The Kitch Lit Series: Top Chef Adjacent

The Season 18 Top Chef premiere is only a couple days away. So it is fitting that I found myself reading a couple of books that are Top Chef adjacent.

The first, Apron Anxiety, is a chronicle of Alyssa Shelasky’s “messy affairs in and out of the kitchen.” Shelasky, a New York City-based gossip and celebrity journalist changes her life and her outlook of it when she discovers a dormant passion for cooking. Apron Anxiety spends time before, during and after her relationship with Top Chef contestant Spike Mendelsohn. Note that Mendelsohn was named only as “Chef” in the book and I used all my willpower to wait until the end to utilize the Google machine to uncover his identity. While the relationship had ups and downs, through it she found cooking and, perhaps more importantly, purpose. While reading about Shelasky’s exploits is fun, the relationship she develops with herself and those around her through food and cooking are much more meaningful.

After devouring Apron Anxiety, I jumped into Padma Lakshmi’s memoir Love, Loss, and What We Ate. I knew very little about Lakshmi before reading the book: former model, TV host, spent a stint married to Salman Rushdie. Lakshmi is, not surprisingly, a much more complex individual than those three points allow. Hers has been a life spent around the world, discovering and searching. Lakshmi’s writing style is easy and clean. At times, the book feels heavy, Lakshmi having experienced more than her share of heartache, a celebrity romp this is not.  As a Top Chef junkie, I longed for more behind the scenes detail but there’s really very little insight into the show itself, for that is not the objective of the book. Although, the snippets do make very clear that hosting Top Chef is much harder than it looks. Love, Loss, and What We Ate is the the honest retelling of how the experiences of her life have shaped her into the person she is today. 

Recipes are sprinkled throughout each book, giving us the opportunity to share some of their experiences. Apron Anxiety was published nearly ten years ago and Love, Loss, and What We Ate is now nearly five years old, leaving the reader with the distinct knowledge that there is more to the story. What happened next?

Lit Preview: The Journey, Not the Destination

Nico has a hard edge but, like so many teenagers, her edge comes from a place of unease and vulnerability. She has yet to find her place within her family or at school, let alone in the world. As a result, Nico is searching and finds solace in skipping school and reckless behavior. Nico’s universal and relatable struggle to find herself – with a hefty side of sarcasm – coupled with Lee Matthew Goldberg’s concise plotting make Runaway Train a pleasure to catch. 

As Runaway Train opens, Nico is reeling from the sudden death of her seventeen year old sister, Kristen. As you may have guessed, her death was sudden and completely unexpected. Nico and her parents, not on the best of terms before Kristen’s death, now find themselves almost entirely at odds, despite the fact that they are wading through grief together. Nico, convinced that her fate will be the same as her sister’s, sets off on a road trip to get away from her parents and complete all the items on her bucket list. At the top of the list: visiting Kurt Cobain’s Seattle residence. Grunge is Nico’s musical genre of choice, Cobain her savior – especially in the wake of the tragedy. On her drive from LA to Seattle, Nico climbs mountains, meets new people and even takes a turn at the mic herself. By the time she makes her way back home, Nico gets a whole lot more out of the trip than she expected.

Nico’s story of redemption rising from the ashes of self-destruction is engaging, if a bit predictable. Goldberg has brilliantly chosen to set the plot over a brief, fixed period of time. There is some exposition, but the bulk of the story is set over the course of Nico’s road trip – about two weeks. Nico spends time in each chapter with new people and experiences new things. Timing constraints are bolstered by precision in character development. Goldberg’s focus is Nico and Nico only. It’s a constraint that intensifies the weight of Nico’s situation and allows us to forgive the fact that some of the other characters fall shy of fully formed. Nico is simultaneously immature and wise beyond her years, having experienced a loss that no child should have to endure. Her destructive actions against the backdrop of her insecurities illustrate her struggle to find balance, peace and her identity. It is impossible not to root for her.

The description of Runaway Train includes the following, “Runaway Train is a wild journey of a bygone era…” How unbelievable that the 1990's are now considered a bygone era. I realize that reveals my age. However, the premise of the book relies on the fact that Nico is on her journey alone. That is, her decision to suddenly disconnect from her life mirrors the disconnect she has felt all along, a premise that does not exist in our constantly connected culture. I suppose that makes Runaway Train bildungsroman with a touch of historical fiction. Filled with humor and heart, Runaway Train is hard to put down. Get your Runaway Train ticket when the book is released on April 29th. 

In a Word: Delightful

To All the Boys: Always and Forever overflows with bright-eyed possibility. The characters are charming, the storyline – while predictable – warms the heart and, featuring a variety of gorgeous settings, is a feast for the eyes.

The central couple in the To All the Boys series is bookish Lara Jean Song Covey and jock Peter Kavinsky. Lara Jean and Peter are three years into a relationship that started rather unconventionally: as a ruse. Of course, as you may have guessed, what started as a ruse blossomed into young love. Now seniors, and having survived the trials and tribulations of high school, Lara Jean and Peter plan to attend Stanford University together. Of course, life has other plans. 

Teen movies often strike one of two chords: cloying or rebellious. To All the Boys does not fall into those ruts. Here, the teenagers are not overly angsty or precocious. Lara Jean and Peter are good kids trying to navigate the overwhelming task of growing up. Their circle of friends is sarcastic, fun and supportive. Chris beats her own drum and doesn’t want to go to prom because that’s what other kids do. But Chris can’t help but admit that it will probably be fun. When Lara Jean’s prom does not go as planned, Chris is by her side. Lara Jean’s family is equally winning. Everyone should be so lucky to have a hilarious and loving little sister like Kitty. When Kitty reluctantly admits to Lara Jean that when she leaves for college she will miss her 12/10 absolutely yanked on my older sibling heartstrings. 

To All the Boys treads in a very privileged lifestyle, but a little fantasy and escapism is just what the doctor ordered. The movie opens with a spring break trip to South Korea, now on my long list of destinations. Back at home, Lara Jean’s family lives in a house ripped from the pages of Architectural Digest. Teenage me would have been drooling over Lara Jean’s bedroom; adult me is drooling over the kitchen. And the kids go on a senior trip to New York City which, in a world where the pandemic does not exist, shines in all its’ dynamic, hectic glory.

No movie is perfect (not true, The American President is perfect) but To All the Boys accomplishes exactly what it sets out to do: provide a strong new entry into the teen rom com genre, and a refreshing one at that. Mature kids who, even though their plans are thrown off the rails, recognize that happiness can come from seeing someone else happy. 

Crunch!

Very, very rare is the discovery of a true soul mate. Someone who understands and shares one of your deepest passions is a beacon of light in the gray, cloudy world of non-cereal eaters. I have found my people. I don’t know Scott and Andrew (yet), but they are my best friends. Scott and Andrew host my new favorite binge: the Cereal Killers podcast. 

I’ve arrived at work to find Cinnamon Toast Crunch on my desk (#bestboss), received it for birthdays and traveled home from vacation with coveted boxes. Hate those annoying food days at work? I do. Unknown home cooking conditions, fire hazard crockpots and unidentifiable Midwestern potluck dishes, I’ll pass. Do cereal day instead! Put a couple of people on bowls and spoons, a couple on milk and everyone else brings in a box. So much less work and so much more delicious. As a result of my thriftiness, most of my year is spent eating off-brand cereals. Cinnamon Toasters, Fruit Rings or Oat Toasties anyone? That expensive box of Cinnamon Chex? That lands on my Christmas list. This tradition can be traced back to Santa Claus himself. Growing up, stockings were always filled with a few mini boxes of the coveted sugar cereals that were not regularly stocked in the pantry. Needless to say, my love for cereal runs deep, so the Cereal Killers podcast rocks my world. Literally. I am usually laughing so hard that my desk shakes.

Despite the fact that the podcast feels like the brainchild of a couple of out of work buddies trapped at home, Cereal Killers is not a product of the pandemic. Scott and Andrew have been crunching since 2019. Each episode loosely follows a similar recipe: review and rate new and classic cereals. At times, a theme such as “healthy” or “peanut butter” is in place.  From typical cereals such as Life and Cinnamon Toast Crunch to completely obscure offerings that should never have been created (Post’s Chicken and Waffles and General Mills’ Dippin Dots), you cannot help but taste vicariously through them. One spoonful of your childhood favorite and, even though they are eating it, not you, your memories drift fondly to Saturday morning cartoons, trips to the grocery store to put your sugar cereal negotiating skills to the test – I’ll just eat it on the weekends! – and more of life’s simple pleasures. The screen grabs from their YouTube recordings reveal that Scott is recording from cereal heaven, where there are shelves full of brightly colored boxes and Scott dives into the ‘cereal sack’ to pull out the days variety. The episode length, 15-20 minutes average, is genius. This is cereal not brain surgery; there is no need to discuss it ad nauseam. 

Just as Apple Cinnamon Cheerios is dusted with the perfect number of cinnamon specks, Cereal Killers is spiked with the perfect amount of humor and sarcasm. Scott and Andrew’s relationship is a mix of best friends and old marrieds, in the best possible way. They snipe and bicker. They laugh and poke fun. Scott is older and treats Andrew like a little brother, happy to be in charge but remembering when he was the only kid in the house. Yes, I am the eldest sibling in my family. Andrew gags. Scott belches. Wilford Brimley croaks “diabetes.” Older episodes and new ones, I am eating it up and loving every bite. My cereal universe has brightened ten fold. Now 'tis time to begin my master plan: convince Scott and Andrew to let me join them as a guest taster, then as a guest host, then as a co-host, then we catch the attention of major cereal brands, the podcast takes off, and suddenly free cereal is arriving at my door. The path is clear, I'll just follow my nose.

The Kitch Lit Series: The City of Light

There is such comfort that comes with a return to the familiar. For me, that has been a recent return to the culinary world. I’m deep into watching Top Chef for the hundredth time. Currently blowing through the hot mess that was Top Chef :Texas. And to coincide, a return to food-centric text. 

The Man Who Ate Everything was a slog. Some interesting culinary tidbits lie within Jeffrey Steingarten’s tome, but for someone with minimal interest the true science of cooking and baking, it was a lot of information for my little Kraft Mac and Cheese brain. From Steingarten’s New York City apartment, I now find myself in the culinary mecca of France. 

David Lebovitz’s The Sweet Life in Paris is delightful. Part guidebook, part cookbook, completely charming. Lebovitz spent decades as a pastry chef in San Francisco before relocating to Paris. Sprinkled in between pastry recipes, Lebovitz documents his time working in a fish market and a chocolate shop and expounds on the unique traits of Paris and its’ inhabitants, including, a strange acceptance – at one time – of public urination. Lebovitz has a breezy and descriptive writing style. He vividly paints a picture of his tiny Paris apartment overflowing with sweet treats. Baking chocolate piled high and shelves stuffed with bags of flour and sugar. Lebovitz makes inroads with locals by off loading his pastries and batches of ice cream, in part because there is literally no space to store them. Paris marked a new chapter for Lebovitz and hopefully, for his readers, there are more culinary chapters yet to come. 

From Paris we head south to Lyon with Bill Buford. Buford wrote about Italian culinary culture and the restaurant industry in Heat, which documented his time spent in Mario Batali’s kitchen at Babbo. Thus far, I’ve only just begun reading Dirt, Buford’s recent exploration of French cooking. From New York, Buford, his wife and two young twin boys embark on an adventure, with the ultimate goal being Buford’s true understanding of French cooking. I relish the thought of diving into his journey of cultural immersion through food in Lyon, France, the city which most consider the true home of French cuisine.

One day, my interest in all things cuisine may translate to real deal cooking on my part. As it stands, I just requested someone send me a recipe for pizza beans. No, that is not a typo. Google pizza beans, it’s a thing. 

Live From...Our Living Rooms

All the typical pre-concert activities occurred. Gotta get to the bathroom before the show. I live by myself so, no line, woot! The odor of the restaurants my fellow audiences members enjoyed before the concert permeated the room. Ope, just me and the smell of the popcorn that I popped before the show. The house lights dimmed. Me again, I hit the light switch on the way to my couch. Away we go. My first live virtual concert. 

Jessica Vosk, one of my favorite Elphabas (2017 tour + actual 15^th anniversary performance on the Broadway!) performed live Sunday evening with Seth Rudetsky. Rudetsky, perhaps best known for his satellite radio show, is a savior. He is almost single-handedly feeding those of us in the Broadway starved community with Stars in the House and The Seth Concert Series.

Rudetsky has been in the Broadway universe for decades and can probably pluck away any song, Broadway or not. But Vosk’s journey to Broadway is unique. After spending her post-college years working on Wall Street, anxiety and panic attacks led her to reexamine her path. It surely took guts to leave a high paying job for the uncertainty of a performing career. But for Vosk, pursuing her passion became the fulfillment she needed. Broadway or bust. 

Lucky for us, her passion and persistence paid off. After debuting on Broadway in The Bridges of Madison County, Vosk went on to perform in Finding Neverland, Fiddler on the Roof and Wicked. Last night, Vosk opened with Carole King’s “Beautiful” and proceeded to show off her range. She touched on pop, Broadway and even Disney. Some of the standouts were “Your Song,” “What Baking Can Do,” “Someone to Watch Over Me” and “I Can Do Better Than That.” Vosk’s voice is pretty close to impeccable. Her tone is rich and crystal clear. And that girl can belt. And that girl can riff. And she does it all flawlessly. 

So can a virtual concert replace the live concert experience? Of course not. But can it accomplish some of the same things as a live event and fill just a little bit of the huge void that the pandemic has created? You bet. Check out the upcoming concerts in The Seth Concert Series. You may have missed Vosk but you  should not miss these!

We The People

In the midst of absolute non-stop bingeing episodes of The West Wing, I bummed a Prime password in order to watch What the Constitution Means to Me. Heidi Schreck’s autobiographical play premiered in 2017, ran on Broadway in 2019 and, at some unknown point in the future when touring Broadway is once again a thing, is set to head out on a national tour. But we don’t have to wait. Schreck’s play, filmed during its’ Broadway run, is now available to stream. And stream it you should.

 
The play’s premise is based on Schreck’s time spent crossing the country giving speeches about the Constitution during her teen years, eventually making enough to fund her college education. One wonders how the teenaged Schreck engaged with what some consider an arcane document. The United States Constitution, the document upon which the foundation of our republic is built, carries an air of mystery. Hundreds of years old, incredibly difficult to amend, the Constitution may seem to have little relevance to the day-to-day life of people living in the United States. Over the course of the play Schreck schools the audience better than any history teacher ever could that the Constitution, in fact, has a more direct impact than many would ever imagine.

Schreck's feelings about the Constitution, naturally, have evolved over time. And Schreck, as an adult, is more willing and able to come to terms with some of the traumas that she and her family has experienced. To detail her specific personal connections to the Constitution here would be to reveal too much of the play’s content. Suffice it to say, touching on immigration, women’s rights and domestic abuse, Schreck’s connections to the document and the effect of its' interpretation are eye opening.

Schreck is an engaging storyteller if a bit frenetic. At times, the play seems to lose focus, but Schreck addresses that. And, in reality, any seeming digressions only serve to make the play all that more personal. At the play’s conclusion, a young student debater joins Schreck on stage. The two spar in a brief parliamentary style debate, one taking the position to keep the Constitution, the other, to abolish it. At the end of the debate, the audience takes a vote: keep or abolish.

 
What I found most surprising and engaging,  even given my admittedly lacking Constitutional knowledge (though I did rock a Con Law paper about the Terry stop), is that both arguments have valid points. Points that anyone could admit they identify with. And therein lies the case for everyone in this country to watch this play. When personal connections are made with the Constitution, with laws, with policies, the tendency is for us all to become more invested, even perhaps, as Schreck advocates, run for local office. Eventually, over time, the policymakers look a lot less like old, white men and more like the diverse country we are. And the laws and policies that are produced become equitable to all people. Watch What the Constitution Means to Me. And then vote.