Bright Spots and Just Desserts

Some wrap-up notes on 2023

First off, apologies for the misfired post last week—still trying to get the whole settings thing of the optional-subscriber base going. So I’m linking to my Hanukkah history post here, in case you want to give it a read and a comment!

Secondly, I’m going into hibernation for the remainder of the year, to go into 2024 with a cobweb-free workload, perspective, and list of things to tackle. But I want to take a moment to shout out my ten favorite developments in the food world over the last year—the cooking, reading, teaching, and thinking resources that have pushed me to go deeper into the subject of food.

1. The great and glorious bounty that is the Thinking Food Jobs substack. For years I’ve relied on word-of-mouth and Good Food Jobs as the best places to find jobs in the food world. But nothing compares to the treasure trove of listings that Barbara Rotger (formerly of the Gastronomy Program at Boston University) offers via her newsletter, which centers largely on the policy, advocacy, education, and media opportunities from all across the American food landscape. As someone in search of her next big food gig, it may be completely against my own interests to spread the word about TFJ, but I don’t mind when it comes from someone with as much knowledge or influence as Barbara. Make sure to sign up for this one ASAP.

2. While I’m on the BU beat, this year would have been far less thrilling if I hadn’t had the chance to learn from my students in the first-ever outing of the Writing Cookbooks class. The provocations from this group of 18 students ranged enormously—as did their levels of cooking expertise, which only made the class more interesting—but I was most grateful for how their insights helped me to push my sometimes-narrow understanding of the cookbook world into new territory. With any luck, the class will be offered again in the future, and it will absolutely be more wide-ranging, more creative, and more rewarding for me and for them than ever before.

3. Though I’ve been on the Gastronomica collective since 2019, I’m especially thrilled at the four astonishing volumes produced this year, with so many amazing articles that I’m hard-pressed to pick just a few to spotlight. But since we must start somewhere, be sure to check out the journal’s tribute to the great Puerto Rican food historian Cruz Miguel Ortíz Cuadra, Sean Wyer’s article on the foodification of the Roman Jewish Ghetto, Rick Halpern’s glorious photo essay on the Depression-era food photographs of Berenice Abbott, and Julia Segal’s exploration of the creative power of Jell-O. (And if you prefer to experience your food content in audio form, please lend the Gastronomica podcast your ears.)

4. As any beleaguered grad student will tell you, the process of crafting’s one research is a lonely endeavor, one that seldom yields social rewards or even interaction. Yet I was lucky to have not one but three conference outings this year that wholly rejuvenated my energies and my perspective. The annual ASFS/AFHVS conference in June, my first-ever outing to the Oxford Food Symposium in July, and the annual Smithsonian Food History Weekend in October put me back in touch with what I like most about food studies: the supportive community of scholars and practitioners that celebrates this topic better than anyone else.

5. Coming aboard the SAVEUR cookbook coverage beat late this summer was an enormous gift—the chance to get back to talking to cookbook authors about what makes them want to cook and write their way into the gastronomic canon. Beyond the basic joys of getting to geek out as hotly anticipated titles landed on my desk in PDF and print form, it was a true joy to find a regular opportunity to contribute to one of the food publications that has inspired me most. And as the thousands of avid followers of the SAVEUR cookbook club have reminded me, the enthusiasm to dive into a truly great cookbook is never just about what tastes good—it’s always a chance to think more deeply about food as a gateway to an entire world of culture and knowledge.

6. My travels didn’t just take place in between the pages of new cookbooks; I actually got to leave the house every now and then. Starting the year in Rome (the first time we’d been back since the pandemic) was an awakening for my palate, and a true delight to see my daughter’s first tastes of spaghetti alle vongole and Neapolitan pizza. Mid-spring outings to Rabelais Books in Portland and the great estates of Newport, Rhode Island brought vintage treasures and new insights. And our summer trip to Ireland, Wales, and England was an eye-opener, in particular the long stretches dedicated to taking in the rural countryside. But perhaps the best moments came with a few returns to New York City, the latest one with our kiddo in tow. I’m already planning my next visit.

7. Since my assignments for the Cookbook Club often involve recipe testing, this year has renewed my appreciation for what it means to cook in the internationally informed landscape of greater Boston. Living within a thirty minute drive of grocery stores that can supply pantries with a wide array of Taiwanese, Burmese, Peruvian, Eastern European, and North African ingredients, not to mention a large community of restaurants with expert proprietors, makes me wonder afresh why the city doesn’t get the culinary reputation that its plurality deserves. I only hope that my occasional spotlighting of excellent new restaurants can expand over the next year, perhaps even in outlets beyond this newsletter.

8. When I set aside the “Perfect Bite” section at the end of each newsletter, I hoped it would yield fruits not only from local restaurants, but from friends’ homes as well. (As a person who wears her food knowledge on her sleeve, it’s sometimes difficult to wrangle an invitation to someone else’s home, though I’d hardly call myself a critic.) But this year yielded many delicious discoveries at other people’s homes—boondi ka raita, homemade cassoulet, brisket with star anise and plums, French onion-soup inspired mac and cheese, and my first taste of two Canadian specialties, tourtiere and raclette. I’m grateful to never know if my next meal is coming, and always delighted when it comes from a dear friend or family member.

9. There are books I’ve turned to again and again as I’ve been putting the final touches on my dissertation, books that ground my thinking in impeccable historical storytelling, sharp sociological insights, and rich theoretical frameworks. I’ll offer a fuller presentation of my own bibliography as soon as the diss is out the door, but for now, I’ll just encourage that you take a little of your holiday reading time to explore the works of Isabelle de Solier, Megan J. Elias, Carolyn Korsmeyer, Rebecca May Johnson, Josée Johnston, Michelle Moon, Lora Romero, Laura Shapiro, and Marjorie de Vault. Though my bibliography is not entirely comprised of women, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that those who’ve done the historical work of cooking know how to give it the thoughtful treatment it deserves.

10. It wouldn’t be an end-of-year gratitude wrap-up if I didn’t thank all of you—somehow despite my best efforts, 200+ of you have shown up week in and week out to read these offerings, to try out suggested recipes, share your observations, and amplify this in a way that makes this work unexpectedly validating. Perhaps the best way to feel like a real writer is to actually give people a chance to read your work—and, if you’re lucky, to get them to turn up. I’m eternally grateful for your eyeballs, your restacks, and your continued support.

Happy holidays, and see you in 2024.

P.S. One culinary rec to send out the year: My most recent batch of coverage at SAVEUR has been from Nancy Silverton’s new baking bible, The Cookie that Changed My Life. Though the cookie that inspired the project, the GOAT peanut butter cookie, is absolutely worth your time, I’d like to suggest that you give our other featured recipe, her lemon poppyseed cake, a go. Far from your corner store muffin, it’s a delicate, delicious treat, surprisingly easy to put together and gobbled up enthusiastically even by the littlest/pickiest among us. If any of the other 100+ treats in the book are as good as this, I’m going to be doing a LOT of baking this year.