Nigella Lawson: A Very Personal Story

My life -- more specifically my life as a writer -- was changed for the better this week. I attribute this phenomenon, in large part, to an opportunity I was granted through my freelancing for OnMilwaukee.com.

Nigella Lawson made a visit to Milwaukee on Thursday to promote her new book, "Nigellissima." Thanks to a serendipitous email on the part of my editor, I was able to meet with her for a face-to-face interview. Our time together was brief, just longer than half an hour, but within that time I experienced what I can only call an epiphany.

I'll confess that I'm not always all that excited about interviewing celebrities, not because they're ever really unpleasant, but moreso because most interviews end up feeling oddly cold -- more like a business transaction than a conversation between two warm-blooded, living human beings. But, my conversation with Nigella was... very different.

Yes, I took the obligatory "fan shot" (which, in retrospect, feels a bit cheap and silly). And I did get her to sign a book for me. But, still. There was something quite unique about our interaction. And I can't get it out of my head.

Before I delve more deeply into my experience, I should probably explain that I'm very rarely "star struck." I don't know why. I just don't get excited about these sorts of things. Even the knowledge that I would be meeting THE Nigella Lawson "in the flesh" didn't really have what might be described as "the usual" effect on me.

Now, that isn't to say I don't have an interest. I've been following Nigella for a good many years. While I missed out on most of her career as a British journalist, I did follow her columns in "Vogue" magazine, as well as her work in "Bon Appetit" and "Gourmet." Ever impressed by her personal connections to food, and her uncanny ability to connect with the reader through her experiences, I was a shoe-in to purchase her very first book, "How to Eat," when it was published in the States.

Although I was interviewing her with regard to her newest book, I felt compelled to bring my copy of that first tome with me to our interview. In fact, I introduced the interview with a very sincere thank you to her for writing a book that so clearly communicated her love for food, and which -- more importantly -- did so in such a personal way.

While I expected a cordial response to my --possibly sappy-- introduction, what I received was far beyond anything I could have envisioned.

"Thank you," she responded with the most heartfelt of smiles. "I put my heart and soul into everything, but this is absolutely everything I believe. This is my first-born and it has a special place in my heart -- also because, in a way, it was an odd book for me to write, having not hitherto been a food writer. And also because -- how strange that I was allowed to write this … that is a work that's not exactly a cookbook, not exactly a piece of food writing, but something in between. I tried to talk about food in my life personally, and where I feel it fits in generally. I find that most people who like reading, and who like food, respond to it. If I’m at a book signing, and people come back and bring that to me, I immediately feel there’s a very strong connection and rapport, because it’s kind of soul to soul."

Her response was believable -- not only because she said those words, but because the remainder of our interview had such a personal tone to it.

We sat openly in the lobby of the hotel -- quite within view of everyone who happened to take a stroll in or out. Her demeanor was very much without pretense, and our interactions were far less "professional" than I expected. In fact, our entire interaction felt very much like the reintroduction of two estranged friends, who simply needed a bit of a warm-up to return to their former intimacy.

Certainly, she answered my questions. But, she opened herself up to the dialog in a way I've not really seen in most interactions I've had with celebrity. She shared the story of the creation of the book -- which took place in the wake of her late husband's cancer diagnosis. She mused on the relationship of her work to feminism, and her perspectives on the authenticity of ethnic cuisines. She shared some of her favorite cookbooks, including detailed explanations of why she enjoys each one -- and where I could get copies of the most beloved, if I was interested.

And, although her schedule was tight, and my interview time had gone over by at least ten minutes, Nigella remained a few moments more to chat with me about a brownie recipe of hers that I've been making and enjoying for quite a few years now.

Peef would later describe our conversation on Twitter:

And yet, it wasn't so far from the truth. In fact, when we were done talking, she gave me a great big hug.

Was I speechless? Oddly, no.
But, was I moved? Absolutely.

In fact, I spent the remainder of the day basking in a very surreal feeling -- the sensation, I suppose, of having truly connected with someone whose love for what she is doing far surpasses the notoriety she enjoys in doing it. And that... well, it changed me in a way I could never have envisioned.

Thank you, Nigella.

Everyday Brownies - Nigella Lawson

NOTE: I'll be postinga link the interview over on Facebook when it goes life on Wednesday, February 27th... in case you're interested.

©BURP!

Blogging: Six Impossible Things Before Breakfast

Alice laughed: "There's no use trying," she said; "one can't believe impossible things." 

"I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was younger, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."  ~ Alice in Wonderland

You'll pardon me (I hope) for this brief interlude.

The fact is, I've been feeling a bit bedraggled lately, and the whole blogging bit has started to feel a bit like a chore. When we started out, we were fueled by the challenge of creating something new. Stoked about honing our skills. And ready for anything.  But, the truth is... life has gone a little crazy.

If I'm honest, I'll admit that it's been pretty insane adjusting to the writing load of two blogs (while working full-time, mind you).  And, while I vowed that my commitment to Milwaukee Magazine wouldn't interfere in my enjoyment of -- and dedication to -- Burp!, I must confess that I was stressing about things pretty hardcore just before the holidays.  I was starting to feel tapped out.  And I seriously wondered if I could keep this whole blogging thing up for much longer.

In the nearly two weeks I had off of work around the holidays, I found myself taking a much needed break from blogging.  I didn't warn people or call attention to it, in part because most of you were off taking vacations of your own and you probably didn't even notice.  I didn't write. I didn't cook much (aside from working on a seriously delicious recipe development project that I committed to before the holidays). I did a ton of reading (many thanks to Peef for the Kindle he got me for Christmas).  And I took the opportunity to breathe a little bit.

Wow. It's amazing what a bit of oxygen will do for your brain.

Since the break, I've been a little slow on the uptake. But a few days ago I managed to get myself together and I started reading blogs again. I'm not quite back to my old pace, but I did manage to glimpse a few posts that are worth mentioning.

These are the sort of posts I adore.  The pieces that inspire me to stretch.  The ones that remind me that food blogging isn't just about quantity... it's also about quality and authenticity... the pieces that underscore some of the reasons why I'm still here blogging.

• You Say You Want a Resolution (Voodoo & Sauce) - an apt reminder that sometimes more is... well... More.
• Test Driving Yeasted Beer Bread (CakeWalk) - a great reminder that personal growth & constant experimentation always drives a good blog (not to mention recipe development).
• Lentils With Chocolate. No, Really. (We Are Never Full) - because unexpected flavor combinations make the world go round, y'all.

Last spring, I read an article discussing the use of social media as tools for "connecting," rather than "networking."  In it one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman, gave this advice:  "It’s much more important to write than to blog," he said, "so only blog if it makes you happy and if you have something to say."

If I'm honest, I have to admit that there's very little in life that makes me happier than cooking, writing, and blogging. And the fact is, despite the fact that the Web is now positively glutted with food media (some of which, I must admit, isn't worth reading), I am still enjoying what I'm doing.  So, I guess I found my answer.

So, as crazy as it sounds, I'm going to keep on believing in those impossible things. And writing about them too... Maybe even before breakfast.

For those of you wondering why in heaven's name I'd bother to post these ramblings -- I just want to offer a few words of explanation.  If there's one thing I've learned (and appreciated) about food blogging, it's that there's a real community surrounding the writers and readers of food blogs. One thing I'm certain about is that you've all "been there" in some way, shape, or form. So, you can relate to where I'm coming from. And hey -- if you have any advice to share, I'm all ears.


©BURP! Where Food Happens
Want more? Read Lo's latest ruminations at FOODCrush, her Milwaukee Magazine blog.

Why I cook

It wasn't a difficult question. So, why did it give me so much pause?

Michael Ruhlman, cookbook author and blogger extraordinaire, recently posted a challenge to bloggers to write about the reasons we cook -- because "Writing it down forces you to know what you think."

Maybe it's that I didn't really know the answer to the question.  Or maybe it's that the answer was woven so deeply into the core of my being that I had trouble finding the language to describe it.  Cooking, after all, is tied up in the very soul of who I am.


I don't cook because it's "easier".
Or because I feel obligated.
Cooking isn't something that I do just because I was told I should.
And I definitely don't cook just because I want to eat (although that's motivation enough, some days).

Cooking = creation.  And for me, that creative process is everything. It empowers me. It forces me to engage with chemical processes and living organisms -- leavening, fermentation, yeast, baking soda. Ultimately, cooking allows me to glimpse yet another facet of who I am as a person. A woman. A friend. A wife.  Cooking gives me the opportunity to bring something new into the world. To create wonderful new things. And to share them with others.

For me, cooking is relaxation. It's about repetition. The cracking of one egg after another on the countertop. It's about the meditation of chopping vegetables after a long day at work. And the hum of the water coming to a boil on the stovetop. It's about satiating that deep ache with something that fills me up and reminds me that life is good.

I cook because it gives me power over the food that goes into my body. Let's face it, in today's world the quality of the food we eat is often in question.  Cooking gives me the opportunity to take the reigns and create new options.  Cooking allows me to say "no."  No GMO's. No fast food. No high fructose corn syrup. No unhappy cows or chickens or pigs. No fake food.  Cooking allows me to say "yes."  Yes to frosting made with real butter. Yes to locally grown organic produce.  Yes to real ingredients that I can actually pronounce. Yes to nourishing traditions that make a difference for myself and my family.

I cook to regain a connection to my food and the human beings who produce it. When I visit the farmer's market on a Saturday morning, I feel like a forager in search of wonderful, hidden treasures.  The ingredients I find often predict the meals I'll cook for the next week. And the friends I make along the way are priceless. They're farmers, artisans, business owners.  They're people who care just as much about where their products come from as I do. And they're the human beings that I've chosen to support with my food dollars. 

Cooking gives me the opportunity to share what I know, the places where I've been, and the experiences I've had.  When I pull that jar of dried harissa from the cupboard and mix it with water, olive oil, garlic, and salt, it takes me back to another time and place.  My flavor memory transports me to the dusty streets of Tunis, the markets of Hammamet, the ruins of Carthage.  But, that harissa also allows me to share a piece of that memory with people who weren't there with me -- my husband, my best friend, my sister, my grandmother. It offers me a segue to share those stories, to relive those moments, and to create new memories with the people I love most.

I cook because I'm grateful. The ability to cook is a gift. And it's something I can give back to others.  I can share it with my family. My friends. I can use it to not only entertain them -- but nourish them. Cooking gives me the opportunity to care for others around me. To create an experience they're remember -- something that will weave itself into the memories they carry with them, which make them who they are.

I cook because cooking leads to eating. And eating is one of the most intimate acts in which we can engage as human beings.

Why do YOU cook?


©BURP! Where Food Happens

Fight Back Fridays: The Daffodil Principle

Some time ago, a friend sent me a copy of The Daffodil Principle If you've never seen it, I've linked up to a version of it on YouTube -- and I'd encourage you to watch it.

It occurred to me when I was considering what to post for Fight Back Fridays that "The Daffodil Principle" really embodies our philosophies regarding food... eating... and fighting back against conventional nutrition.

Before you stop reading and chalk us up for the biggest saps you've ever met, I'm going to ask you to give it a chance. Think about it.

I haven't been Eating Consciously for my entire life.
Neither of us have -- in fact, it's probably only been in the past two or three years that we've really made the decision to make serious changes to the way we think about food & eating.

We also didn't change our eating habits in one fell swoop.
No -- making changes to our diet has been a series of baby steps. I think one of the first stages of our transition occurred when we became conscious of how many servings of fruits and vegetables we were getting in a day. When we decided to opt for more (and better) servings of veggies, we started eating more leafy greens, broccoli, and other crucifers. Then, we took a look at the quality of the grains we were ingesting. We switched to whole wheat pasta, brown rice, and started trying out alternative grains like quinoa, spelt, and millet. We started reading labels. I started reading books and articles.

We changed the oils we were consuming. We ditched nasty fats like canola and vegetable oils. We embraced extra virgin olive oil, coconut oil, and red palm oil. We banned margerine from our refrigerator and welcomed back lard and bacon fat (from uncured, nitrate-free bacon).

We went BACK to eating butter and full-fat dairy. We started buying organic milk. And now we've switched (almost entirely) to non-homogenized milk.

We're still in process. It's a journey. And we approach it step-by-step, daffodil-by-daffodil. We know we won't change the way the world works in one day. Or even a lifetime. But, we persist -- thoughtfully -- and focus on the every day work of things. We've begun to really THINK when we put together a meal. What's in this meal? What's nourishing me? And when we make choices that are contrary to the wisdom we've acquired, we're doing so consciously (not unconsciously, as we did for many years).

These days, we're working on the sugar. We've all but abolished high fructose corn syrup from our diet, and we're working on getting rid of processed nastiness altogether. We're not perfect. We still eat some conventional manufactured sugars, and we still bow down to our Sweet Teeth every now and again, but we've started the switch to a higher concentration of natural sweeteners like maple syrup, raw honey, and sucanet.

We're moving forward. And it's a Beautiful thing.

Join us -- You can start by checking out all the great stuff at Food Renegades' Fight Back Friday Event.


©BURP! Where Food Happens