Evenings with Ta-Nehisi Coates and Ruth Reichl

I love living in a city that teems with cultural opportunities. This past week felt especially rich, and although I cannot wait, literally, to go to bed tonight, the fatigue is worth it.

On Wednesday, not two hours after traffic mayhem, swimming lessons, gobbling pizza, hopping the Metro and arriving in Chinatown, I made it to the historic Sixth & I synagogue where an energetic line stood waiting for the doors to open, 

I took my seat, the closest to the dais I've ever had at Sixth & I, and took in the effervescent buzz of anticipation around me. Ta-Nehisi Coates was soon to take the stage.

Have you read any of Coates' work? He writes for The Atlantic (The Case For Reparations was an incredibly journalistic accomplishment; The Black Family in the Age of Mass Incarceration is in the Oct 2015 issue), has been published in the New York Times and has written two books. Between the World and Me is on the short list for the 2015 National Book Award, and Coates was just awarded a MacArthur Fellows grant.

Wednesday's talk was part of his book tour for Between the World and Me, his recently published letter to his son about the history and present of being black in America. Of blacks never having had full access to what Coates calls The Dream.

It is perfect houses with nice lawns. It is Memorial Day cookouts, block associations, and driveways. The Dream is treehouses and the Cub Scouts. The Dream smells like peppermint but tastes like strawberry shortcake. And for so long I have wanted to escape into the Dream, to fold my country over my head like a blanket. But this has never been an option because the Dream rests on our backs, the bedding made from our bodies.

The letter is, as he said in an interview, a literary construct, but Coates told us that he tried to be as unsparing in this book as he is when speaking with his son. Which is to say, brutally candid about his perspectives and confusion and fears, for blacks, America and his boy. 

He feels that in doing so, real trust is built, and I agree. He has a presence and authority that comes from mincing no words and buttressing his arguments with research and facts. 

Coates grew up in Baltimore. Looking back, after college at Howard University -which he credits as the watershed experience of his life- he believes it wasn't rage or violence that really explains all he saw and witnessed on his childhood streets. It was fear. 

Not being violent enough could cost me my body. Being too violent could cost me my body. We could not get out. I was a capable boy, intelligent, well-liked, but powerfully afraid. And I felt, vaguely, wordlessly, that for a child to be marked off for such a life, to be forced to live in fear was a great injustice. 

Coates' writing is so powerful. In print he often seems a hyper-intellectual firebrand. I love reading his work and admire him tremendously, but I wasn't sure what his in-real-life presence would be like. Would he seem prickly?

Not in the least. He is totally charming, affable, funny, warm, at ease and so very bright. I laughed, was brought to tears, and found myself repeatedly nodding my head in agreement or disbelief. It was an important night for me, and I enjoyed myself tremendously.

*******

Last night, T and I joined friends at Buck's Fishing and Camping (same place the Gabrielle Hamilton dinner was held; remember? I asked a three-part question!) for a dinner celebrating the release of Ruth Reichl's new cookbook/memoir, My Kitchen Year.

Long, long ago, I read two of Reichl's memoirs, Tender at the Bone and Comfort Me With Apples. I can hardly remember the details, but I remember feeling enveloped by her stories, her writing, the way she wrote about childhood, adulthood, food.

I thought she was a marvelous editor at Gourmet and loved her emphasis on publishing long-form food writing. Real, substantive, literary work. When Conde Nast suddenly and unceremoniously shuttered the magazine's doors in 2009, I was both surprised and deeply disappointed. At that time, Reichl was 62, and couldn't recall the last time she hadn't had a job. What was her identity without one?

She did what she'd always done when stressed or sad. She went to her kitchen and cooked. My Kitchen Year is the result. It's a simply presented book, 136 recipes dancing with stretches of Reichl's effortless prose. You feel you can make these recipes and do so successfully, and I believe that's Reichl's aim.

She wants people back in the kitchen because she knows what transpires when one cooks to nourish oneself and others. It's something along the lines of healing. At least it was for her. 

Of course I asked a question, which was along the lines of the place and future of food memoir in a time that often prefers soundbites, and later got to sit by Ruth for a while. She was gracious and lovely and signed not only my copy of My Kitchen Year but also the old paperback copies of Tender at the Bone and Comfort Me With Apples I'd pulled from my 'favorites' shelf as I ran out the door.

Through the Wine Glass: a review of The Red Hen

A few days ago, Tom's parents invited the boys to spend the night so that they could take them to Luray Caverns the next day. As today is Columbus Day and there's no school, it was decided that we'd bring them over yesterday evening after Jack's baseball game.

Tom and I were tired after a busy weekend but decided that since we had a rare evening off and no babysitter on the clock, we'd pick a restaurant, no matter the distance, get dressed and go.

"The Red Hen," we declared, and way downtown to Bloomingdale we drove. Literally. We drove to 1st St and live near 50th. We had no idea if they'd have room for us, and indeed when I asked, a table was a two-hour wait. On a Sunday. This is testament to The Red Hen's popularity.

But theirs is a sizeable bar, and as T and I rather prefer sitting at the bar anyway, we settled in to wait after scoping out several duos who appeared to be winding down.

view, through my wine glass, of part of The Red Hen's kitchen

I ordered an unusual Trebbiano blend, an Italian white, and T his preferred, a saison-style beer, and just as we settled in to each other, relaxing under the weightlessness of no schedule and no children for 18 hours, two bar stools were vacated and we moved in.

The menu is full of hearty fare that incorporates a wide array of seasonal veggies, artisanal meats, seafood and cheese in unique ways. In short, I loved the offerings. 

We started with the Roasted Beet & Goat Cheese Bruschetta with Capers, Mint & Toasted Pistachios as well as a plate of Charred Octopus with Sweet Potato Hummus, Braised Beans ‘alla Romesco,’ Shaved Fennel & Frisee. 

roasted beet and goat cheese bruschetta with pistachios

The bruschetta was lovely, and I enjoyed not only the small dice of the roasted beets but also the micro greens and pistachios. If the capers were there, I couldn't find them. And that's OK because I'm not totally sure how those would pair with the nuts. Food for thought.

charred octopus with sweet potato hummus and frisee

The octopus was assertively charred (which makes me swoon) but still tender which is a tough line to tow, but I can't say that I loved the sweet potato hummus and black beans with it. The shaved fennel and frisee were perfect accompaniments though, and I was happy they were there in generous fashion. Tom liked this dish more than I did and was unfazed by the beans.

We both felt our entree choices and second round drink choices hit things out of the park. I was hungry and felt decidedly carnivorous, so once the delightful male bartender assured me that  pig had lived a happy life, I chose the Mezze Rigatoni with Fennel Sausage Ragu & Pecorino Romano. 

People, I would pay good money of another bowl of this right now. I shared several of the sizeable (too-large in my opinion) fennel sausage chunks with Tom who gratefully and quickly devoured each boulder, but when he tried to take more pasta, I nearly sliced his hand off.

"Step away from my perfect mezze rigatoni man!" 

The sauce...oh, I weep for the fact that it's gone. It was rich and complex and creamy but not too creamy and tomatoey but in just the right way. And that snow shower of coarsely grated pecorino? Mamma mia!! As if I needed more pleasure, I ordered a glass of Montepulciano which was the perfect pairing.

T chose the Caramelized Scallops with Autumn Squash Chowder, Mussels, Smoky Bacon, Fregola, Basil & Breadcrumbs and was equally thrilled. I try over and over again to enjoy scallops, but I simply do not. That said, that stuff the scallops were nestled on?? Fantastic! I love fregola (a Sardinian pasta similar to pearled couscous), and this "chowder" is an excellent way to use it. It was bacony and squashy and the basil gave it just enough sweet brightness.

one of the best desserts I've ever had!

Tom has sworn off sugar since July which has mostly worked in my favor, but last night I really wanted to share dessert with him and he obliged. We chose the unbelievably spectacular Sugar Cream Tart with Toasted Pecan Crust, Honey Gelato & Candied Pecans, and after the first bite, I was sorry he'd agreed to split it with me.

Naturally.

I cannot even tell y'all A) how good sugar cream tarts are and B) how quickly today I researched a recipe and bought all the ingredients to make it. It's like a sweet cream custard that tastes as if it's been slightly bruleed and then set atop a crust (and in this case the toasted pecan element was epically good) and served with caramel and an ethereal cloud of honey gelato. 

I actually did want a second piece.

Other than one of the female bartenders who was not terribly helpful in giving us a sense of anything and asserted that 500ml was much more than 16 ounces (when in fact it's 16.9 ounces) thus making T even more sure that he did not want to splurge on the very expensive 500ml beer he was eyeing, everyone was friendly, the ambiance is warm and bouncy and intimate, and the food was really excellent.

Five stars to The Red Hen. Thanks for a wonderful evening.

In the news...

Restaurant review a'coming tomorrow, but yesterday was a good day and today a damn busy one. In the news, in short order:

I taught a terrific Canning 101 class at Strosniders. We made my Apple, Pear and Lemon Thyme Jam; those who stayed to chat after class ended got to take home all the leftovers. Fun!
Thanks to everyone who came and to Strosniders for having me back. 

I had another essay, The Sweetest Traditions Are Often the Simplest, published on The Huffington Post. Exciting!

And, a sandwich I recently created - was nominated for a community pick on Food52. Want to eat some seasonal deliciousness for lunch this week? Make this: Apple, Bacon, Caramelized Red Onion Sandwiches with Arugula-Thyme Spread. I thought it was so good that as soon as I finished the first, I made a second one and ate that too.