Hey, so my guest today is award-winning chef, writer, teacher, and gatherer of people, Samin Nosrat.
She wrote the iconic book Salt Fat Acid, Heat and starred in the beloved Netflix series of the same name.
That really changed the way millions of people understand food.
And now she's back with a new blockbuster book, Good Things, which celebrates the power of simple meals and shared tables and the essential role of community in a life well-lived.
But our conversation, it's about something much bigger, life.
I'll see you next time. or a subtle but powerful shift in how you think about time that can reshape the way you live and love and work and gather in a simple weekly ritual that becomes a lifeline back to connection, belonging, and joy.
These are just a few of the threads we explore really in a conversation that feels tender and honest and human.
It's about the quiet moments that shape us, the loud ones that shatter us and the small, consistent acts that stitch us back together.
Thank you so much for having me.
So excited to share it with you.
I'm Jonathan Fields, and this is Good Life Project.
Yeah, you know, excited to dive in.
I really loved talking to you last time.
Yeah, I've learned since our last convo also that you and I have some kind of weird overlaps.
Oh, cool.
So out of the gate, I open up your gorgeous new book.
And of course, it's gorgeous because it's you.
And I'm looking at the photo opposite the intro page.
And it's this old blue notebook that's obviously really well used.
And sitting on top of it is a Blackwing Palomino pencil.
Oh, I love them.
And I'm like, okay, like that one choice says so much about who you are as a human being.
And by the way, I'm holding up right now.
This is, this is, this is one of my volumes.
Yeah.
This is one of the, the, the, the shepherd fairy black.
I love those pencils.
They're so good.
There's something magical about them.
I don't know why.
I mean, They're just a delight in that they look different and they feel so good, but also the lead is just a dream.
At some point I was like, I know they're expensive, but I just can't have any other pencils.
I'm the exact same way.
We've established that we're both nerds around writing and writing implements and things like that.
I was listening a little bit earlier this year actually, to a conversation that you were having with your dear friend Rishi on this Song Exploder podcast.
And you were talking about a moment where you were on a visit to Vassar, potentially looking at it as a place to go.
Friend invited you to this Andy DeFranco concert and you heard for the first time this song.
Untouchable Face that.
Kind of changed your life and let you feel deeply and expressly in a way that you hadn't in a really long time.
I actually had Ani on the podcast.
Oh, amazing.
Just over the summer.
Amazing.
And we were talking about how music can change people.
One of her older songs I was listening to just before I sat down with her.
And I was sharing how I was literally hiking in the mountains listening to this song.
And I was just weeping as I was walking.
Yeah.
And I'm like, this song was not written for me or to me, but it was.
There was something so powerful about it.
Your story of how you were moved by this one song, it just really stuck with me.
Can you share a little bit about that moment and what led up to it?
Yeah.
So I'm the child of Iranian immigrants.
And I think one sort of fundamental thing that I learned as a young kid was do your homework study, get into a good college.
That is the most important thing.
And so I really took that to heart.
And I did that.
And I ended up at a really academically rigorous school and high school which was just made to send kids to high-end colleges and universities.
And at some point, I decided I wanted to go to Vassar.
I had a friend who had gone there.
I heard about it.
It became my dream school.
And so I applied and I got in, you know, and this was this thing, like I'd been told like study, go to school, like that's the thing.
So I sort of like held up my end of the bargain.
And then, as this sort of like date was approaching of the decision of someplace to go, I think it was dawning on my family that I really wanted to leave.
And my grandfather was Like who – nobody –.
In so many ways I was this sort of like typical older immigrant child who had to like figure out a lot of things for myself.
And so a lot – everything about applying for college and what college to go to.
I was just – it was not family guidance that was getting me there.
It was curiosity at school and asking teachers and friends.
And so I think finally they were like – uh-oh, she's going to leave and that's not okay with our family culture and our values.
And so my grandfather told my dad, you have to tell her she can't go.
And so we went on this, there was sort of like a, I was like, well, we got to go see the school.
My dad took me to visit Vassar and he dropped me off and I stayed with my friend.
And she was like oh, we're gonna go to this concert tonight.
And i was like okay whatever, like.
And so it was this person annie defranco was singing, who i didn't, i wasn't familiar with, i didn't know.
And here i just felt like oh, i'm on a college campus and um, so we go to this concert.
I'm not familiar with this music at all and then at some point probably either, i think toward the end, i'm guessing, toward the end she starts playing the song untouchable face, and I don't know the word.
So I'm just sort of like trying to pay attention and everyone starts singing along.
And there's a point where she says, fuck you and your untouchable face.
And that just felt so like transgressive, because here I was just this, like Goody, two shoes, like following the rules, pleasing all adults.
You know, I was like, what?
We're in a chapel and she's saying, fuck you.
You know, like, but it was just like the room filled with this energy.
And so it sort of became like the anthem of this trip which sort of soured the trip.
Sort of soured and like, while I had a really nice time with my friend and I sort of was spent the whole weekend envisioning myself there, you know, unbeknownst to me, my dad was sort of collecting things to use like against the school as an argument, and so that when we returned he was like no no no, this place is far too liberal, like you need to stay home and go to UCSD.
And I kind of knew inside that if I did that, there was just something in me that I was like I'll die.
I'll die, like maybe not really, but like something inside of me will die, and I knew I had to get out.
And so there was just this very long ongoing family um schism.
I guess that happened over where i was gonna go to school, which i know, on the one hand, sounds so privileged and like crazy to have this sort of meltdown about, like which top tier school you're gonna go to.
But it also was the only thing that i had been told to do and like my whole existence had been about fulfilling this thing i'd been told to do when i was doing it and then, at the last second, like family members who like had really not been very interested or like curious about anything about my academic life, like All of a sudden we're then going to take that away from me.
And it just felt so threatening and so scary.
And ultimately led to an estrangement with my dad for the rest of my life.
And so there was just this way that the song...
I never said anything bad.
I only did good things.
And there was this bad word in a song.
And I was sort of discovering my own capacity for anger and resentment at my parents who, to me, I had only ever listened to and obeyed and tried to please.
And so there was a way where this song became representative of that moment and also sort of that like ongoing, sort of like period of young adulthood in my life.
It was a real shift for me, but I think a big part of it was like a discovery of this part of myself that I didn't know I had.
Yeah, it's like oh, there's this feeling that sometimes probably rises to the level of rage inside.
That's like I've done everything right.
I've checked all the boxes.
Everything that's been asked of me, I've done.
And I got the thing at the end of it.
That was supposed to be the reward and now it's not being offered to me.
And it was like this moment in you where you're just like, this is not okay.
Yeah, it felt such a betrayal.
And the song was just such a beautiful –
Right.
It's like I can express this.
Like I can feel it and then I can actually let it out.
Like that's real.
It's raw.
So many of us, I think, have like those moments.
Here's a bigger curiosity around this also.
So fast forward, right?
Like years go by.
You know, like Berkeley or like going to the world of food, this stunning phenomenon salt fat acid, heat comes out seven, eight years ago.
You end up creating something that I'm going to make the analogy.
You might be uncomfortable with it.
That, like Ani, went out into the world and actually changed, touched millions of people's lives too, or at least brought moments of joy and deep connection.
And I would imagine for a lot of people, reconnection to people that maybe they were estranged from back into their lives.
As that was happening and I asked Ani this question, I was like how did it feel to be somebody who creates work that does that?
Hmm.
And she was just kind of like, in a way, it's like it wasn't me.
I'm curious what your experience was of being behind a phenomenon that landed with people, that moved people like that.
Yeah, I agree with that.
I think I have sort of two parts of it.
One is I made a book.
I made this thing and I put it out in the world.
And I always was pretty clear once I put it out in the world, it wasn't mine anymore.
And in some ways I now feel very distant from it.
You know, like I just look at the book and I'm like, oh, interesting.
Like it's nice that it's a physical thing that I can look at, that I made, that I can have sort of a material relationship to you know, because I can really let go of it in that way.
But also there's then the part where there's almost like some sort of like synecdoche or something that happens in people's minds, that Where they conflate me with the thing.
And I'm sure that that in large part happened because then there was a television show around the world that they could see me and get to know me, or feel like they got to know me.
And so then I become this symbol for salt fat acid heat, which is like.
I'm very aware that my name people know salt fat acid heat way more than they know my name.
And I like that.
I don't want them.
I don't need everyone to know my name.
So I am like a piece of this bigger thing.
But there's a lot that gets projected onto me by people.
And that has been hard for me and is complicated.
And yeah, I've really struggled with.
Partly because I want to offer people what it is that they want from me.
I want to give them joy, I want to give them a moment of connection when they like stop me on the street or see me or are having a great like excitement, when they like run into me in a store or something.
But I also like a person having my own experience of my in my body and in my life and in my head and it's not always aligned with like being able to do that for people because I it also costs a lot for me, and so That has been a big struggle is sort of becoming the symbol of the thing.
Yeah, I think for anybody who puts work into the world, that in some way touches other people.
And maybe maybe some people are totally fine with it.
Maybe some people just like bring it on.
Like I am the thing and like the more direct the channel, the better.
I'm more like you, like I've never been like I'm like I love to create things that go into the world and the thing becomes the source of whatever it is.
Like I don't even care if anyone knows my name.
I would almost rather like they don't so I can just kind of live in a cave.
I'm just, it's never been about that.
And you had this moment where you it wasn't just the book, that was the thing.
You as a human being were, the thing.
Your life, your lens, the way that you showed up was the thing.
When we last talked, you know this was Had the show come out or had the book come out?
When I talked to you
I think the show had come out.
So this was like late 2018, if I remember correctly.
So the show was probably pretty recently on air.
So that brought a level of just exposure to you as a person. in a whole different way.
And back then you actually mentioned to me heading out to a cabin in the desert, away from everyone.
Just kind of get your bearings back and figure out what you wanted with this torrent of attention coming at you.
I wrote down actually what I was just listening to.
I wrote down, you said, I realize I'm not in a place to say yes or no to anything.
So I'm just putting a hold on any decision making until I have quiet time to figure out what makes any sense to do.
I know if I don't decide to do something because I care about it in my heart, I will be miserable.
I'm in the opposite place now where I'm like, I just want to say no to everything.
Yeah.
I mean, I've been curious about that.
Like, did you, did you take that space?
And we'll talk about some of the stuff that's unfolded in the intervening years also.
But like I felt like when we talked last time, you were in this window where you're like my head is spinning.
There are astonishing things happening, you know, coming, you use the word coming at me.
Yes, it was all coming at me.
Right.
You know, and on the one hand, it's like, what an incredible blessing.
How can I not just like acknowledge that?
And the other hand, you're like, how do I live through this?
What was sort of like the immediate future after that like for you?
I did go to the cabin in the desert.
And then I invited press there.
Like there was a way where I mean not for, not the whole time, but there was a one, one thing I let.
Come there, you know, and I'm like There was just I'm not so good with the boundaries.
I'm getting better.
But like I also yeah, it's interesting to hear that I said it that way that I needed the quiet because I didn't want to miss something good.
Whereas now I'm like, I need the quiet.
Because I need to make space for whatever it is that I want to do.
That's a big difference.
Yeah.
And I also just need rest.
I came home.
I basically, since August, have been to nearly 30 cities.
And I came home. like a little over a week ago.
And I also was sick by the time, you know, you get worn down.
And so I was just so exhausted and so sick.
Just like physically, my ankle was sprained, like everything falling apart.
And I was like, I don't want to do anything.
There's all these things.
Like there are a few things I sort of have to do next year.
And I'm like, cancel that.
Like just end the sub stack, quit everything.
Like don't, I don't want to do anything.
And as I like, you know, my sinus infection has sort of like gone down.
I'm a little better now.
I'm like okay, maybe I don't, I like that's not the best place to make decisions from, but I'm just.
I have the opposite feeling now of if I say yes to things that are not like truly, truly important, coming from deep inside of me, I will regret it.
And in a way, that was part of why making the second book was so complicated and hard for me was that, on the one hand, I did want to make a second book and I had a good idea.
And, on the other hand, I very much felt the pressure of the strike while the iron is hot and sell this idea right now.
And so I did do that.
Actually, I worked on that book proposal in the desert.
And I thought I was taking time because it was almost two years since Salt Fat Acid Heat had come out.
But it wasn't enough quiet time to get really, really clear inside of myself.
It's very scary.
We all live in such a production-focused world.
And the forces of capitalism just are so intense, even if you try to be aware of them.
And on some of us more than others, there's just that pressure, going often from inside, to produce and make.
And I really have that.
And so it's been hard for me to be like I'm just going to have some fallow time, which the world and my life sort of forced me into, regardless of whether or not I was going to do it.
I mean not only the pandemic, but then I sort of had an extended period of like grieving and then my I had another sort of extended period of my dad dying and then like the sort of aftermath of that.
So there was a lot of ways in which like the circumstances of my life forced me to stop working.
I just couldn't.
I like just physically and emotionally like wasn't able to.
But how nice would it be to make that a conscious choice and decide to take some downtime rather than to like be forced into it.
Yeah, and I think so many of us.
We don't actually do that until we're brought to our knees by something outside of us or something that's a blend of inside and outside.
And we're like, oh, now I guess I have to listen because I actually can't do anything but that.
I often wonder why...
It takes that.
You know we both sat down with so many people who are studied and you know like deeply philosophical and theological, and they know all the things.
It's one thing to know.
It's another thing to practice.
It really is.
You know, it's a different thing, especially when you have, you know, and as you described, like your whole upbringing, you sort of like you're brought up with a certain ethos, you know, and then you take that and you bundle it with hey, something astonishing has just happened to you that happens to almost nobody, right.
The window is probably only going to be open for a short amount of time.
Take advantage of everything you can while it's open.
And meanwhile, there's a voice inside of you saying, that might kill me.
And you've got to battle that.
And it's a fraught place to be.
Yeah.
And there's a whole other layer of I'm sort of internally going through this thing while externally the world is sort of observing me be a capital S success and I'm getting all of the sort of attention and praise and trappings of that that in many ways I'd always wanted.
That wouldn't anyone want.
And certainly that most of my friends who are writers and other types of artists and creative people would give anything to have.
So it felt really complicated to have uh, tortured relationship to it and it still does.
Like i don't want to come off like i'm complaining, i'm so grateful for it.
And the other thing i didn't get to say when you asked about like, how do i feel about having made this thing and the people's response to it like Some of the best moments I don't have the ability to sit back and look at what I've done for the world and think about it in a sort of zoom out 30000.
I can't do that.
That would not be good for my mind or my ego or anything.
But there are these little glimpses and these little moments that I get to have.
When people come up to me and I'm in a receptive place, and especially when it's like any sort of type of like marginalized person who often says something about like what.
Not only the work has meant to them, but seeing me has meant to them.
And that often is like the most sort of fulfilling part, like thing, response type of response that I can have and gives me the best feeling about like wow, this feels really good because I know I didn't get to see somebody like me for my whole life and so that's something i'm really proud of.
Is that i get to be visible for people who don't feel seen.
Yeah, i mean, and part of me wonders at the same time like i hear that and like that must feel really incredible inside.
I wonder if there's another voice that sometimes accompanies that that says, especially for like, as you described, like if you start to become seen as the model representative for a, is there a sense of responsibility that then you step into.
Well, I've got to behave in a certain way.
I've got to show up in a certain way, because now people are looking to me to see like how to stand in this moment.
What's possible.
And what if I fall?
Yeah, I definitely feel that.
I feel that just in tiny ways.
Like I basically put on a cloak when I leave my home, like some sort of protective cloak of like not only like my energy force field, but also just I kind of know there's like a subconscious sort of like switch that clicks of like I don't know.
You can't throw a tantrum in public.
You can't be grumpy at the coffee store.
I can't cut people off in traffic.
Not that I'm always trying to or whatever, but I just am very aware that it means something.
My girlfriend and I will be driving and she's always like, you're driving like a grandma.
And she's like, make a U-turn.
Take that parking spot.
And I was like, oh, no, no, no.
I was like, I can't do that.
I can't make an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street.
Like someone will see me.
I was like, no, no, no.
There's just a sense that I can't do that.
I can't be that way, which I'm like, it's not an unfamiliar sense to me.
It's just amplified.
Yeah.
And we'll be right back after a word from our sponsors.
So the pandemic hits as you shared.
You know your dad also drops into illness and eventually passes.
And kind of like through weaving through, like the same season-ish, you also start to realize that there's.
You're looking back at your life, especially your very early life, and realizing there's a lot of anger in the house.
And there is a lot of probably, grief that you didn't realize for an older sister that had died very young, when you were young.
Didn't really have any memories as an adult.
But you're starting to realize maybe actually there was something there for me that I'm just not processing.
So there's like this soup of disruption and grief and loss that's just like perpetually being stirred with you.
And then the pandemic kind of like makes it hard to process and be with people during this whole thing.
For you it sounds like making, like working with food and with raw materials has always been such a place of sanctuary and salvation, especially being able to actually do that with others that you love.
But this was a time where it sounds like it was harder to do that.
I mean, due to the depression, I lost my appetite.
Hmm.
I lost my own interest in cooking, and the cooking has largely been a way for me to connect with friends.
It's often, and through most of my life, been like really social work.
You know, like just you go to work and you cook with other cooks and you talk and you see what they're doing and there's like sort of inspiration, but also just like fun and collegiality.
So that, you know, I didn't have.
And I was just so lonely.
I was so lonely in all of the ways.
And you know I love that your show is called Good Life Project because that was sort of became, in a way, like that could have been the title, for what I was doing was.
I was trying to orient myself.
I kind of got this clarity.
I was like I spent my whole life trying to achieve because on some level I believed that achieving and producing would lead to to happiness, would it would make my parents happy, it would make me happy, it would fill this like deep hole in my heart and like i would no longer feel this like deep sense of loneliness and sadness.
That is, i've always thought of sort of as my oldest friend and i'm therapized enough to know like that's not.
It was not my, it was not a conscious thing that was driving me.
But Once I did get all the achievement and I was lonelier and sadder than ever, it sort of forced me to acknowledge that I had had that flawed thinking all along.
And before the pandemic, probably around the time I was coming to New York, probably around the time I saw you, one of my friends Greta, had moved back to New York from California and And she had just started having these weekly dinners.
And she fell in love and found a new partner who's a really thoughtful person, one of the smartest, most thoughtful people I know.
And he, in so many ways, also has all these trappings of success.
And also is just one of the most sort of like spiritual, careful people I know.
And so there was a way – whenever I meet someone who just like has somehow done things differently and is like doing something so interesting and I'm always so curious like how they became them.
I'm sure this is like the entire premise of your whole show, right?
Yeah.
Basically, yeah.
It's 14 years I've been wondering the same thing.
You're like, what happened in your life?
Was it your parents?
Is there something in you?
How did this happen?
And so I just started having so many conversations with these two friends.
And a big question I found themselves, them asking themselves was like, what is a good life?
Like, what's the life that we want to build?
And some of that was sort of being coming manifest through these weekly dinners but also, I think, just in other ways, of the choices that they were making.
And it's interesting, you know, To see people who from the outside appear like they have it all to still be like really grappling with this.
And to me, that was like a really just hopeful thing.
And so I got into these sort of conversations and that became this question that I just started asking myself.
It's like, what is a good life?
Because I had not had financial stability.
I had not had support systems.
I had not had...
I don't know, recognition for my work.
And then I kind of got recognition and I got financial stability.
And I always, when I didn't have it, I thought if I had that, I would feel okay.
And then I had that and it didn't solve the problem.
And so I was like, okay, well, clearly there's some flaw in my thinking.
So I need to figure out what I can orient myself How do I answer this question?
And so that really became this thing.
I just would sort of like ask myself in all these different ways
And in some ways has become the barometer by which I can make other decisions of like.
Do I want to do this thing?
Will that take me closer or further away from a good life, you know?
But like yeah, just trying to sit with, like what is a good life?
Really became the sort of driver of my life in that time.
Yeah.
It's one of those questions that I think a lot of us ask in passing.
Obviously, for me, it's become a bit of an obsession for a long time.
And I'm always like you.
I'm always kind of like if I see somebody and there's just a twink and you're like they've figured something out.
Mm-hmm.
I don't care if you're famous.
I don't care if nobody knows you at all.
It's just like oftentimes it's the quietest, most unknown people that I bump into.
And you're like, oh, there's something that they know that I want to know that they figured out.
And it's amazing to sort of just be in the question.
There isn't one universal answer.
No, no.
But there are a lot of universal themes that people get back to.
For you, it seems like being with friends, being in community, has always been something just critically important for you.
Which I'm curious now also about, because when you're at that moment a couple years earlier where you're like everything's spinning around, I need to be able to actually touch stone again and make really good decisions.
It sounds like your choice was solitude rather than community.
You're like something and you said I need solitude now, not people, in order to find the clarity that I need, which seems like it was different than it was in the past.
Yes.
I also think, like that was one step in a larger sort of acknowledgement to myself, that I think I had confused being around people with being in community or being close to people.
And so yeah, big difference.
Yeah.
Like I had, And it's so complicated, right?
Like, there's not a clear – there's not one thing.
But I've always been a very sort of social person.
And, I mean, I also have a huge part of me that needs to be alone.
But –
Yeah.
I don't want to just be a hermit all the time.
And I historically have been incredibly extroverted and I think wanting to be part of something.
I've always felt outside and trying to find my way inside and be part of something.
And whether that word could be a family or a community or a group or whatever.
I just always have been like, how do I get inside the thing I feel outside of.
I want to be in with.
And I have tried and failed many, many, many times for many reasons.
But I think, when I started cooking, there was a way where I desperate part of me that just wanted to like be invited to the party or be part of the group or the celebration recognized.
Now i have a tool i because like, i don't have to wait to be invited to the party because now i'm the cook and i can throw the party.
And if i throw the party, by definition i'm invited.
And so there was a way where like, i confused for very long time the like being at the party with being like, genuinely like, rooted in relationship with people.
Do you know what I mean?
Like, yeah.
And it was not like ill spirited or out of manipulation.
It was like a desperate, like desperate baby part of me trying to belong, you know, like it was just a way, it was like a survival tool.
But I didn't understand that like just because I got to go to the thing that everyone else was going to or whatever, that was not like solving that sense of loneliness.
That wasn't solving this thing that was plaguing me.
And so in some ways then, when the show came out and I got all the invitations and all the attention, it was so much That I sort of short-circuited.
And I did have a sense that I needed to go, be very quiet and very alone, just to try to reorient myself and reground myself.
I just needed some quiet time to quiet my nervous system because it was just too much coming at me.
No, that all makes sense.
I mean what you're describing.
I think so many of us have felt that.
You know it's like the difference between being invited and being beloved, being celebrated, being like actually connected.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Like people genuinely wanting you there, not just because there's a purpose, but actually like they just like your presence.
They want to be around you and you want to be around them.
It's a very different thing.
Like I think a lot of us are like, oh, I wish I was invited to this.
Why am I not getting like all the invites?
And it's like, it's not about being in the room.
It could actually feel so lonely.
Yeah.
So lonely.
Yeah, I feel like deeply connected to even three people.
And there's such a huge difference.
You know, this is a thing that also it weaves in so many different ways through the new book, through good things.
You know this sense of being connected to people through food, through hospitality, through hosting, through sharing time together and even the weekly dinners that you've referenced, you know.
And I feel like a lot of people don't know how to do that, how to step into the role of gathering people.
They're all, like you were describing, they're kind of waiting for the invitations.
And in no small way I feel like this new work is kind of an, it's a permission slip to people to say you don't have to wait like here's a little bit of a field guide for you to be able to actually feel comfortable gathering people on your own, like you get to choose.
Invite your deep, deep friends, your chosen family, to just come play, come talk, come eat food together, come make food together, and if you don't know how which i think a lot of people don't, so they resist doing that you're kind of like i've got something for you.
Was that part of the intention?
Yeah.
I mean, this book came together in such a funny way.
Like I said, I had a totally different idea and went through a few different sort of versions before it became this.
And it only became this in the making because I was in the real time, sort of finding myself again and coming back to myself.
And a big part of that was just having these – really casual dinners with my friends who at the time were not like my closest friends by any means.
But I think the like continued proximity has sort of like enabled an intimacy.
And of course, we had a relationship.
They were not strangers, but it just wasn't necessarily who I would have thought that I would make something like this with.
And that's also been kind of beautiful.
That like that perfectionist part of me drove me for so long to be like try and plan and orchestrate the best possible version of a weekly dinner and who would be in it, and all of that kind of stuff.
And then I would sort of collapse under the pressure of it or just knowing like I could never make that a reality for a variety of reasons.
And then this one sort of appeared and we just stuck with it.
And it has really... shifted something in all of our lives and at first i thought it was just me but you know i think we can agree we all sort of joke we agree it's it's our version of church you know like it's our holy place and that feels special and i wanted to offer that in the way that like i i read a lot and thought a When I was – or just the idea of The Gift, you know, I read The Gift also while I was writing this book.
And part of that was because I – By the way, if nobody's read Lewis Hyde's book The Gift, you've got to read it.
It's so beautiful, yeah.
It's so beautiful.
And the other book that was like really thoughtful about the idea of The Gift was The Braiding Sweetgrass and sort of native concepts.
Amazing, yeah.
Of The Gift.
And so I thought about that a lot, because I sort of notoriously have – complicated relationship with recipes.
And I was trying so hard to figure out how to justify like my relationship to them.
But then the fact that I made a book of recipes after telling you like, here's a way to cook without recipes for the rest of your life.
Just for context, following along salt fat acid, heat was basically the fundamental message.
Was the only recipe understand these four different qualities of flavor.
And once you understand that, you can make anything.
Yeah.
And so then I felt like a real hypocrite when I was like, I guess I will write a recipe book.
And so I just turned the word recipe over and over and over in my head.
And was trying to figure out, like how do I sort of come to peace with this myself, let alone like justify this for other people?
And at some point I looked up the etymology of the word and you know, a recipe before it related to food, was a word that doctors.
Basically it was like the prescription and so and it's the infinitive or the imperative form of the word like to give or like yeah, and so, like it's like, so what it read cheap at the top.
A pharmacist would write or a doctor would write.
It would mean like here, take this.
And so I sort of kept thinking about that.
I was like, oh, that's kind of the sentiment that I wrote Salt, Fat, Acid, Eat.
It was like, here, take this.
And in a weird way, I was like, oh, that's how I can think of a recipe.
It's like, here, take this.
It's like, I'm giving this to you.
And when I give you something, it's no longer mine anymore.
It's yours to do with as you wish.
And so there was an idea like that idea of I was trying to make something that I knew would not be mine once I made it and that would be a gift.
And that felt like a really important thing to give to people was just a glimpse at this part of my life that has been really profoundly important and moving and maybe could be for you too.
And I do know that it can feel really overwhelming and intimidating to try to set up something like this and commit to something like this.
I have tried to and failed many times over the last 20 years.
And so there were ways that we did it that I wouldn't have necessarily done if I were planning it or setting out with my own spreadsheet that have actually ended up being really helpful.
And so those were things that I wanted to offer to people.
But what's interesting too is you spend all this time making a book and you're really in your own head, right.
Only a very few people sort of see it And you talk to them about it.
And then it comes out in the world and you get to have a whole new relationship to it, because now people are bringing you questions and feedback and interpreting and receiving in ways you didn't know were possible.
And so there are just things like I've gotten so many questions about how to do that.
I've gotten so many people's stories about their weekly things that they have been doing or have started doing.
And that's really wonderful.
But I also just, I realized like, it could be so simple.
You know, there was this great photographer in New Orleans who was like a huge sort of community hub person.
He was the kind of person like everybody knew.
You know his name was Pablo Johnson, I think, and he passed away a few years ago, but he, I met him once and that was enough to garner an invitation to his sunday.
Like red beans and rice.
There was just like everyone in new orleans knew, like you go to pablo's house for red beans and rice on sundays, and so i'm like that's not fancy, it's just that it's consistent and that there's enough for everyone right, like that's all it needs to be, is like the consistency and and the invitation, and i i, I love that part of it, you know, because I think we do get in our heads so much.
We're like, if I'm going to have friends over, I'm going to have people over for dinner or brunch or whatever.
We've got to have the perfect spread.
We've got like perfectionism sneaks into every part of our lives.
And I mean, food media amplifies that.
Like we just like the world amplifies that.
And I know I'm like, I can't help but be part of that.
Two, even though I'm trying so hard to not be like you make a cookbook, you put pictures of the food.
People want their food to look like the picture.
But also it's like, how else am I going to communicate stuff I don't know?
And we'll be right back after a word from our sponsors.
But what I think also you do a beautiful job of throughout Good Things is this notion of saying.
I'm also going to try and keep this as simple and accessible as possible.
You probably have a whole bunch of stuff in your pantry already.
You don't have to go to the bougiest shop in town and get the most exotic ingredients.
You can if you want to.
If it's just fun for you, awesome.
Have at it.
But we all have a lot of stuff.
And it's really sort of like the idea of there's...
Like the food is, it's like it's the canvas, you know but, and you want a nice canvas and you want to paint a little something nice on it.
But you know it's like you want to bring everyone together and make the picture, to make the image, to make like
And that's the people, it's the conversation, it's the love that unfolds around it.
And no art is perfect.
The most moving pieces of art you've ever seen are not the ones with the straightest lines and the most realistic things.
It's the one that makes you feel.
And I feel like that's a lot of the focus.
What I'm seeing is like you don't have to go overboard here, don't worry about being perfect.
Just do something that feels yummy, brings people together and like, and let let that be where the magic really unfolds around this.
There's something you're saying that it's like clicking something.
For me yeah, which is the thing that, like the, the art makes you feel, and that, because i often like think about at a meal, like the meals that have been the most sort of memorable to me.
I don't – I generally don't remember what I ate.
It's like what happened and, you know, how I felt at the table.
And I often – I have a really interesting sort of memory.
Like I can remember certain things super clearly and specifically, especially from, like books that I've read or movies or anything that I have felt like really moved by.
But often –
I completely forget entire plots and characters.
And I just remember that something, I loved something so much because it made me feel something.
Yes.
It's like something magical happened.
And so there's a way where, like I often yeah, it's like I, you know I could be like oh my God, this book, it was so good.
I have no idea what happened.
I just remember like i loved northwoods, you know, like like i, i hold on to that feeling and i feel like that's essentially what i'm trying to say about the table too is like, just make space for that feeling, because that feeling is way more important than whether or not you have like the perfect mozzarella, you know, or whatever.
Yeah Yeah, I mean, that makes so much sense to me.
And I think it resonates with so many people.
It just makes it so much more easy for someone to say, I can do this.
And you do get very specific guidance and directions.
You talk about condiments and dressings and all the different things.
But one of the other things for somebody who's looking for actually specific guidance, it's in there.
But there's also – there's a really juicy philosophical subtext to the whole thing, which kind of says just exhale man.
And I'm telling that as much – Just like if it's not having – right.
It's like if you're not having fun along the way, something's wrong.
And I'm like – as much I'm saying that to myself as I am to you.
Like it's a reminder to my own self.
Like I don't – everything doesn't have to be the most.
And so much of it was just a – coming back to like.
Basically I had to have like a little mantra of like whatever you are is enough.
Whatever is showing up is enough, which is not historically has been true for me.
But I had to, in some ways, believe that for myself to be able to make the book.
And that's also what I'm trying to model for you and communicate to you that that's enough too.
And I don't know, you could have a totally good dinner of just grilled cheese sandwiches.
I
I was literally just thinking about that.
I'm sure you've seen the movie Chef.
And there's that scene where he's just making a grilled cheese sandwich.
Yeah.
And I'm like, my mouth is, and I'm like, this is stunningly gourd.
It is the simplest thing.
And you get that anything can have like beauty and just love just oozing from it.
It doesn't, complexity, it's not about how fancy or complex it is.
You know, the most basic stuff.
I think it's, years ago I was talking to somebody about making instruments, a luthier.
Cool.
And they were like, yeah, you can feel the maker's heart.
I was like, what makes a great instrument?
And they're like, you can feel the maker's heart through the instrument.
That's so beautiful.
And I feel like it's the same thing with food.
You can feel that.
And that's so much more important than how complex or, yes, a beautifully plated dish is awesome.
It's like a work of art to look at.
And so is a grilled cheese that was made with love.
Totally.
Totally.
One other thing I wanted to touch base on, you also, you explore the notion of time in the book.
And we live in this culture where everything has to happen so quickly.
And it's instant, instant, instant.
And it's like, there's a certain grace that happens when you actually just let time unfold.
And even like...
Bread has to rise.
There's certain ingredients that you work with.
There's no way to rush certain things, and it forces us to stop and slow down.
I'm generally the cook in our house and when we have friends over for dinner I kind of like it when we're not ready to serve them when they get there.
I kind of like it when we're all going to hang out in the kitchen for an hour or something and it's just going to take some time.
And that's part of the experience.
Talk to me a little bit more just about this notion of cooking as a metaphor for building time into our lives.
Well, like I said, when I was so depressed I was really sort of reexamining so much about what I'm doing, what my own relationship to cooking and eating is like I was like, do I even really need to write another book?
Like I already told you everything I know in the one book, you know it.
There was just a sort of like I had.
I there wasn't a sense of meaning or I couldn't identify the why for myself, the yeah, why am I doing this and what is the meaning here?
And sort of separately, as I was turning over this question of what is a good life and beginning to have these weekly dinners, my friend gave me this book, The Sabbath, which is like a small little book by a rabbi philosopher named Abraham Joshua Heschel.
And it really sort of I mean, my friend gave it to me to sort of help me think about the role of these weekly dinners in my life and the meaning of them.
And in that book Abraham Joshua Heschel writes about Judaism being a religion not of like space and material things, but of time.
And that the Sabbath is sort of one of these like foundational practices inside of the religion, because you're carving out, he calls it a palace in time, i think, or cathedral in time, and that i just kept thinking about that like the meaning of time in our lives, and like and then simon, and then sort of shortly after i'm sitting there with thinking about all this, then my dad dies in this really sort of prolonged and really melodramatic and complicated and chaotic way that causes so much suffering and pain, not only for everyone around him but also for himself, which was just.
My dad was a complicated and quite dangerous person honestly um, but I don't feel like anyone deserves like undue suffering.
And I did spend those last several months at his bedside, partly because he was incapacitated and hence like couldn't hurt me in the way that he had, but also it was an opportunity to try to like talk through some things and get some closure.
And witnessing this person die in this really like chaotic, painful suffering filled, like ultimately very lonely way was really instructive for me, because i just kept thinking like how sad, how sad like this is what he sowed, you know, like he sowed the seeds for this and it's coming back back for him now and like this is the saddest thing i can think of, like the most pathetic and i say that like path, like pathetic way to end a life, and it really made me think about like what do i want to think about and reflect back on and look back on when i'm in that position, when i'm dying?
I want to be able to look back and be like I made a life full of creativity and friendship and love and nature and puppies and friends and good food.
And that's what I want.
But if I want that, I have to start doing that now.
I have to make sure every choice I make now is going into that because I –
I think yeah, it's very cliche to watch someone die and then realize your own mortality, but that's really what happened.
And I just was like oh, I've had this sense my whole life that if I work hard enough and am capital G good enough and do good enough or do enough good that that will like earn me some points in some invisible I don't know metric, by some invisible force.
And at some point then I will be rewarded with like security and happiness, and Because I did enough, I did it enough.
But then now I was like, all of a sudden being like, wait a minute, there's no guarantee.
Like, where's like, what's this invisible force?
Like, what's the number I'm trying to reach?
You know, like, why?
I'm basically like depositing into some bank account.
That's like a bottomless pit and I will never be able.
Like I just was, like I have to start withdrawing now.
I have to start like, having taking advantage of, like every day and what I have, and and I really in some ways have majorly shifted certain things and now I like do say yes and I do go on the trip and I do take the opportunity in a way that, like historically, I've just self-flagellated and put my head down and worked um, and so that was such a sort of huge shift for me in the like the, on a cellular level, and And it became the driving thing of my life was this idea of time as my most valuable and precious currency.
And so if it's my most precious thing, then sharing it with someone is actually the most beautiful thing I can do.
And for me in my life and for many people, I think, a very simple way on a daily basis that I can share that time or express my love through an investment of time is by cooking for you or by eating with you, and so um, that sort of became the way I understood the value of cooking for me and I have come to understand it in my own life is like it's not about me, like innovating and creating and being like whatever it's about, like this, you know when I and maybe it's so sappy, but like I try to cook for people, like whatever it is that they would like most on their birthdays.
And so that's often an opportunity for me to really spend like a day or longer, like Thinking about you while I'm making this thing for you, and I'm like truly thinking about you and pouring like this good energy and this love into this food.
And can you taste it?
I don't know.
Yes, probably.
But it's more that like it's I'm actually just giving you a piece of myself.
Yeah.
But you're also saying, in doing that, you're saying to that friend, I know you.
I've been paying attention.
I see you.
And so it's like whatever you cook for them, sure, it's yummy.
It's going to have your love in it.
And it'll be a savory experience in the moment.
It's something special.
But underneath all that, the subtext is, I see you, I know you, I acknowledge you.
That is so rare in today's world.
I feel like we are just so desperate to be seen beyond the facade.
And that's the thing we all want the most.
Yeah, totally.
Yeah.
It feels like a good place for us to come full circle as well.
You've kind of answered my last question, but i'm gonna ask it more fully again.
Um so, in this container of good life project, if i offer up the phrase to live a good life, what comes up?
Like taking care of the people around me, allowing them to take care of me, taking care of the environment, you know, like doing my best to like feel totally present on any given day, in any given moment and like appreciate what's there, like taking in art, making art, hugging my puppy.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Being, trying to just like feel the fullness of my humanity.
Thank you.
Thank you.
You can find a link to that episode in the show notes.
This episode of Good Life Project was produced by executive producers Lindsay Fox and me, Jonathan Fields.
Editing help by Alejandro Ramirez and Troy Young.
Christopher Carter crafted our theme music.
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