfection, so when I ventured off my regular course to try their Salted Brulee Ca Phe — I was expecting to be annoyed with myself for veering off course. Instead, the first sip outdid the perfection of my normal Vietnamese Latte. It was sweet, it was salty, and it had enough caffeine to keep a sloth from sleeping for the rest of it’s life. In other words, pure bliss.

3. The Pastrami Breakfast Burrito at Middle Child Clubhouse - 😊😊

   

The Breakfast Burrito. My favorite food in the world. Middle Child Clubhouse - one of my favorite places in the world. Their vibe, their drinks, their food makes it one of my favorite dinners in the city (a must get martini x burger combo). But one bite into this monster of a burrito just always brings a smile to my face. Another bite of pure bliss.

4. The Reuben at Hershel’s East Side Deli - 😊😊

   

   Staying on the theme of pastrami. The reuben. Located in the heart of Reading Terminal it’s not a place I tend to go to. But one bite into this behemoth of a Reuben is enough to make me traverse the tourist filled aisles on any day of the week. It is everything a reuben should be… pure bliss.

5. Pho (specifically a large #12) at Pho 75 - 😊

   

   Wave for a table and sit down. Order the large number 12, hot tea, and Vietnamese coffee. 30 seconds later you have warm Pho for the soul. It makes me happy every single time. No notes.

6. The BLT at Middle Child - 😊😊😊

   

   If you lived in Philly long enough, you know the lore behind these massive BLT sandwiches at Middle Child. Local tomatoes, mayo, bacon, lettuce, and a line that never seems to end for just a few short weeks in the summer. The first time I had it, I was impressed, but not blown away. But then I went back later last summer to give it another go. Tweaks were made. Euphoria was achieved. A bacon mayo tomato jam of sorts with the perfect ratio of everything between two slices of bread. This bite was so Transcendental — even Dave P had to incorporate into his transcendental plan (IFYK).

   tran·scen·den·tal • relating to a spiritual or nonphysical realm.

7. Pizza at Char - 😊 😊

   

   It’s the best pizza in the city and the owner is 22. Get the caesar salad. Get the pizza. Enjoy a master at work. Truly the best pizza I’ve ever had.

8. Revolving Flavors at 1-900 Ice Cream - 😊

   

When I was a kid, I thought the best part about being an adult was that you could get ice cream whenever you wanted. When I became an adult - I learned that was true. Living across the street from 1-900 is the biggest blessing in the world. Their weekly rotating soft serve flavors blow my mind, and their ice cream sandwich is indeed perfection. Guaranteed happiness - even when it is 0 degrees outside.

9. Tiramisu at Scampi - 😊😊😊

   

   Scampi is a restaurant that feels more like dinner club with Chef Liz (she/rimp) creating wild new menus each month. The only thing that never leaves the menu is the Tiramisu (and for good reason). On the night I attended Scampi — it was a pasta only menu. After 6 courses of pasta, I was convinced I might explode. So when the Tiramisu came out (my favorite dessert) I almost didn’t try it. But then I did. And I literally cried. The best Tiramisu I have ever had. The crunchy corn flakes on top adding just the right amount of salt, every layer (spongecake instead of lady fingers) perfectly portioned. Euphoria.

10. Swiss Chard Gnocci at Vetri Cucina - 😊😊😊

    

    I cried. Like really. Yes it was after 6 glasses of wine with the most perfect wine pairing. Yes I was emotional as we celebrated my friend PJ’s college graduation. But it was one bite of buttery perfection into this Gnocci that brought the tears. Truly the best bite I have ever had. Pure joy.

Honorable Mention: Tabachoy - 😊

I didn’t know how to fit Tabachoy on this list. It wasn’t one bite, but just the entire experience. Laid back, delicious, and fun. Truly fun. I went for my birthday last year and between 2chainz playing in the background to the adobo, it was a joyful time.

I want to hear from you! Do you have a most joyful bite? Sound off in the comments and I'll add it to the list. We all need a little more joy.

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My word last year: awareness.

Awareness means being conscious of something—your thoughts, feelings, surroundings, or an issue. It's actively perceiving and responding to what's happening inside and outside you, giving you perspective and choice instead of being controlled by reactions.

• Being awake to what’s around you

• Knowing something exists or is occurring

• Recognizing your own thoughts and emotions

• Observing experiences without being overwhelmed by them

• Building this skill through practices like meditation for better mental control and well-being

In 2026 my guiding word is: presence.

Presence is the state of being somewhere. When you get an invitation that reads "Your presence is requested,” you are being asked to show up. Your style of being there — your demeanor or bearing — is also your presence.

In 2025 I was aware. Knowing my own emotions, seeing people and problems for what they were, understanding the complex systems that go into my work.

This manifested into a deeper understanding of our health systems, and ways to integrate our food system into this work. Awareness of my own limitations as a leader, and hiring incredible team members to fill in those gaps. Awareness of when things weren’t going well, and seeking support to get things back on track.

This past year, I often got caught up in my emotions instead of just observing them. While I was self-aware, that awareness sometimes pulled me away from being present with others, with my work, and handling what was in my control.

So in 2026, I will bring presence with me. Being aware of my own thoughts, while also being available and open to those around me. Taking time to slow down, to focus on the task at hand, and give my whole self to each moment.

As we return to work, to home, and to daily life in 2026; what will your guiding word be? Please share in the comments and come back in 2027 to see how this theme shaped your year :)

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As we end 2025 and enter 2026, I am also excited to share The Community Grocer’s 2025 Impact Report. It was a year of learning, growth, and struggle. The ups and downs of 2025 helped shape our organization to one that both met the moment while creating lasting systems wide change for a stronger, healthier tomorrow. Please give it a read, share it with your community, and consider joining our journey with a tax-deductible donation before the end of the year as we work to make eating well easier for all.

Tcg Impact Report2025

37.3MB ∙ PDF file

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Proceeds from this article will go towards supporting The Community Grocer to ensure everyone has access to the ingredients to live stronger, healthier lives.

“Eli shares how the idea emerged during the pandemic when he witnessed firsthand how broken the food system was, especially for people living in areas without full grocery stores and relying heavily on SNAP benefits. What started with delivering food quickly revealed deeper systemic problems: food deserts, ultra-processed corner-store dependence, and federal policies that make it nearly impossible for families to access hot, healthy meals.

Eli breaks down the complexities of SNAP’s “no hot food” rule, the history behind it, and why it no longer serves communities the way it was intended. He introduces the innovative “two premises” model that The Community Grocer uses to legally provide hot meals to SNAP recipients, bridging a gap that has existed for decades. Eli also highlights the voices of residents who made it clear that they wanted fresh options and culturally relevant foods, not more processed items that contribute to long-term health issues.

The episode goes deeper into the realities of funding, real estate barriers, and the skepticism that nonprofits often face when trying to build grocery stores in low-income neighborhoods. Eli walks us through the challenges with lenders and how his team eventually found their home in Southwest Philadelphia, earning the trust of residents and sparking national attention. From meetings with USDA leaders to partnerships with his local Congressman, the story captures how persistence, community involvement, and policy innovation came together to build a first-of-its-kind model.”

Timestamps

0:00 – Intro and welcome

1:06 – Where It All Began: Community Expertise & Environmental Justice

1:50 – Supporting the Community Through the Pandemic

4:18 – Corner Stores & SNAP Realities

5:25 – The Spark: Why Skittles Are Eligible, but Scrambled Eggs Aren’t

6:06 – Understanding the SNAP Policy Gap

10:51 – Introducing the Community Grocer Model

12:55 – How the Two-Unit Model Works

14:15 – The Chipotle-Style Meal Pickup

18:15 – The Viral Inquirer Article

24:03 – Entering the Food-as-Medicine Space

25:27 – Community Advisory Board, Ages 12–89, Shaping Research Questions

31:05 – Daily Hurdles, Faith, Federal Policies, Workforce Systems & Vision

31:36 – Discovery of the Hidden Bible in the Wall, Jeremiah 29:11

34:53 – Food Insecurity, Poverty & Systemic Inequality

37:35 – Civic Engagement & Rebuilding Hope Through Community Space

43:43 – Step-By-Step Vision: Open → Strengthen → Expand → Replicate

44:30 – How to reach Eli Moraru

46:01 – Episode Summary

"We are capable of anything. In other words - miracles can happen." - Raymond David Reeves

Ray was a former teacher, a vegetarian, an unmatched reader, and artist. He understood theology, philosophy, and literature with the depth that comes from years of study and lived experience. His art covered the sidewalk—complex stories artfully reinterpreted through multiple mediums and lenses.

The first time I stopped to meet Ray he was working on a piece that told the story of Cain & Abel. Like the biblical tale of two brothers—one whose offering was accepted and one whose was rejected—Ray's interpretation explored sacrifice, jealousy, and the complex nature of human connection. The story of the first brothers, the first murder, and perhaps the first lesson about seeing the humanity in others.

Ray had never sold his art. "It wasn't good enough for others," he said. But the work was extraordinary—layers of meaning woven within narratives that required both open eyes and theological understanding to fully grasp.

"Here is the head of Abel, the head of Cain—in the background a sheep, a lion, and a narrative woven within," Ray explained to me as he worked and I squatted. His philosophy about his craft was profound: "You're never in control and once you realize that, I felt better about that after a while, and it's kind of amazing. To be a vehicle of something supernatural. Art is supernatural."

"You're never in control and once you realize that, I felt better about that after a while, and it's kind of amazing. To be a vehicle of something supernatural. Art is supernatural." - Raymond David Reeves

Like Abel in his own artwork, Ray had wholeheartedly let his spirit take over each piece, offering it up with pure intention. Eventually, after weeks of pressure, Ray agreed to sell his Cain & Abel piece—but only when he felt it was finished, and only with the understanding that his work could be shared with others. This led to 40ArtUnder, a small effort that alongside my friend Lia helped raise funds for Ray's art and housing.

Ray chose to spend his days outside Smokey Joe's (the bar at which I worked and where I met Ray) even after securing semi-permanent housing, busing to his space late at night. He continued creating, teaching anyone willing to listen about literature, philosophy, religion, art, and spirituality. His limitless knowledge came from deep study and the kind of human experience that shapes wisdom.

Over time, I saw Ray less and less and in 2023, at the age 64, he passed away. He was survived by his sister, his art, and a community whose lives he had touched through his teaching and creativity.

Ray's art posed the question from his biblical interpretation: which brother do we choose to be—the one who sees others as competition or the one who offers with an open heart? His work reminds us that recognition of each other's humanity might be the most sacred offering of all.

Ray's piece now serves as a daily reminder in my home to truly see the people we encounter every day. To recognize the sacred humanity in each face, especially those we've trained ourselves to overlook.

—

The Art of Seeing in Professional Life

For those navigating the corporate landscape: How well do you truly know your colleagues, clients, and partners? We exchange pleasantries, share articles, and occasionally attempt surface-level ice breakers—yet remain strangers inhabiting the same spaces day after day.

What if meaningful connection could transform your professional relationships the way it transformed my relationship, friendship, and shared human experience with Ray?

Try this powerful exercise I learned at a conference in Palo Alto at your next meeting: "Please introduce yourself and share the story behind something you're wearing or carrying today that holds personal significance."

This simple invitation creates an extraordinary shift. That unassuming bracelet on your colleague's wrist? It might be her grandmother's, worn through three generations of resilient women. The unusual tie pin? Perhaps a symbol of overcoming tremendous adversity. The dog-eared book? Maybe the story that changed the trajectory of their life.

People infuse profound meaning into the objects they choose to carry through their days. These items often serve as physical anchors to their core values, heritage, hopes, and journeys. By inviting these stories into the professional space, you create an opportunity for authentic human connection that transcends transactional relationships.

I've witnessed reserved meeting participants light up when sharing the story behind a modest ring, and seen hardened CEO’s reveal unexpected vulnerability discussing a simple keychain. These moments don't just build rapport—they fundamentally shift how we perceive each other, creating the foundation for genuine collaboration, trust, and mutual respect.

Like my friendship with Ray, sometimes the most transformative connections begin with simply choosing to see what has been in front of us all along.

—

If Ray’s story resonated with you, please consider donating and subscribing to my substack. Proceeds from this article will be donated to Project HOME, an organization that empowers adults, children, and families to break the cycle of homelessness and poverty, to alleviate the underlying causes of poverty, and to enable all of us to attain our fullest potential as individuals and as members of the broader society.

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Join in the comments: This isn’t just a newsletter — it’s a growing network of builders, dreamers, and doers. Share your thoughts in the comments, connect with other readers, and help shape conversations around community-driven change and navigating the world as best we can. Do you have any exercises that help you SEE and connect with strangers? Let us know below.

This is a community who strive to see a better world around them, which is exactly why 50% of your annual subscription to my substack will go to charitable organizations building a stronger tomorrow.

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We've navigated federal policy, sparked national conversations, and worked together to bring a collective vision to reality—a journey with ups and downs that honestly feels divinely orchestrated.

The Bible verse above captures the essence of what The Community Grocer represents: a divine alignment of purpose, community, and hope. What started through conversations on a stoop in South Philadelphia has become a revolutionary approach to nutrition access that's changing how America thinks about corner stores, SNAP benefits, and community resilience.

This Substack is a shortish synopsis of the moments that have gotten us to where we are today and explains why I am quoting this bible verse exactly 12 years after my Bar Mitzvah (sorry Savta + Saba).

How It All Began

It was my junior year at Penn, the height of the pandemic, and I had been trapped in my off-campus house with 10 of my fraternity brothers. I had my Deloitte final round interview the next day and I was full of anxiety and Red Bull. How did I end up in the Deloitte Super Day? Yes, it was hundreds of hours of practicing consulting case studies (shout out Harley Davidson IYKYK), maybe it was the aftermath of COVID that had led me astray, or it was most likely that I only hung out with Wharton business majors and future consultants during the Covid lockdown, but regardless, here I was rehearsing my “Why Consulting” answer in the mirror for the 1,000th time.

I was nearing an anxiety attack when I attended my online lecture that day: Grit Lab with the world-renowned Angela Duckworth. The lesson that day? How to cultivate your passions. Her simple advice: do less of the things you don't like and do more of the things you do—eventually, you'll find your thing.

By the end of the three hour zoom class I knew I would never end up answering the infamous “Why Consulting” question ever again.

That next morning, just an hour before my interview, I rescinded my Deloitte internship application and ditched my corporate path. Despite the panic I felt in my gut of not having a summer internship (the worst thing possible for a Penn student in their junior year), I also felt relieved to not be sucked down a path I knew was not my own.

A Divine Coincidence

That same day—and I mean the exact same day—I saw an Instagram story from my fraternity brother Alex Imbot in the midst of my doom scrolling.

A D.C. native like myself, Alex's senior thesis had landed him on the cover of the Penn Almanac. His work with Charles and Tammy Reeves had transformed the lived experiences of neighbors who bordered the crude oil refinery into powerful, community-led data that ultimately helped shut down the oldest crude oil refinery in the United States—a facility that had been poisoning generations of South Philadelphians.

Charles Reeves Jr. and Tammy Jones Reeves were the leaders of The Resident Action Committee II in South Philadelphia—community organizers who had dedicated their lives to fighting for their neighbors' health and wellbeing. Their influence on our lives and the journey of The Community Grocer cannot be overstated. But more on them later.

On Alex's Instagram story: a call to action for volunteers to do voter registration work in South Philadelphia alongside the RAC2. As a political science major who had led Penn Leads the Vote two years prior and spent my high school years registering voters in Iowa, Virginia, and DC, I felt this Instagram story was posted just for me. With my next day free from consulting interviews, I swiped up to pledge my support. Do more of the things you like doing, and less of the things you don’t. Goodbye consulting interviews, hello volunteer work.

The next day I showed up, going door to door, double masked up, helping neighbors vote from home amidst the pandemic. After a few hours of somewhat successful voter registration work, I caught a neighbor on his way to work who wished to register to vote but didn’t have time that day. He asked if I could come back tomorrow. I said I could. The next day I showed up. Like Alex, I never left.

Building Trust, Building Community

I worked with Alex, Charles, and Tammy—who became family alongside other community leaders—to support neighbors throughout the pandemic: Zoom programs, park cleanups, sports leagues. After close to a year of trust and relationship building, we found ourselves on the corner of 30th and Moore, passing out government food boxes.

It was here, through these conversations, that we began to understand the reality of food access in Philadelphia and across this country.

The Corner Store Reality

Each week we stood on the corner without a budget or a dumpster, lugging around boxes of excess raw ingredients that didn't add up to recipes: a sack of potatoes and onions, raw chicken, milk, yogurt, and apples.

• For our elders, they couldn't even lift the 25-pound boxes, much less utilize an entire sack of potatoes in one week

• For our youth—what's a kid going to do with raw chicken?

• For our working mothers, these ingredients didn't add up to recipes—so even if they had the time, the kitchen, the knowledge to prepare these raw ingredients, the nearest grocery store to complete the recipe was two buses away, and the buses weren't even running during the pandemic.

It was here our neighbors said that they'd love to take a hot meal if we were giving them out—but these bulk raw ingredients didn't work on a consistent basis in their daily routines.

So where to go instead for food? Without judgment, we asked.

It was the corner store. Philadelphia has over 3,000 independently owned corner stores primarily selling ultra-processed items like chips and soda. These were the closest access points to food, and when convenience is key and our neighbors are already struggling amidst the pandemic—it was here where our youth, elders, and families would fuel up for Zoom school, our masked sports leagues, and everyday life.

We kept hearing the same things over and over. “I wish I could use my benefits for a hot, healthy delicious meal in my neighborhood — but I cannot.” Week after week we heard the same sentiments with frustration as each distribution day on 30th and Moore got longer and longer.

So we did our research. Why not?

Understanding Food Apartheid & SNAP Limitations

Here we were, standing on a corner in a city where almost 250,000 people lack access to nutritious food to live a healthy life, despite over 40% of food in this country being wasted. Philadelphia has one of the highest rates of food insecurity in the nation, with nearly 1 in 4 residents struggling to put food on the table.

Walk down any block in neighborhoods like ours, and you'll see corner store after corner store—but try finding fresh produce, lean proteins, or anything that could constitute a healthy meal. Instead, you'll find aisles packed with ultra-processed foods, sugary drinks, and snacks that might fill you up but won't nourish you.

So we asked, without a preconceived notion: What does your dream nutrition access look like? How would you like to access food?

Through these conversations on the corner, on the block, on the stoop, we kept hearing the same answer: "If there was a local store where I could use my benefits for a hot, healthy meal, I would."

The Policy Deep Dive

So we tried to understand the policy—how are Skittles and soda eligible for SNAP benefits, but not scrambled eggs? Right there on the corner of 30th and Moore, we looked up the Farm Bill—all 4,000 pages—and Command+F'd "SNAP."

The policy is clear: you cannot use your benefits for anything “hot or prepared for the intention of on-premise consumption.” We became obsessed with these weird words. What does "hot/prepared" actually mean?

A Wawa hoagie that's toasted is considered "hot," but somehow a Hot Pocket—frozen, baked, cured, and refrozen—is not considered "prepared." We saw the USDA guidance everywhere: "You buy, you fry prohibited"—meaning if I sold you raw chicken and then cooked it on premise after the point of sale, that's against the USDA’s policy and you as a retailer were at risk of losing your SNAP license at any moment.

The "You Buy, They Fry" Breakthrough

Then Alex said it so casually on one of those cold, rainy Mondays where we sat on the corner for hours on end: "What about 'you buy, they fry'?"

What if someone off-premise could prepare food for you—much like those markets in France? The more we looked into it, the less we found of anyone doing it. So from that corner, I got bold and cold-emailed the Harvard Food & Law Policy Clinic with these questions:

• "What does 'premises' mean?"

• "What does 'hot & prepared' mean?"

• "What about 'you buy, they fry'?"

They responded. Two months later, a memo arrived. We ran with it.

Looking at the case law of Sam's Club and the legal definition of premises, they found no basis to prevent our model—as long as we separated premises and businesses.

The Model

Two nonprofits:

1. One grocer selling an all-day menu of farm-fresh ingredient kits (like Hello Fresh)

2. Next door, off-premises, a separate nonprofit community kitchen that specializes in preparing those ingredients free of charge

This allows SNAP recipients to utilize their benefits to walk away with a hot meal. We took it and ran.

The Penn President's Prize Victory

Penn offers the President's Prize—a coveted award providing $100,000 in startup funds and a $50,000 living stipend for one year to build businesses that will improve the world. After 100 drafts of my 1,000-word proposal and hours of staring at myself in the mirror for my 5-minute pitch, we won.

Although $100,000 was just our fridge budget, it was the clout of the University that allowed us to bring this vision across the city.

Divine Interventions & Cosmic Connections

The LinkedIn Message That Changed Everything

As I scrolled LinkedIn, I saw an announcement: Domonique Goss has been appointed the new head of M&T Bank's Charitable Foundation, with a brief bio on her many professional successes.

So I cold LinkedIn messaged her—the new President of M&T Bank's charitable foundation on her first week on the job. A mother from Philly, she understood the realities of food deserts and growing up on SNAP—she wished she had a TCG growing up.

A few meetings later with Dom and Randy Kunkle, their CRA regional VP, they made their biggest first-time check ever: a $300,000 contribution. Big enough to catalyze an idea into reality.

The Flight to Germany

I was on a flight to Europe for a backpacking trip after graduating college. Six glasses of wine deep on the way to Germany, sitting next to a judge from Montgomery County, he asks: "What can I do to help?"

I mentioned we needed architects to build this retailer in compliance with federal policy. He happened to be going on a cycling trip for six weeks across Portugal with Richard Stokes—the premier architect in Philly who does all the best food service businesses across the city.

One meeting later, we had our pro bono architects.

Around the same time, through a connection of a connection of a connection, we got connected to Ballard Spahr—who came on as our pro bono lawyers for everything from filing our nonprofit status to real estate deals. To date, we've racked up over $1 million in pro-bono services.

The FMC Tower Connection

The FMC Tower—that giant tower in West Philly that belongs to an agri-sciences company—was a building we passed every week as Penn students on our way to Center City. I reached out via cold email to the head of their sustainability department, and she invited us to a meeting.

We showed up two weeks early to the meeting (as at this point I had a bad habit of using a handwritten calendar in which I often wrote the wrong dates or couldn't read my own chicken scratch). She still saw us.

Many months later and a lot of legal work, FMC came in as our second corporate sponsor, gaining a board seat and introducing us to players on Capitol Hill.

Finding Our Home

With all these partners rallying around us, we began looking for a property to bring this vision to life. But after the refinery shut down, there were no properties in South Philly that we could afford or find. So Mr. Reeves told us to bring the idea on the road.

Two white kids and Mr. Reeves in my Mini Cooper with DC plates driving around the city looking at old corner properties. The classic two feds + informant look. More than once people saw us pull up and immediately start running.

We were looking to find not just the building but the community that was ready to build it with us.

The Christmas Eve Flood

We found an old Chinese store on 67th Street that seemed perfect. Negotiations began with our lawyers from Ballard Spahr, plans were drawn by Stokes A+D. Five months of negotiation later, weeks away from making the deal go through, the pipes burst on Christmas Eve—flooding the whole place from top to bottom, ruining the building and the deal.

One Christmas Eve of tears later, we began our search anew.

Chef Aziza: The Perfect Match

We saw Chef Aziza Young—a dietitian, celebrity chef, and Eagles personal cook—on Fox29, and her energy was everything (even from the screen). So here I was, lying in bed at 10:30 PM, mid cold-DM (an important part of our success so far) to ask Aziza if she'd want to join the journey, when Alex calls me, interrupting my message.

He goes, "Do you know who we should reach out to?" I tell him to hold his thoughts as I think he is going to say the same person I am about to DM. It was.

Aziza responded immediately: "I was just driving through the city noticing all the corner stores and lack of good food and thought—we got to do something about this. I am in."

627 S. 60th Street

Aziza, Alex, Charles, Stokes A+D, our lawyers, and I kept looking across the city for a building and community to build it with us. We arrived at 627 S. 60th Street—and 6/27 is my birthday—a 100-year-old abandoned building in the 19143 zip code.

In the building, sacks of “coffee beans,” illegal construction work, and 20 different PPP loans in the mail slot. It was perfect.

It was zoned correctly, stripped to the studs, on a corner allowing for two entrances and two units, and priced in our range. But before we could even think of buying the building, we had to learn from our neighbors and share the collective vision we would have to build together.

Building Community

We spent six months, every day, volunteering and learning. Around the corner with Ms. T who runs Denise's Food Pantry down the block (which we now support and co-run every Friday). We spoke with church members and eventually the entire congregation after Pastor Herndon invited us to speak in front of the 1000-person congregation (two Jews from D.C., no less).

We worked with youth at Motivated CRC, played basketball on the street, and got our fair share of community feedback (more on this in a future article). Six months later, we had our answer—we were ready to build this together.

We bought the building in cash, without even knowing how much construction would cost. But it was our promise to the block and community that had been promised so much but delivered so little in the past that we were going to be there and figure it out together.

We held a "groundbreaking ceremony" despite having no money to break ground—just to show our neighbors and thank our partners that we were committed to this work and bringing this vision to reality—together.

Going Viral and Going National

The Inquirer came out, interviewed our neighbors for three hours about how we were building the dream retailer in the vision of our community in full compliance with federal policy. The title, unfortunately: "Penn Grads Find SNAP Hack."

It went viral. Sixteen million views overnight, with the whole country reaching out asking how to replicate our model, including the head of the USDA, our congress members, and the Department of Agriculture requesting meetings.

Off to D.C. we went.

A $2 Million Reality Check

At the same time, we got our construction cost: almost $2 million total to bring this vision to life. We knew philanthropy wasn't going to get us there in time, so we looked for a construction loan. M&T loved us but there was "zero percent" chance they could start a loan conversation with a startup nonprofit.

They sent us to CDFIs (Community Development Financial Institutions)—basically banks with a mission and risk appetite for riskier work for good. They loved the concept but couldn't do business.

First: "How do you run a community kitchen on grocery margins? The labor costs will never work."

Second: "How do your neighbors have the purchasing power to support this? SNAP is only $6 a day per person per household” and going down as we speak.

Despite 20,000 neighbors without proper retail access to nutrition, the enthusiasm of the neighborhood, and the novelty of our model, they didn't believe it—as low-wealth communities across this country, urban and rural, haven't supported this kind of food access for decades.

Federal Approval & Congressional Champions

So we headed to D.C., where we first met with Congressman Evans—a champion of food access and creator of the federal Fresh Food Financing Initiative. He saw us as the second coming of his Philadelphia program he began years ago with the first ShopRites to enter Philadelphia and asked what our issues were.

When we explained our loan troubles with labor costs, he goes, "Hey, dummies"—not in those words—"it's workforce development. Make that community kitchen an apprenticeship, a learning experience for youth in the neighborhood looking to make careers. That's how you deal with labor costs—offsetting them through philanthropy, state, federal, and local workforce development dollars."

He immediately called Speaker McClinton, the first female speaker of the PA House and our district representative. Together, they helped us secure over $600,000 in state funds alongside State Senator Anthony Williams to bring our building to life.

The USDA Meeting We Were Dreading

The meeting we were dreading was with the head of the FNS retail policy division—the 30+ year bureaucrat tasked with enforcing the Farm Bill and SNAP policy. She thought she'd have to yell at us for illegally doing hot food for food stamps.

But when we shared exactly what we were doing, she goes (not in these exact words), "Holy shit. This is compliant. How can I help?" We now meet quarterly with her team to streamline our SNAP license once the building is ready.

We met with both GOP and Democratic representatives, sharing our market-based solutions to food insecurity, malnutrition, and community resilience. We came back to Philly feeling triumphant, ready to go back to the CDFIs. But even with 50% of our labor costs covered through workforce development dollars, they still didn't believe in the purchasing power of our neighbors.

The Medicaid Meal Breakthrough

So we went back to listening. Mr. Gary, a senior on the block with a home care provider, had lost his leg to diabetes—a condition affecting half our neighbors in the neighborhood. Since we met him, he'd been getting 28 TV dinners delivered to his front porch from an out-of-state company, paid for by his Medicaid-covered home care company and reimbursed all the way up to CMS in D.C.

Yet every two weeks, we watched him feed these meals to the birds and cats because they were freezer-burned, gross, and not how he wanted to eat. So we inquired about these meals—how they show up, could we deliver them from our store instead?

Shortly after, we had two signed letters of commitment from home care companies to purchase TCG meals for their clients, starting with 30 seniors at two meals a day. This was guaranteed revenue, and a few months later, our $900,000 construction loan was signed.

We were ready to begin work on 60th Street.

Why the Bible Quote?

It was our final walk-through with our contractor, architects, and team before construction began. At this point, over 1,000 people had toured the building for conversations and planning sessions. Yet there it was, wedged into the tube and wiring: a book.

Our contractor Aaron goes, "What is that?" stands on the ladder, pulls out the dusty book, and drops it in Alex's hands. It was a Bible. It landed in Alex's hands, opened to Jeremiah 29:11:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

Turn the page—as we were doing with the building—and it went to Jeremiah 30:17:

"For I will restore health to you and heal your wounds, declares the LORD."

Exactly what we were doing. We had known we were on the right path, but it couldn't get more obvious than this.

Food Is Medicine

Construction began and is still ongoing, with every day bringing new hurdles. At the same time, we were thrust into the food is medicine movement through our Medicaid meal work, earning us a seat at the table. Our upstairs space became more than a community center—a health center to reach our most underserved populations in the same place they would shop.

We got an email from Penn student Jacob Cao, working at Penn NSAM on the gut-to-brain connection, asking to intern to see how his micro work translates in the field. He helped us research food is medicine work and introduced us to his boss, Dr. Gary Wu, head of Penn NSAM.

The CHANGE Study

Weeks later, with the support of Dr. Wu with lead researchers Dr. Stefanie Hinkle & Dr. Sophia Hua, we launched the CHANGE study—a community-led study to track current health outcomes, grocery habits, and experiences of our neighbors so that long-term we can track how our intervention reduces healthcare costs and improves outcomes.

The study got published internationally, with the community-driven process reshaping how academia typically does research. Instead of coming in with a hypothesis, we let neighbors lead the research, asking what they wanted to know and translate that into medically appropriate questions. We compensated neighbors as the experts they are, allowing over $10,000 to be redistributed and the data to be shared publicly at town halls and symposiums.

AmeriHealth Caritas and Geisinger Health joined the movement, taking a bet that good nutrition access and preparation pathways will reduce healthcare costs.

Where We Are Today

Today, we're nearing the end of construction with our opening just months away. We're bringing on 24 youth for our first cohort of apprentices to be trained under our new workforce director, Chef Joy Parham. We're developing a good food procurement strategy that supports local farmers and distributors, reducing our environmental impact and putting intention into each dollar spent.

We're sharing our neighbors' voices on national stages as the newest Rockefeller Big Bets Fellows, on the Alliance to End Hunger, as the youngest appointees to the Philadelphia Food and Nutrition Security Task Force, and so much more.

Our vision: a future where with intention; every community can have persistent access to nutrition, local farmers can live with dignity, youth can have pathways for real careers, diet related diseases are a thing of the past, and communities can come together to support each other from soil to supper.

The Journey Continues

We're taking each day in faith, knowing we're stewarding a collective vision to make eating well easier for all and ensure everyone has access to the ingredients to live stronger, healthier lives. Every divine intervention, every impossible connection, every perfectly timed disaster and breakthrough—they've all led us to this moment.

The Community Grocer isn't just a store; it's proof that when you align with purpose, the universe conspires to help you succeed.

I often get asked how I went down this path and honestly, it was all laid out there for me, with plans to give others hope and a stronger, healthier future.

The journey continues, and I can't wait to share what comes next.

Want to learn more about The Community Grocer? Visit us at www.thecommunitygrocer.org and follow our journey as we revolutionize how America thinks about nutrition access, one divine intervention at a time.

Find us on Social Media and Get Involved: https://linktr.ee/the.community.grocer

Want to donate directly to TCG? Click here

Join us for a Hard Hat Tour: https://www.thecommunitygrocer.org/events-classes-education

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On June 18th, I wrote about this disaster of a bill in The Philadelphia Citizen. Today, as the Senate rushes toward a final vote on devastating SNAP cuts, the urgency has reached a breaking point. What follows is the full economic argument I couldn't make in mainstream media—the one that exposes just how catastrophically wrong Congress is about to get this.

The House's "One Big Beautiful Bill Act" isn't just poorly named—it's economic sabotage disguised as fiscal responsibility. Hidden within its pages lies the largest assault on food assistance in American history: nearly $300 billion ripped from the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program over the next decade and over 9.5 billion meals lost annually from the plates of American families.

This isn't just cruel policy. It's economically devastating. It will harm Pennsylvania's rural economies, crush Philadelphia's working families, and demolish the very recovery our leaders claim to champion. Every senator voting for these cuts is about to make one of the most economically catastrophic decisions in recent memory.

SNAP isn’t just a hunger program. It’s one of the most efficient economic engines this country has. It supports our farmers, our grocers, and our neighbors—all while lowering healthcare costs through better nutrition. Cutting it reveals a profound misunderstanding of basic economic reality.

SNAP Is One of the Smartest Investments America Makes

Every dollar spent on SNAP generates $1.54 in GDP. It supports 388,000 jobs and yields $4.5 billion in tax revenue, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Unlike tax breaks for the wealthy, SNAP money doesn’t sit in a savings account. It moves—immediately—through our economy. It buys food, pays farmers, fuels trucks, supports grocers, and feeds families.

This impact isn’t limited to cities. While Philadelphia sees large total gains from SNAP, rural counties in Pennsylvania actually benefit more proportionally. In small towns and agricultural communities—already reeling from years of disinvestment—SNAP helps keep the lights on for families and the doors open for small businesses.

What These Cuts Would Mean on the Ground

The proposed legislation wouldn’t just cut food benefits; it would eliminate SNAP-Ed, the program that helps families shop and cook for better health. Children would lose access to school meals, and seniors, people with disabilities, and working families across the Commonwealth would see their benefits reduced. Local farmers and independent grocers—many of whom rely on SNAP dollars to keep their businesses afloat—would face steep declines in revenue, pushing some out of business entirely. According to FRAC, Pennsylvania would lose over $350 million per year, while the administrative changes proposed in the bill would increase, not reduce, the number of processing errors in the system.

The Congressional Budget Office estimates that 4.6 million Americans would lose SNAP entirely. Of those, 3.2 million would be pushed off the rolls solely because of harsher work requirements—regardless of caregiving responsibilities, job availability, or health status.

A Recipe for Administrative Collapse

Worse still, the bill would completely overhaul how states manage SNAP. Today, states like Pennsylvania split administrative costs with the federal government and are given time to address issues if error rates rise. But under this bill, states would immediately be responsible for paying 25% more in administrative costs, with no transition period. For Pennsylvania, that means cutting staff and reducing the number of caseworkers who help people navigate the system. That, in turn, would cause more errors and delays, triggering harsher penalties from the federal government. The result is a vicious cycle that undermines the program and punishes families through no fault of their own.

Debt Talk Without Economic Logic

Supporters say these cuts are about reducing the national debt. But budgeting isn’t just about cutting—it's about smart investing. SNAP grows the economy faster than it grows the debt. Like taking on a mortgage to buy a property that pays for itself, SNAP offers a return: for every $1 spent, our economy grows by $1.54. Eliminating that kind of return isn’t prudent. It’s shortsighted.

What Kind of Country Do We Want?

At its core, this debate is about how we respond to hardship. SNAP is built on a pragmatic, American idea: that helping people in tough times helps us all. It’s not charity—it’s strategy. And it works.

The alternative—the vision offered in this bill—treats poverty as a personal failure instead of a systemic challenge. That’s not just wrong; it flies in the face of decades of research showing that economic stability increases people’s ability to work, contribute, and thrive.

I see the visible human cost every Friday at our weekly free food distribution. With existing cuts to farm-to-pantry programs, more neighbors are lining up for weekly free-food distributions while we have less food to give out. This bill would make millions more Americans hungry.

Time Is Running Out

The Senate could vote on this bill in a matter of days. This isn’t theoretical. It’s urgent. Millions of families are at risk, including tens of thousands here in Pennsylvania.

We need every senator to understand what’s at stake. SNAP isn’t a line item—it’s a lifeline. We need to make our voices heard. Call your senators. Tell them your story. Speak up for the communities—urban and rural—whose futures hang in the balance.

Investing in people isn’t just the right thing to do. It’s the smart thing to do.

So What Can We Do?

Attached are resources to contact your Senators! Share these talking points, share why we MUST #SaveSNAPed and show how #SNAPmatters.

Contact your legislators using this helpful tool: https://lnkd.in/eRH9CY5N

Or make the call. McCormick at 202-224-6324 and Fetterman at 202-224-4254.

• Save Snap Ed Advocacy Toolkit: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1UiXFA8p16MhfnOTpa5lq8tjSC7g7zQpPcO83ukk8F3c/edit?tab=t.0

• SNAP Matters Toolkit: https://frac.org/research/resource-library/snap-school-meals-toolkit

• Take Action, SNAP Action Toolkit: https://frac.org/research/resource-library/take-action-snap-challenge-toolkit

• More materials: https://frac.org/programs/supplemental-nutrition-assistance-program-snap

Proceeds from this substack will go directly towards advocacy organizations fighting this BIG BAD BILL. If you are having issues paying for a subscription, feel free to Venmo me at @eli_moraru with the caption #SaveSNAP and I will donate directly for you!

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Welcome to my Substack. This is an in-depth look into a collective journey toward building a stronger, healthier, and happier tomorrow—through the lens of a founder in his 20's simultaneously navigating federal policy and figuring out how to properly hang suit pants. I'm part of a generation tasked with shaping the future we all dream of, and I invite you to join this conversation about not just how we build businesses, but how we build lives worth living together. I'm still figuring this all out as I go—much like you probably are—embracing the uncertainty and learning from each step along the way. That's exactly why I've decided to document and share this journey with you.

Who am I?

I’m Eli Moraru — a social entrepreneur, community builder, an optimist at heart, coffee snob by choice, and part-time bartender for the love of good conversations. Oh, and today is my 25th birthday!

I've dedicated my early 20s to a mission to reimagine how we strengthen, nourish, and support our communities. This journey has led me to co-founding The Community Grocer, navigating the complexities of federal policy, experiencing the ups and downs of start-up life, enjoying a short stint as a semi-professional soccer player, and engaging in many meaningful and enlightening interactions with leaders across different sectors from Palo Alto to Capitol Hill. I’ve learned that real change happens at the intersection of innovation, empathy, and action — usually fueled by strong coffee and always spurred by meaningful human connection.

I’m honored to have been recognized as an Innovation Under 25 Honoree, a political appointee to Philadelphia’s Food and Nutrition Security Task Force, and a Penn President’s Sustainability Prize winner, among other awards — and I’m grateful that my work has been featured in outlets like MSNBC, The Philadelphia Citizen, NowThis, NPR, and the viral Philadelphia Inquirer article that gave me a national platform. But the work is far from done.

This Substack is where I document the lessons, challenges, people, stories, and small wins that come with trying to build a more resilient and equitable future — all through the lens of a curious traveler, founder, and people person.

Subscribe for:

• Behind-the-scenes looks at food system innovation and health equity work

• Raw, honest takes on the roller-coaster that is start-up life

• Global adventures and local connections, shaping the way I view community building

• Moments of divine intervention

• Life lessons from someone figuring it out in real-time, just like you

Plus, 50% of all proceeds go directly to charitable organizations — meaning your subscription doesn't just bring you stories, it helps write new ones for communities that need it most. If you just want to support my work directly as a birthday present, please Venmo me at @eli_moraru and I’ll personally donate 50% to charitable organizations around the globe!

Join a community of fellow visionaries, builders, and optimistic realists who believe in both asking big questions and coming together to better understand the human experience.

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Join the community, leave a comment!

This isn’t just a newsletter — it’s a growing network of builders, dreamers, and doers. Share your thoughts in the comments, connect with other readers, and help shape conversations around community-driven change and navigating the world as best we can. Your perspective matters here, and I can't wait to hear it.

For this special 25th birthday edition substack, please give me and your fellow readers “a piece of advice you wish you had when you turned 25.” Thanks in advance :)

With grit and gratitude,

Eli

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