Books that Cook: An Interview with Melissa Goldthwaite
Organized in menu sequence from starters to dessert, Books that Cook features an impressive range of contributors
from the culinary worldāJulia Child, Fannie Merritt Farmer, James
Beard, Alice Watersāand from the world of lettersāMaya Angelou, Sherman Alexie,
Nora Ephron...and many others. Co-editors Jennifer
Cognard-Black and Melissa Goldthwaite introduce each ācourseā with an essay putting it in historical context.
Tomorrow at Washington D.C.'s fabulous indie bookstore Politics and Prose, Melissa and Jennifer (and a panel of writers including yours truly) will be celebrating Books That Cook. And today
Melissa lets me ask her some questions about this delicious project.
Iād love to hear about
the genesis of this project.
In the late ā90s, I started collecting booksānovels, memoirs,
essay collectionsāin which the authors had embedded recipes. One evening, I was
standing in a bookstore in Ohio with Jennifer Cognard-Black, and I said,
āSomeday, I want to teach a class in which all the books include recipes.ā That
comment started a conversation that has lasted nearly fifteen yearsāand
continues. Every time we talked or visited one another, we were sharing book
recommendations and sometimes recipes. In autumn of 2003, Jennifer and I each
taught our first versions of a class we called Books that Cook, and a couple
years later, conversing in her kitchen in Maryland, we decided to work on a
book together. We started sending the book proposal to potential publishers in
April of 2007. Seven years later, the book is finally out.
How does your teaching
feed your writing and research? And how do writing and research feed your
teaching?
Books That Cook started with personal
reading and conservation and moved to the classroom and then to a wider
audience, and it will return to the classroom.
Much of my research is pedagogical, so thereās a direct link
between my teaching and research. When Iām choosing readings for an anthology,
for example, I always think not only about the particular piece but also how it
will work in the classroom. I sometimes include readings Iām thinking about for
a book in a course packet to see how students respond.
I try at least a couple times a year, though, to read a book
that I have no intention of teaching or writing about because I read
differently when Iām going to teach something or write about it in a scholarly
way. Thereās a different kind of joy that comes from reading just to read. I have
to practice that kind of reading.
In terms of creative writing, when I give an exercise in class,
I often write while students are writing and take my turn sharing what I wrote.
And, of course, reading is a great inspiration for writing as well.
All food photos are by Melissa Goldthwaite |
Itās sensory: scents, textures, shapes, colors, tastes. People
also often have powerful memories of and strong feelings about foodāboth
positive and negative. Most people have some memory of being forced to eat
something as a child, or they remember the excitement mixed with nervousness of
a first dinner date or party or, perhaps, the embarrassment of spilling
something. The foods and situations are different, but the feelings and
experiences are similar, providing common ground.
What a character eats or doesnāt eat can also reveal something
about that person or a relationship. For example, in Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, Fannie Flagg shows
Evelyn Couchās sense of self and her developing friendship with Mrs.
Threadgoode through food. Although Evelyn eats processed junk food alone early
in the book, as her friendship with Mrs. Threadgoode develops, she begins to
see herself differently and begins to eat and share more nourishing foods.
Tables are also places of conversation, so they provide a
perfect setting for dialogue and body language and description. If Iām working
with a writer who has difficulty including sensory details, I can say, āWrite
about a holiday dinner,ā and the details start to come. These ritual meals are
often good starting places for writing about food.
Books That Cook is impressively ambitious and wide-ranging. What
were some of the challenges of pulling it together?
One of the biggest challenges of this book was permissions
costs. Our first table of contents was organized historically, and it was much
longer. Even once we changed the organization and cut drastically, there were
pieces we couldnāt include because of high fees.
We also wanted at least one poem, essay, and piece of fiction in
each chapter. It wasnāt difficult to find nonfictionāmuch literary writing
about food is nonfiction. But there are fewer short stories that embed recipes.
There are, however, many fine novels. Still, itās difficult to excerpt from a
novel, so that was definitely a challenge.
Iām particularly intrigued that you included a selection from the Alice B. Toklas Cookbook. Toklas is such an interesting bridge between the literary and culinary worlds. Can you say something about the choice to include her work here?
Toklas called her book a āmingling of recipe and reminiscence,ā
which is a fitting description. Jennifer and I were interested in including a
range of literary writing about food that embedded recipes in different ways.
Toklas moves from reminiscence to recipe and back again, sometimes introducing
a fully formed recipe in the middle of writing about a particular memory.
Sheāll be in the middle of a sentence, then there will be a space, the dish
title, then a recipe written in paragraph form. She had a writerās eye for
detail and description about food and culture (especially differences between
French and American cultures). And she showed the connections among the life of
the mind, the preparation and sharing of food, and the importance of spending
time with friends.
Iām also wondering if
you would say a bit about that selectionās final paragraph, in which a friend
asks, āwith no little alarm, But, Alice, have you ever tried to write. As
if a cook-book had anything to do with writing.ā? Iām tantalized by that
last sentence. What do cookbooks have to do with writing?
Cookbooks have everything to do with writing. Cookbook writers
have to be attentive to detail, extraordinarily preciseāand simultaneously
creative, even as they take into account histories and received practices.
Later this month, Iāll be doing a reading and cooking
demonstration at the Baltimore Book Festival. In preparation (so samples can be
made for the audience), I had to describe in detail how to make the dish I would be making. I had to put what comes
somewhat naturally into wordsāwith measurements and step-by-step instructions.
And then I had to list exactly what Iāll need on stage. Iām terrible at this
last part. I asked forāamong other suppliesāāa large, sharp chefās knifeā when
I should have been far more specific. Who knows what Iāll end up with. . . . I
just hope I come back with all my fingers.
Anyone who has written a cookbook knows the work and the
inventiveness that goes into itāand the understanding of form and audience one
must have. Toklas also had stories to tell: for example, she writes of
preparing a fish for Picasso (and decorating it to amuse him!). She was
surrounded by artists and writers. Surely she knew cooking and writing about it
as art too.
I didnāt start cooking until I was in graduate school, and the
first book I really used was Carol Gellesās 1,000
Vegetarian Recipes. Itās definitely not a fancy book. Perfect for
beginners. But I loved that book because it taught me the basicsāat least of
vegetarian cooking. The ingredients lists were manageable, and I learned how to
add to a recipe or change an ingredient or two without fear of ruining the
entire dish.
Iām sure I have at least a hundred cookbooks now, but I rarely
follow recipes exactly. When I get a new cookbook, I sit down and look through
the entire book, sometimes marking pages with Post-it flags. I go back to the
books for inspirationāa reminder of dishes Iād like to try. But when I try
something new, I look up as many versions as I can find of a similar dish to
see what the common elements are, and then I experiment. I donāt think that
Iāve ever followed a recipe exactly after the first or second time making a
dish.
Have you tried any of
the recipes in Books That Cook? Iād love to hear about it.
Iāve had versions of several dishes in the book, but I havenāt followed
the recipes exactly. Even the recipe for Summer Salad, which I included in my
poem in the book, is different from how I make that dish. Sometimes literary
taste is different from taste in food!
But I have had Howard Dininās perfect fried egg sandwich, which
is delicious. When I make my own egg sandwich, though, I add Piment d'Espelette and melt aged cheddar on the bread.
I
tend to remember āfirstsā more than meals. I remember the fish and chips
(wrapped in newspaper) I bought at a street cart in London when I was sixteen; it
was the first time I had malt vinegar. I remember the potato croquettes I had
this past summer at a truck stop in Germany. I remember my first Prosecco, my
first Cerignola olive.
Iāve
enjoyed multi-course meals at fine restaurants in France and Switzerland. But
the meal I remember most was from an Indian restaurant in a strip mall in
Columbus, Ohio. The dish was called āshubnub chicken.ā It was only my second
time in an Indian restaurant, and this dish was so good that I would later lie
awake at night thinking about it, replaying the taste and texture in my
imagination. For months, I went to Indian restaurants, looking for that dish,
and I couldnāt find it on any other menu. Finally, I described the dish to an
Indian friend. She said āShubnubā was a girlās name, so the dish was likely
one-of-a-kind and named after a person, but as I described the taste, she
concluded it was similar to chicken makhani (also known as butter chicken),
which is widely available. Itās comparable to chicken tikka masala, too, but
Iāve never had another āshubnub chicken.ā Still, some version of this dish is
my comfort food, the food I crave when Iām tired or crankyāone of the few foods
that always makes me feel better.
Dessert! |
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