“I look at my crammed shelves and feast with artful reflection, for no meal is good that cannot be reflected upon with pleasure.”

– MFK Fisher, “L is for Literature,” An Alphabet for Gourmets

I believe any “foodie” who has read the works of MFK Fisher considers her some sort of kindred spirit because of what she says about food. I can’t say I’m immune. But, what I truly love about her is how she says it. The reverence for the joy of eating, the beauty of her revelations, and the ultimate respect for the power and playfulness of the written word continue to astound me.

“Given the fact that almost every gastronomer has some kind of literary predilection, it is amusing and interesting to speculate on the whys and whens of such a love.”

My mouth waters at my own feast of literature and library of food on my bookshelves – or stacked in odd corners, stashed on the bed-table, hiding on top of the fridge, bouncing around my handbag or sadly stored away in boxes. All are memories of or hints at the little pieces of solitary joy the greedy, voracious reader – or the equally indulgent gastronome – is intimately familiar with . Yet food, and its literature, is often best when shared.

“Sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged in lightly.”

Sharing food, or words, is all about possibility. Possibility of knowing yourself or others better, of approaching new ideas or perspectives, of long journeys not yet imagined, of tastes not yet tasted, of dinners not yet attended or, sometimes,  just circumstances you can’t expect.  And, naturallijk, all the little pleasures and heartbreaks that come inbetween. I can have a light meal, light read or a light chat, but that spark that happens in great literature, great food, great conversation or great writing about any of those — that — I can never take lightly.

(04/14/11 – while I figure out wtf I’m doing here, you can see wtf I’m trying to figure out over at entropicalia.wordpress.com)

2009: RIP Gourmet Magazine

My anger and injury over the closing of Gourmet has been simmering since I heard the news back in October. But, I am not about immediacy. I prefer long cooked dishes, lingering dinners, and well thought out plans. Blogging is a counter-intuitive medium for me, as many bloggers, and even the “successful blog” model rely on posting frequently. The passing of 2009, however, lets me revisit this piece I wrote and abandoned:

We are living in interesting times where the future of newspapers and print media are uncertain. The most disappointing thing to me is the dirth of quality journalism – and sometimes this even prevents me from pressing the publish button. I would rather read one well researched, well written, well edited article than 30 short, quickly published blog entries. But don’t get me wrong – I don’t care about the medium, as long as the writing is something worth reading. Now,  there are more words available, more people writing them, and more places to read them, but quality writing is rare even through established venues. Traditional newspapers are some of the worst offenders – why do I care if your paper no longer exists when your staff cuts has dropped your quality level so extremely (NYT I’m looking at you)?

The closing of Gourmet Magazine felt like the death of a friend. No, the murder of a friend. I might be on the young end of the demographic, but I’ve been a reader for over 10 years. Maybe more than a reader.  I was attached to it – even when I lived abroad and couldn’t find the magazine, my mother would send me her back issues to sate me. Impassioned arguments were made by publishers and bloggers when the news surfaced, yet I didn’t and don’t agree with any of them. I don’t think the ‘blogosphere’ has enlightened me, I don’t find the Cook’s Illustrated model very interesting, and I’m absolutely sick of the food tv/magazine/book/blogging obsessive focus on recipes. One of the arguments I’ve heard for the closing of one of the Conde Nast food magazines is that the websites, blogs, etc have filled the niche for food writing and recipes. And I agree – the internet fills the exact niche that made it easy to stop reading Bon Appetit. In January 2009 I cancelled my subscription because the boring articles and uninspired recipes didn’t seem worth the meager $15/year. It was frustrating, or rather, actively irritating enough that I didn’t want it coming to me every month, especially when I have access to a wide number of blogs and websites that I can get similar content from. And despite its dwindling pages, I kept my Gourmet subscription because even with reduced content I have found nothing to replace it.

Sauver and Gastronomica are magazines I follow, and Food & Wine can be a good read, but Gourmet was unique in its devotion to (what I consider) the “good life.” My devotion to the magazine was due to its focus on quality. Not just a focus on tasty food – everything about it was well considered – outstanding writing, fantastic photography, thorough research, strong editorial voice without ever being overpowering – and most important to me, an element of fantasy. Maybe I’m not the customer Conde Nast is looking for, but I was well aware that there are ingredients, and restaurants, and travel locations that I could never afford within those beautiful mute-gloss pages. And I liked that. I wanted to be transported, I wanted inspiration. The last thing I want, or wanted, is another variation on a quick recipe to make after coming home from a day of work. I do that every freaking day, and I don’t read for affirmation. Gourmet, rest in peace, was like nothing else.  I wanted to read something beautiful – beautiful in its craft – that combination of cooking, dining, writing, design, communicating – and to my mind Gourmet is the only periodical that ever got the balance right.

To add insult to injury, my Gourmet subscription was commuted into a Bon Appetit subscription.  I read the January issue that came to me, then promptly hurled its testament to mediocrity across the room.  Today I officially subscribed to Savuer.  2010, my first Gourmet-less year.