Something Quite Delectable

I want it to taste a little different every time.

I want to pick through a couple bones.

I want you to find a crisp of egg shell, and I want to be embarrassed.

Then I want you to bite into the eggplant parm and smile at me through stewed tomatoes, telling me the egg shell crisp was worth it.

I want the splash of broth across my chest to hint that I was dancing and reckless while I roasted the branzino, but that I also tasted the brine a million times to make sure I got it just right for tonight’s meal under the moon.

And tomorrow I want you to know that I will taste it a million times more to make the leftovers perfectly anew.

Sharing every dish and sitting on the same side of the table is non-negotiable, but of course you know that. And you agree.

I want to be convinced to eat in bed even though it’s against the rules.

And despite what I tell you - yea, I want you to feed me sometimes too.

I want to cry over cavatelli, gossip over gazpacho, bring a jar of garden pesto and a baguette to the stream where we let the water do the talking, and I want to ask you to love me over a blackened shrimp salad with homemade caesar, a dish I chose specifically for its lightness for this heavy question, and yet here I am unable to eat because watching you shovel every spicy leaf into your mouth is making me so delightfully full. 

When I don’t have the words, and I don’t have the answers, but I want to feel tenderly, passionately, luxuriously, imperfectly, thoroughly close to you -

there is food. 

Movie: The Taste of Things

This film, to put it simply, made me swoon. Directed by Anh Hung Tran, The Taste of Things tells the story of two gastronomical masters whose love for each other, like their gourmet creations, is hearty, balanced, and nourishing. The movie opens on 38 minutes of cooking with little dialogue and no score, encouraging the audience to luxuriate in the simplicity of really good food. The story continues with an ease that is leisurely but focused, reminding us that the best movies, meals, and loves are created with unhurried devotion. You will leave inspired to savor it all before it melts away.

Fun fact: the final scene is what true love looks like to me.

Lingering. Poignant. Elegant.

Short Film: Remember The Rain

Punchy, down-home, a little chaotic, a whole lot of flavor: the makings of this short by Xavier Girard are exactly how I like to cook. The lattice of images and voices creates a frenetic meditation on food, culture, and identity as told through a Haitian community living (and cooking) in Montréal. The title comes from the Creole saying, “Sonje lapli ki leve mayi ou” or “Remember the rain that made your corn grow.” This phrase thrust me back to childhood dinners at the local El Rodeo as my mother requested extra jalapeños and a side of hot sauce no matter the dish. So of course, this film had me at: “Because you have to eat seafood spicy.”

Savory. Fevered. Vibrant.

Art Book: Recipes of Ungrateful Lovers

I must admit - I’m not a huge fan of cook books. I find many to be sterile in their instructionality, and quite frankly I don’t like being told what to do. I need a book where the recipe is just a side dish to a generous helping of lore. I want to know what the cook is hating while their water boils, who they want to forget as the beans blanch, what desire is nagging in the back of their brain at the moment they deglaze. I wasn’t privy to this intimate genre of books about food. Then my dear friend Rachel Warren gave me this little zine that packs a tangy punch. Recipes of Ungrateful Lovers is a “compilation of lovers & food shared” created by Sofie Taddeo. Recipes share the page with rumination, as Taddeo reflects on lovers past pairing them with cleverly named meals. The food and anecdotes are all delicious reads, compelling the reader to make a double serving of dinner and bad decisions.

Personal. Witty. Relatable.

Extra Treat Short Film: Shop - A Pop Opera

A little something for my folks who find food, and particularly food shopping, intimidating and oppressive: I give you one of my favorite shorts, a fantastical musical experience created by Jack Stauber. There’s really nothing to say about it except - bon appétit.

Ridiculous. Weird. Delightful.

Snack: Three-Cup Vegetable

The year is 2019 and I’m on a month-long gig in London where I know absolutely no one. Finally unfettered from a very, very bad relationship, I feel this anonymous time in a new city to be ripe for sexual reclaiming. So when a coy Icelandic blonde painter and her strapping Indian writer boyfriend ask me on a date, I most definitely oblige.

We start with fancy cocktails at the type of spot where you blabber on about your favorite fruit and herbs and pet and the bartender surprises you with something perfectly floral and fizzy and fresh. Despite the bougie vibe, it is still quintessentially British with an array of mixed nuts and pickled eggs and seasoned crisps. Nice and light. Next, things get a little more substantial. We duck into a hole-in-the-wall with fish that perfectly flakes against the roof of my mouth. With a mid-meal pit stop, sticky toffee pudding reveals a hidden sweet tooth I never knew I had, and I am getting a little bloated when I find myself in front of a lazy Susan swirling with curries that drench your ribs, the spice making the couple across from me gleam.

By the time we get to the underground bao bar with squishy dough that is soft, round, and throbbing with fillings, I am desperate to unbutton my once-loose jeans. “We’ll have 3 foie gras buns and 1 foraged mushroom for my girl here.” He winks at me. I smile, feeling my cheeks swell and my stomach balloon. And it is at this moment I realize, I am the foie gras duck. I am sitting here shackled by expectations, 2 glistening caretakers at my side, with tubes of praise and touches and bao buns engorging my very, very achy belly. In any minute I will become the heinous delicacy of gluttons! I awkwardly excuse myself and steal away to the bathroom. I text my friend, Carolyn:

~ help. very hot couple. treated too well. full of food. feel sick. ~

~ Hi. Look at you, how sexy. You should feel good. And then you leave when you please. ~

Oh. Right. I may have been fattened up, but unlike the gavaged duck, I get to leave when I please. I get to say when, where, and how I’m eaten. I get to decide.

I wobble back to the table, which is now laden with buns, and loaf into my seat. The pair look under seductive lashes. “So, we were just discussing how much we really, really like you. And we’d love to invite you home with us.” I flush momentarily, then remind myself, I am not the duck. I get to decide. “I was also just discussing how much I really, really like you. But the truth is, I’m really, really full.”

The couple’s seductive gaze breaks and a warm smile spreads. “Oh god, we’re so sorry. We were too lavish.” Her hand squeezes mine, his knee grazes my thigh. “That is totally okay, just spending time with you is a treat.” 

After years of relationship baggage, feeling inadequate or burdensome, in constant fear of rejection or disappointing, here it is enough just me being me. And I get to decide who gets that little treat. 

*Three-Cup Vegetable*

Zesty. Herbaceous. Filling. (But not too filling.)

• Gather all your favorite in-season vegetables. Root vegetables help to round out the spices. I like to mix parsnips, carrots, potatoes, and/or turnips. Fresher crisp vegetables keep things light. I rotate snap peas, bamboo shoots, peppers, and/or broccoli. Tofu and mushrooms are also a nice addition. I always add an onion. Get yourself a king-sized skillet and there’s room enough for everyone!

• Splash your skillet with grapeseed oil to cover the pan and heat until shimmering. Add any and all root veggies, a knob-and-a-half of ginger, and a whole lot of smashed garlic. Stir everyone around and cook until veggies are tender and crisp, 10-15ish min. (I like to pause the stirring and get a little char on there every now and then.)

• While roots cook, make the sauce for an upcoming splash. Mix ½ cup mirin (or 1 cup clear rice wine or sake or honestly don’t tell anyone but I’ve used regular white wine), a glug of soy sauce, smaller glug of sesame oil, a splash of rice vinegar, and a smattering of dried chilies.

• Once root veggies are tender crisp, lower the heat and add in your splashy sauce and any other vegetables on deck. Cook + stir for another 10-15ish min. In the final 5 min, add in chopped or sliced scallions. Finish with a handful of ripped basil, cilantro, or both!

• Grab a bowl of rice if you need to cool down the kick.

• Enjoy with 2, 3, a whole group, or just the treat that is you.

Before I sign off, I do need to address the Big Q from last week.

Shoot, Shag, Marry:

• Pasta with marinara

• Pasta with pesto

• Cacio e pepe

This question of paramount import returned some illuminating results. With 5 shag’s, 4 marry’s, and only 1 shoot - pesto wins most beloved. With an equal spread of shoot’s, shag’s, and marry’s - cacio e pepe is hard to define. And finally marinara, despite its single shag and 4 marry’s, came out quite scathed with a whopping 6 shoot’s. Which leads me to my final question:

What’s wrong with you people?

Forever married to the marinara,

<3 Julie