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I was first introduced to the story of Ella Risbridger as told by Charlotte Drucker in the latest episode of Salt + Spine and I was incredibly moved. In combating depression after her suicide attempt, it was Risbridger’s fixation on baking an apple pie that motivated her throughout some of her toughest days. 

Going back....weeks ago I was casually watching the Chef Show when Roy and Jon started making beignets, laughing at how with a simple two ingredients (Cafe Du Monde mix + water) they still somehow managed to screw it up the first time they made it. It was Roy who said something that stuck with me: 

“Cooking is one of the most zen things. You have to be there. You have to be present in the moment.“

Since then I’ve just kept hearing that commentary in my head. It really resonated with me because, all of a sudden, I felt a better understanding of why I like to cook: it gives my overly active brain peace.

When I read this article from Drucker in the Washington Post it completed this understanding for me. Cooking, a mindful practice, can really be a valuable coping method for different forms of mental health. While her story of Risbridger is a more intensive example, Drucker also goes into discussing how anxiety, situational depressions like postpartum or even just generally bad days can be calmed by the very active and present task of home cooking.

When I have a lot on my mind, even something as simple as chopping peppers and onions requires enough of my attention (trying not to cut off any fingers here!) so that my mind can be clear. 

I love that society is having more open conversations about mental health and for Risbridger to tell her story through her cookbook (Midnight Chicken: & Other Recipes Worth Living For) is absolutely fantastic. Let’s keep these important discussions going and create solutions through food! 

If you’re interested in learning more, I highly recommend giving this podcast episode a listen.

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Can you guess what cookbook I'm reading based on its illustrations? 😏

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I am very fortunate to have traveled to London several times. It is, as a result, my favorite city out there...so keep in mind I’m biased.

When I tell others I’m traveling to England one of the most immediate reactions I receive is an aversion to the food. Comments along the lines of “how fun! but hope you manage to eat well” are common. Images of bangers and mash and kidney pies are naturally paired with views of Buckingham Palace and the London Eye. 

Here’s the thing: London food is so much more than English food.

London is an incredibly diverse place and is becoming increasingly more so with time. Along with the wide variety of languages you hear walking on the street, the city’s diversity is also highly reflected in its cuisine. To find fish and chips or a shepherd’s pie you must also sort through an overwhelming supply of French, Italian, Indian, Middle Eastern, and African menus. 

It’s time to stop the pervasive assumption that food is awful in London. It’s actually quite the opposite...because it’s so much more than English food. In a recent stay, we ate everything from Vegan Cauliflower Curry to Pad Thai to Chicken Kofta. 

It’s a pleasure to dine in London. Some favorite stops from this trip included a Notting Hill pub with a secret Thai restaurant, a cozy and colorful Lebanese dinner in South Kensington and, of course, the outstanding Borough Market with tastes of anything under the sun. (The Borough Market cookbook is going on my wish list.)

And to be fair to British cuisine: there’s just something comforting about mushy peas with fish and chips or fresh-baked scones and a pot of tea. Without it, the city would also be incomplete. 

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Lately, I’ve been feeling nostalgic for my old kitchen...

Several years ago I was blessed to work with one of the best chefs I have ever known. Together we were constantly creating and learning; it is because of him that I truly found my love for food.

I wrote the below three years ago and it takes me back in time to those days surrounded by culinary passion and joy.

Miss you every day, Chef.

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It was a chilly November evening and the riverside mansion was submerged in fog, a perfect setting for the authentic Italian menu we had prepared. The menu read like a wish list of comfort foods: homemade gnocchi, beef brasato in a red wine sauce, zuppa di minestra, and a warm scamorza salad with not one, but two pestos. By the time I arrived the kitchen was in full motion preparing for the small seated dinner. In the midst of it all, a tall hat was keeping his three chefs organized so that every element would be at peak flavor and temperature as the servers arrived to escort the plates into the adjoining room. The group was prepared, patiently awaiting service.

The ironic piece about being a chef is that often the higher you work your way up the brigade system, the less food you touch. Chef spends most of his time designing menus, organizing the kitchen and monitoring production. In our kitchen it is rare for him to get the chance to pick up a knife or stand over a hot stove. I have come to learn (through the few moments I have witnessed) that when I do see the tall hat cooking it means we’re in trouble and I better stay out of the way. 

This particular night was a special event off campus and all focus was on the upcoming meal. Everything was perfectly on track: the table was set, the menu was phenomenal, the mise en place ready. Then, within a split second of the dinner orders arriving, the kitchen revved into high gear. The salad and minestra were quickly being consumed in the dining room, counting the kitchen down to the main moment of each entree. Orders flew in with each server: four gnocchi, six beef, three fish.

All of a sudden the tall hat was in the mix. I caught him dropping fresh chitarra pasta into a pot of boiling water. Moments later he was pulling out a sheet tray of strasinati broccoli rabe. My brain, conditioned, began to worry: Are we running behind? What are we missing? A panic ensued within me as I waited in the kitchen corner, unable to move or speak.

It was then that the Chef cut through a group of cooks on his way to the stove and said, matter of fact: “Sorry, I just really like to cook.”

The culinary industry is ruthless and ungrateful, so no one makes it far without a fierce love for the work. Even so, there was no need for him to explain himself in the middle of the kitchen that night. The man is constantly tempted with food in his kitchen that he does not touch. This night in particular, the menu was his proud creation and to sit back and watch it come alive was not possible. His body yearned to be a part of its production. There was no problem with the food or the staff, he just couldn’t stay away. 

So now four chefs stood over a gas range all at once, cooking the piselli al prosciutto, straining the pasta, boiling the beet gnocchi and serving the red wine sauce. Eight hands, each with a different task, worked ferociously among the same small surface with ease. The silent focus in the room was deafening, yet to speak seemed intrusive. The pace slowed as plating began and a small line of sweat was beading underneath the tall hat. Each piece of the plate came together one by one until, like magic, it was suddenly a complete meal. Few breaths were taken and no words were spoken until the final piece of china made its way out the door.

The Chef looked up as if emerging from a trance. His face was exhausted but his eyes were glowing with excitement. “I love being in a kitchen,” he uttered quietly under his breath. Exhilarated by witnessing all that just flew before my eyes and eager to finally speak, I squealed, “Me too!” He didn’t hear me. He was still somewhere within his own head, reflecting on all that just happened and celebrating in each dish. “If I didn’t have such a wonderful family,” he continued, “I don’t think I would ever leave.” 

No statement out of his mouth has ever seemed so perfect to me. These few raw sentences captured each half of his heart: his family and the kitchen. Forever dedicated to those people that mean the most to him, the Chef has remained close to home his entire life. He grew up less than a mile from the campus on which he currently works and the majority of his stories and memories take place within the Italian neighborhood of town. Last year we boarded a plane together for a work conference, making it his first time away from his family in twenty-five years. When he confessed the fact to me I was slightly stunned. My generation is the one of wanderlust, consistently seeking forms of escape and adventure. Never had I met someone who was overjoyed to stay exactly where he was. Blessed with an abundance of family and friends, he never had the need or desire.

It’s also clear that the kitchen is really his true home. There he feels the most complete version of himself, displaying his personality on beautiful plates and constantly imagining new flavors. He falls into his own state of mind when working in the kitchen. Focused and driven, he works with a passion that seeps into the entire space and spreads to those around him. 

Later that night he drove home after dinner and was overcome with an enormous feeling of pride. “Each dish was as I envisioned it to be,” he told me the next morning after clearly spending the night tossing and turning. “When I designed that menu I wanted to impress myself...and I did.” 

I wish for every person even half as much love for work as Chef has. It is not easy to find a passion for something as simple and magical as cooking. But if you ever do, don’t ignore it. Life is as brief as an evening fog and best fulfilled by moments that leave you gushing with pride on the drive home of a dark November night.

Written By: Emily Baksa

Photographs Property Of: Emily Baksa

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What does the future of healthy food need to look like? No surprises here. 

In the EAT Lancet Report, it’s also noted that this “healthy diet” we are aiming for contributes to “a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease.” This is an important goal: it’s not just about relieving our current health issues but also designing a standard of health that is cohesive within our bodies, brains, and communities.

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#foodcanfixit

There’s just a lot of work to do....

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Per my previous posts, you know I'm a fan of Chef's Table.

On a recent trip to New York City, we made a trip to the East Village for some Ivan Ramen because as Herman (2017) put it: “finally, a Chef’s Table episode we can afford”. Ivan Orkin was featured in season three which, as a whole, seemed to take a new slightly edgy, more casual approach to its featured chefs.

This past winter I really learned to love the versatility of classic ramen. A steaming bowl of noodles will do wonders on a cold, snowy New England day. 

Ivan’s ramen is a unique blend of his Jewish New York background and years of love and passion in Japan. This is perfectly resembled in your bowl with a classic rich broth and his famous rye noodles. His signature roasted tomato is also a special treat.

It was a pleasure to honor an individual’s story by enjoying a wonderful Sunday lunch. And, even better, to celebrate a Michelin star in the type of environment and price range much more accessible to a group of twenty-somethings.

To learn more about Ivan Ramen, I highly recommend his Chef’s Table episode. Or, if you’re short on time, his recent TED Talk is a great way to learn his story.

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Good food is very often, even most often, simple food.

Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly

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Is “almond milk” really “milk”? Is the “Impossible Burger” really a “burger”? The debate over labeling imitation ingredients is growing as more and more of these types of products hit the market. 

I’m not sure if I’m sold on the argument that there is a need to protect consumers from misunderstanding the integrity of these products. (I would hope people recognize cauliflower rice is from cauliflower.) Instead I believe public demand is creating the need for gluten free, dairy free, and plant based alternatives and that this population will knowingly seek these product lines as they are. 

The largest misconception, however, may be these alternative products being viewed as “healthy.” Especially in the case of synthetic biology like the Impossible Burger, there’s likely much more to be learned. 

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One of the best parts of my job is hosting regular Battle of the Chefs events on our local campuses. It’s an amazing opportunity to showcase the talented culinarians that I get to call my colleagues. 

Here are some of my favorite moments/dishes from this past year. 

Thank you for always keeping me well fed. 

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If you think plant-based diets are just a trend, think again. 

A quarter of college students now report following a diet that limits their animal product consumption. 

With this generation continuing to age into adulthood and grow in size, plants are truly going to be our future. 

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Master Chef Jr.

I don’t watch many cooking shows... 

I do not enjoy the competitive nature the media has created around cooking. Catty contestants too often prioritizing flare over flavor, yelling across the kitchen, pretentious-sounding panels of judges....who knew food could ever be so dramatic? 

Master Chef, however, is my exception. Not the adults, but the show built for ages 12 and under. 

The energy of a child is a refreshing dose of enthusiasm for the world, universal love, and silliness. When you bring youth into the kitchen, it’s inspiring, positive, and collaborative. And, in the case of Master Chef, Jr, insanely talented. 

There are nine-year-olds out there cooking more sophisticated dishes than some professionally trained chefs. 

Where do these groups of boys and girls begin to learn these culinary techniques and advanced palettes that put me and most other adults to shame?  

And then to do it all with such ease and confidence... 

This show is a positive force inspiring young (and “old”) towards a future in the kitchen driven by a belief in oneself and the support of a team. 

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A snapshot from my delightful week at The Culinary Institute of America's Menus of Change conference.

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When in Nashville, Tennessee (at the NACUFS National Conference), I had the pleasure of both hearing from Chef Sean Brock and dining at his locally-sourced restaurant, Husk. It didn’t take him long to convince me that southern food is the best food 👌

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The days of beef patties, Cheddar cheese and ketchup are long over. 

Future burgers are less about the meat and more committed to blended protein and diverse toppings. 

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Though this isn’t really a huge surprise, it’s great to have some research to back it up. 

The power of promoting plants lies in the language of your menu. 

It was great to learn some more about this study from the sources at Stanford during the Menus of Change conference!

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No photo better represents how I spend the majority of my time.

And as an aside, those sandwiches were delicious. 

@ Oasis Texas Brewing Company