What We Eat When We Eat Alone - Deborah Madison [82]
“I used to always eat breakfast in the kitchen, but one day I noticed that when I sat in the room with my saints, I wasn’t just fuelling myself for a busy day, but something else was happening.”
She pauses a moment, feeling for that something else, finds it, and continues. “It’s funny, but the yogurt seems to taste better when I’m with my saints. I never have it with anything but almonds, but if I’m in the kitchen I add grapes and berries and other things. I don’t know why, but the almonds are enough. I slow down. Eating with the saints is the best way to start my day.”
And having supper in bed with her cat is the best way to end it.
This book would not have even begun if people hadn’t been willing to talk about what they eat when they eat alone. Because this project began as a curiosity on Patrick’s part with no book in mind—that idea didn’t come about for another decade—the names of our first travel companions and informers weren’t always included among the scribbles about tingle and burn spices, the virtues of mastic ice cream for seduction, or how to cook a frozen hamburger. On countless occasions since, utter strangers have piped up with their stories about what they eat when they eat alone, and before we could find out their identities, they were gone. Other times, people whom we know perfectly well but who don’t want others to know them, go nameless, or are referred to by first names only. With or without revealing identities, we offer our deep appreciation to each and every person who has taken part in this book.
Although they didn’t know what kind of stage they were setting (and might not have agreed to it had they known), we especially wish to thank K. Dun Gifford and Sara Baer-Sinnott of Oldways Preservation and Trust for including us on so many of those Mediterranean safaris where, over long bus rides and even longer meals, the germ of this book was born.
Our warm thanks to Peggy Knickerbocker for her generosity, good thoughts, clever ways with words, and her always appealing recipes. The title “Men and Their Meat” is attributed entirely to Peggy as well as the quivery wine jelly.
Thank you to those participants who are involved with procuring, producing, and raising food; winemakers Robert Brittan and Carl Doumani; cheesemaker Nancy Coonridge; farmers Larry Butler, Ed May, and Carol Ann Sayle; tea procurer Sebastian Beckwirth; rancher Hugh Fitzsimmons and artist-rancher James Turrell; and farmers market leaders Joanne Neft, Amelia Saltsman, and Richard McCarthy.
A special thanks to Milton Glaser for his provocative ideas.
A host of cooks and writers also contributed to this book, and we are grateful to them for their fine words and their recipes. Thank you to Daniel Halpern for his poem “How To Eat Alone,” and to Jeannine Hall Gailey for her poem “Spy Girl,” both of which speak so aptly to the human eat-alone condition. To Betty Fussel, Laura Calder, Paul Levy, Fran McCullough, Mas Masamoto, Rae Paris, Cliff Wright, Sylvia Thompson, Martha Rose Schulman, Blake Spalding, Joe Simone, Greg O’Byrne, Phillip Dedlow, Marilyn Ferrel, Agalia Kremezi, and Kate Manchester—our heartfelt appreciation. And we especially wish to thank Dan Welch for his unfaltering passion in the kitchen. No one uses more (good) olive oil or has more fun doing so.
Thanks to the contribution of family members Winifred, Jamie, Lindsay Madison, and Miles Kusch, and friends old and new from every walk of life—John Flax, Harmony Hammond, Emily Hartzog, Sam Harvey, James Holmes, Bill Kissell, Charlie Johnston, Peter Jensen, Paul Johnson, Kim Carlson, Sharon Chase, Rosalind Cummins, Ken Kuhne, Patrick McKelvey, Michael McCaulley, Karen Ransom, Owen Rubin, Maureen Stein, Dru Sherrod, Sandy Simon, Marsha Weiner, Brooke Willeford, and Melissa Williams.
To those who helped to turn an idea into an actual book: we warmly thank our publisher Gibbs