Last month, life as I knew it was upturned in ways I’d never expected. I recently moved to Black Mountain, NC, a small, beautiful area just outside of Asheville. It’s a peaceful place, known for its scenic views, tight-knit community, and vibrant food culture. Then the storm swept through our area, isolating our neighborhood of about 100 homes from the outside world. Roads were destroyed, homes flooded, and with no power or internet for weeks, we faced real uncertainty about how we’d get through. Amidst the destruction and tragedy, though, something remarkable unfolded—our community rallied in ways I’d never imagined.

When the storm cleared enough for us to gather, I found myself surrounded by a surprisingly like-minded group, with a large number of people either fully vegan or mostly plant-based eaters. Right from the start, my neighbors were offering support and resources, a gesture that was incredibly heartwarming in a time of such struggle. Here are a few of the incredible plant-based staples that not only kept me nourished but allowed us to share a collective experience, turning surviving into thriving in the wake of the storm.

1. Soy Curls: The Surprise Hero

As soon as my neighbors found out I was vegan, bags of soy curls started arriving. I’d been a tofu-eater all my life, but soy curls were mostly new territory. These lightweight, shelf-stable plant-based proteins became an instant game-changer. With no power for days on end, soy curls proved perfect—easy to rehydrate, versatile, and packed with protein. They took on flavors beautifully, and I tried out all sorts of preparations: Asian stir-fries, Mexican carnitas, barbecue strips, and hearty additions to vegetable soups.

These soy curls provided a meaty texture and flavor that elevated my meals and brought comfort at a time when we were otherwise rationing whatever basics we had on hand. More than anything, soy curls were a powerful reminder of how plant-based foods can rise to the occasion, offering satisfaction and variety even when supplies are limited.

2. Dan the Mushroom Man’s Shitake Harvest

One of our first neighborhood meetings happened to coincide with the harvest of the season’s shiitake mushrooms, grown by my neighbor, affectionately known as “Dan the Mushroom Man.” When Dan handed out his freshly harvested shiitakes, he also shared his best tips for cooking them to perfection. He explained the secrets: don’t wash the mushrooms, start by cooking them dry to remove moisture and prevent sliminess, and then add sauce to intensify the flavor.

Having those shiitakes in the fridge transformed my meals. Instead of barely getting by, we had gourmet-level flavors. We even received a second batch of freshly harvested shitakes from another neighbor, allowing us to share the bounty with new friends as we had more than we could eat ourselves. These delicious fungi became a simple joy that kept us grounded through the stress and uncertainty.

3. Single-Ingredient Peanut Butter: The Unexpected Hug

In the days right after the storm, as we faced long, uncertain stretches without power, peanut butter became an invaluable source of comfort and energy. Several neighbors, sensing my appreciation for single-ingredient, organic products, gifted me jars of the purest peanut butter. Each jar felt like an unexpected hug—a small gesture of kindness from people I barely knew but who quickly became family.

Peanut butter may be a simple comfort, but at that moment, it symbolized something much deeper: the idea that our plant-based choices can nourish not only our bodies but also our connections to others. These jars kept me fueled, reminding me of how shared values—like supporting whole, simple foods—can bring people together in profound ways.

4. Blackbird Frozen Pizza: A Taste of Hope in Asheville

After nearly three weeks of isolation, the roads were repaired enough to venture out and I made my way to Asheville for the first time since the storm. My first stop was Earth Fare, my favorite local grocery store. While I was unsure what I would even find available, I stumbled upon a brand that I’d never seen before—Blackbird. Their vegan frozen pizzas took up almost half an aisle, and with options like Beyond Meat pepperoni, Daring Foods buffalo chicken, and barbecue chicken, I felt like I’d hit the jackpot.

I grabbed a stack and brought home a pizza party for the whole family; an offering that felt impossible just days earlier. The sheer variety and quality were a testament to how far plant-based food options have come. Sitting in my kitchen, enjoying pizza that tasted as good as anything from a pizzeria, I felt a renewed hope not just for myself and my neighborhood, but for the resilience of my new home city and the continued innovation of the plant-based movement.

5: Cousins Cuban Cafe – Foodservice Returns to Black Mountain

This last discovery really opened my heart! The day before the storm hit, my fiancée and I had our first meal at Cousins Cuban Cafe in downtown Black Mountain. We were delighted to find a menu featuring gluten-free yucca fries and a fully vegan Cuban sandwich—my favorite from my pre-vegan days, yet something I’d never found in a plant-based version that truly captured the authentic experience. The cafe’s sandwich hit the nail on the head, offering all the flavors and textures that made the original so memorable. 

Just days ago, I ventured back into town and was thrilled to find Cousins Cuban Cafe open. While potable water was still an issue, meaning my iced Cuban espresso would have to wait, they were serving the yucca fries and vegan Cuban, and I savored every bite as if it were my first. It was a reminder that even in challenging times, small comforts and cherished flavors have the power to lift spirits and bring a taste of home.

From Surviving to Thriving, Thanks to a Plant-Based Movement

Reflecting on these weeks, I am filled with gratitude. Here in Black Mountain, I was surrounded by neighbors who shared these values, by community members who went out of their way to offer plant-based options to those of us in need. 

Because of this collective effort, my community was able to move from mere survival to something deeper—a thriving sense of unity and shared purpose. None of this would have been possible years ago. Today, the plant-based movement has spread far and wide and become so much more than a dietary choice; it’s a global network of people committed to compassion, resilience, and connection.

In the face of disaster, our small community of plant-based neighbors found security, health, and even joy. And for that, I am profoundly thankful.