Are you kind of a control freak in that way?
Oh, I'm a total control freak.
Absolutely.
With your food and eating?
Like, what's an example of that?
Well, I mean, I like things, you know, a certain way.
I like a certain amount of butter to go on a potato or whatever at a certain time in a certain way.
Yeah, I like things my way.
I don't like too much of something or not enough of something.
What's the exactly right time to put the butter on the potato?
Well, you don't want to do it right away when it's super, super hot.
I don't.
Why not?
Well, because then it just sort of liquefies and separates.
I want to slow melt and still be able to see soft butter on there.
Is that just me?
Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.
Is it just me?
You don't want to just infuse the potato with butter flavoring.
No.
You really want butter on top.
Yeah, and I want potato-flavored butter sometimes.
Exactly.
You want potato-flavored butter, not just butter-flavored potato.
Thank you.
Call me old-fashioned.
We'll be right back. and try to see if we can make any couples.
Well, guess what?
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Alright, let's get into it.
Tony Shalhoub is an actor whose roles skew toward the quirky and neurotic, and often his character's quirks come out through the way they relate to food.
He played an immigrant chef in the movie Big Night, which remains beloved by food people nearly 30 years after its release.
He was a cab driver on the 90s sitcom Wings.
Then he really became a star playing Adrian Monk on the long-running TV series Monk.
Tony won three Emmys over the years for that role.
He won a fourth, more recently playing Abe Weissman, the title character's father on The Marvelous Mrs Maisel.
Now Tony's hosting a new CNN series called Breaking Bread, where he travels the world to meet bread bakers, eat all kinds of bread and connect with people and cultures.
He eats deep fried acarajé in Brazil, black-eyed pea panisse in France and volcano-baked bread in Iceland.
In one episode, Tony goes to Wisconsin, which is where he grew up in a Lebanese-American family in the 1950s and 60s.
He's the ninth of ten children, and a lot of his siblings still live in Wisconsin.
As he told me, there's one bread from his own childhood that looms large, something they called dirty bread.
Well, dirty bread is flatbread with za'ata on it, which we ate as a kid.
But you know, when we were younger, that wasn't something you were like, you know, scrambling to grab and eat.
It was more of an acquired taste, you know?
We saw the adults eating it all the time.
But it was like at a certain age when it, well, try a bite.
It's okay.
Then all of a sudden, I can't explain this, one day—
Took a bite of za'atar, and it just, like, the penny dropped.
And it was like, oh, my God, that is really special.
And then from that point on, you just couldn't get enough of it.
The actual word for it is manikish?
Well, we didn't call it that.
We called it dirty bread.
Why, though?
Because it looked like you were sprinkling, like, gravel or dirt.
Oh, because the za'atar looked— Dirt.
Right, right.
It was dark, and there was oil in it, just kind of getting sort of, like, muddy.
Muddy and greenish and brown and blackish.
Tony's mom grew up in the U.S.
Her parents came from Lebanon.
Tony's dad came to the U.S. from Lebanon as a kid.
He was a meat peddler who drove around the state delivering all kinds of meat.
He had a refrigerated truck, and we lived out of that truck.
We really did.
I mean, you know, if ever we were short on something, somebody would just run out to the garage, pop open the back of that truck, pull out of a box of whether it was summer sausage or brats or ring bologna.
We're not sure what was in there, but it was delicious.
That truck was kind of our salvation, really.
I would imagine, I mean, your dad sort of built up this business through hustle.
He must have been a good salesman.
I think he was.
I think he was.
Well, he was a very handsome guy, very charismatic.
He really knew how to sell.
Yeah.
But he also was gregarious.
You know, he just he liked people.
He could schmooze really well.
People were drawn to him.
Eventually, Tony left Wisconsin and went to Yale Drama School.
Then he moved to Cambridge, Mass, where he spent four years with the American Repertory Theater.
It was a dream job for a young actor.
It was good, steady work.
He started off in smaller roles at first, but every year, the roles got bigger.
And so by my fourth year there, I was doing leading roles and really feeling like I had landed.
But there was also a feeling of like oh my God, now I want to get back to that feeling of striving and not getting too comfortable, not getting cocky, really.
I felt like, I don't know, this has been a recurring kind of motif in my life.
Whenever I felt like I was doing okay, I felt like I needed to move on.
So in 1984, that's what Tony did.
He left Cambridge to go to New York to try to take his acting career to the next level.
You know, you're scrapping, you're a new kid in town sort of feeling, and...
And then after four or five years okay, now I'm starting to feel like I'm not terrified to walk into an audition.
I'm not sweating when I go into a casting, to meet a casting director.
And after six years in New York, I had that same psychotic feeling again of wow, this is almost feeling like the road is too smooth.
And so I went to LA.
What do you think is underlying that sort of like that desire to find the bumps in the road and to feel like you're striving, to use your word?
I think it has to do with certain part of it is just masochism, I guess.
Probably like a personality type.
I guess.
And maybe it has something to do with being the second youngest of 10 kids.
There was always sort of a striving to be noticed, to be heard, to be taken seriously.
I haven't really tried to analyze it too much.
It's just something that's hardwired in me, I guess.
A few years after arriving in L.A., Tony landed a part playing Primo in the 1996 film Big Night.
Now Big Night has a place in the food world as a legendary movie for its careful depictions of the cooking and for the questions it raises about what it takes to run a restaurant.
The movie includes an iconic scene featuring a dish called a timpano, which we'll talk about.
I know that scene so well that I put a timpano in my pasta cookbook and referenced Big Night in the headnote.
Stanley Tucci wrote and directed Big Night, and he starred opposite Tony.
They play Italian immigrant brothers who own a restaurant on the Jersey Shore.
For the role, Tony needed some help to be able to look like a real chef on camera.
Stanley connected me up with this chef.
He actually was a chef at a restaurant that I loved in L.A. called Chianti Cucina.
Fabio, his name was.
He and I would go into this test kitchen facility or something, and he just taught me how to chop food, how to flip food.
You mean like in a pan, like in a saute pan?
Yeah, in a saute pan.
The way that a chef will like toss something in a pan without using a spatula, just by, like a flick of the wrist.
Right and the food kind of goes up eight, nine inches in the air and all lands back in the pan, not on the stove or on the floor or in your face.
Yeah.
And you know, there's a certain thing of like just sort of rolling food in a skillet but also flipping it where it's really getting airborne.
Right.
That's a little harder.
I believe what we did was he put me over a sink with a skillet full of ice.
So you could flip it and if it fell out, it wouldn't.
Yeah, I worked this, worked this for a long time, until my forearm was on fire.
But it was really good.
It was good training because I was able to, after...
Number of hours, number of days to keep all that ice in the pan.
And then we went, we graduated to the stove.
It's interesting because all those skills that he taught me, I still use them today.
I mean, before that time, I wasn't that... comfortable in the kitchen.
I was a passable cook, but I always felt it was a little too daunting to get into too seriously.
And then after that, you went home and you were flipping things in the saute pan.
Oh, man, I'm getting things all over the floor.
The basic plot of Big Night is that the restaurant these brothers own is struggling.
Their grand plan to keep it afloat is to impress a famous singer who's supposed to come eat at the restaurant.
So Primo prepares an elaborate, show-stopping meal.
The crown jewel of that meal is the timpano.
It's basically a gigantic pie filled with pasta meatballs cheese, hard-boiled eggs and tomato sauce.
When it's all assembled, it's basically the size of a basketball with a flat bottom.
Tony had to do special preparation for that timpano scene.
Stanley had invited me to his parents' house, and we made it with his mother, who's an expert at this dish.
And it was so labor-intensive, incredible.
I mean watching her put together—because this is something they do as a—it's a special occasion dish.
Right.
This is not like a Tuesday night, weekday meal.
No.
Right.
This is a once a year, I think, he said.
Because—and also, you know, it's heart attack food, let's face it.
Right.
We worked with her and watched her do it, and it was just so eye-opening and beautiful the way she did it.
When we brought it out in the movie.
You know, we had a kind of memory, a sense memory of what went into it.
The movie's action centers around this gambit to keep the restaurant open.
But the real conflict of the film is between the art of a restaurant and the business of it.
Tony's character, Primo, the chef, he represents the art.
He's frustrated by American customers who don't understand real Italian food.
He loses it when one of them requests a side of spaghetti with their risotto.
Combining two starches like this would never be done in Italy.
I want to know for who.
Just make me a salad or spaghetti, please.
I want to know for who is it for.
For the lady with the risotto.
What?
Who are these people in America?
How can she want?
They both are starch.
Maybe I should make mashed potato for on the other side.
She's a criminal.
I want to talk to her.
You know, he's a purist.
He comes from the old world and all of those traditions and he aspires to be as good as the people who taught him.
I carried that idea.
I heard you say that your character, Primo, was a lot like your father.
I think so, yeah.
I do.
In the sense that Primo is sort of uncompromising and old world, because my father, you know, I think, even though he came over when he was a boy, he still carried with him that sense of the old world.
Yeah, I feel like I drew from him for this character, although I have to say I've drawn from him for other things too, and other members of my family, certainly my siblings
I feel like there's a piece of them, a piece of one of them in everything I've ever done.
Primo's brother Secondo, played by Stanley Tucci, is the more suave guy who deals with the customers.
He represents the business side of things.
He says Primo should make the customers happy.
Give them what they want.
The brothers are trying to run a business here and it's not going great.
They got to make some compromises if they want to stay open, he says.
But Chef Primo doesn't want to compromise.
He says at one point, if I sacrifice my work, it dies.
It's better that I die.
But that mentality could spell the end of the restaurant.
So the question is, at what point does sticking to your guns become self-sabotage?
Well, that's the question that the movie raises and doesn't actually fully answer.
The reason Stanley wanted to do this movie, one of the many reasons why he wanted to write this film.
You know, as young actors, we were struggling with that very question all the time.
We wanted to do good work, but we didn't want to be starving artists our whole lives.
And we got offered things that were lucrative, but maybe we didn't.
Our hearts weren't fully in, and we were constantly struggling with that.
I mean, we still struggle with that.
Even today, that question comes up for me in almost every project.
But back then it was a little more weighted, I believe, because we were young and, And you know, we were clawing our way up and we wanted to make money, of course, but we didn't want to do Schlock.
And every once in a while you just do it because you have to or you don't think it's going to be Schlock or whatever reason.
That's right.
I won't ask you which ones were the Schlock projects.
Please don't.
90% of that.
No, no.
I think that what you're talking about is something that any person who works in the arts is going to struggle with, whether they're a chef in a restaurant or an actor or a writer, or whatever it may be.
That's the dilemma with any creative pursuit.
You know you struggle to find your place, and what is it that you do that people are going to respond to?
And then you, if you're lucky, you land on it But the problem is then that's what people want.
Right.
And that's not exactly what you always want to do.
You want to move off of that and you want to expand and test your versatility.
It's like a chef who's not allowed to change their menu.
Exactly.
Or a painter who you know paints a sunset, and they go like oh, just do that sunset 50 different ways.
Right, for 20 more years.
Yeah.
You don't want to get into that rut.
So much of the kind of talk about.
Big Night focuses on the big final meal and the timpano and the other dishes that Primo is making and that's all very memorable, but I love the final scene of that movie.
Spoiler alert the previous night's dinner that the whole movie's been building up to didn't go the way they hoped it would go.
They just had this big fight and now it's the next morning and Stanley Tucci, his character, makes a frittata like plain eggs in the pan.
It's all shot, one shot, real time, Your character walks in in this quiet morning.
And Cristiano, the busboy.
Right, he's there too.
He's actually played by a young Mark Anthony.
And there's this tense moment of like.
How are these two brothers going to relate to each other after having sort of like broken up?
There's almost no dialogue in the scene.
There's no dialogue.
Yeah, it's one camera, no cuts, and no dialogue.
What are your memories of that scene?
Yeah, we had to rehearse it a lot, as you always do with a winner.
But because we're using a live stove, you know, more things to go wrong.
Right.
He can't burn the frittata.
Like, the timing has to be just right.
Yeah, Stanley really had it down.
And, to be honest, the trickiest part was those eggs were coming right off the stove and eating those eggs.
They were freaking hot.
I had that thought.
I rewatched this scene like two days ago, and I was like, man, aren't the eggs still hot?
If you watch it close, you can see Mark Anthony, and he's...
He's, you know, he's kind of opening his mouth and blowing out.
Yeah, yeah.
And on a normal breakfast, you put it out, you wait till it cools.
Right.
But we had to just do it.
Yeah.
And we had to do it six, I think we shot that thing six or seven times.
And by the fifth or sixth take, you know, our tongues are kind of raw at this stage.
But they were good eggs, by the way, I have to say.
Hot or not.
Coming up.
We talk about Tony's legendary character Monk, a detective with OCD who has very particular opinions about how he wants his food.
So how similar is Tony to Monk?
Then later, Tony tells us what he learned from breaking bread with people all over the world.
Stick around.
And now a delicious word from our sponsors.
It's very good.
Welcome back to The Sporkful.
I'm Dan Pashman.
And you know, we used to have like a paid service for people who wanted to listen to old episodes.
You'd have to pay to be a subscriber.
And then we got rid of that.
But then all the old episodes weren't there.
And a lot of you wrote in.
You said, what about the old episodes?
We want to hear those.
We miss them.
We want to go back.
We want to hear it again.
We want to share with a friend.
So we invented reheats.
Every Friday we go into the Sporkville's deep freezer and reheat one of our very favorite episodes from the archive.
Some of the recent reheats include a call-in show in which a couple fights about whether it's okay to wipe greasy hands on your legs after eating popcorn.
Another is a deep dive into why people are so obsessed with hydration these days.
And then the same week, we had our episode with Paul Hollywood.
We reheated the interview with Nadia Hussain, one of Great British Bake Off's most famous winners.
There's so many good episodes and guess what?
We take requests.
So if you have one you want to hear, drop me a line at hello at sporkful.com.
All right, back to Tony Shalhoub.
As I said, Big Night remains a classic of the food movie genre.
And while none of Tony's other roles are as food-centric as that one, it seems a lot of his characters have something to say about food.
In the early 2000s, Tony played the private investigator Adrian Monk on the USA show Monk.
The character has OCD and a lot of phobias, including some to do with what he eats.
I reviewed those with Tony.
He didn't like mushrooms, egg whites, kiwi, milk, mixed nuts, mixed vegetables, salted peanuts.
I mean, the list goes on.
And he didn't like his food touching.
That's most important.
And I'll have the veal.
Okay.
And I wonder, could I get separate plates for the potatoes and the vegetables?
You want them all on separate plates?
Please.
Please.
You don't like your food to touch.
I believe most people don't like their food to touch.
They just don't have the guts to admit it.
Are you that way?
Do you not like your foods touching?
No, I'm not that way.
I mean, I'm in some ways like Monk, but not when it comes to food.
I did read a profile with you in GQ a while back where this reporter went out to lunch with you and you ordered crab cake, eggs benedict hollandaise sauce on the side, and the writer notes that you dissected the dish so you could eat each component separately.
Really?
Yeah.
I don't always trust hollandaise.
It involves things that may or may not have been sitting around for a while.
So I always have it on the side so I can kind of test the waters.
Because once it's on the eggs, you're screwed.
I would sometimes keep things separate, especially like in a dipping situation.
Like when I have a burger, I don't ever put condiments on the burger.
I like it with ketchup and mustard.
I will mix them together on the side and then dip the burger for every bite.
And that allows me to control the ratios of condiments and also how much is in each bite and where exactly, and all that.
I like that, yeah.
I sometimes do that.
Okay.
Where I'll, you know, have a butter knife or something, and I'll spread it on as I like it, yeah.
And the problem with putting it on the burger too, is that some parts don't have enough and some parts have too much.
That's right.
Yeah, no, I like your style.
You and I would have a good meal together.
Well, it also gets into a very fundamental issue of eating that I have been thinking about for—
Some might say far too long, which is the idea of like bite variety versus bite consistency.
Like, when you're eating a certain food, do you want all the bites of it to be consistent, or do you want the bites to be different?
I think you need to get out more.
That is a deeper dive.
All right, all right.
You're not the first person to say that, Tony.
Perhaps a hobby of some kind.
There is a very memorable scene in Monk where he's in this lab and he encounters square tomatoes.
Yes.
Oh, Pam Adlon, fantastic episode.
And Bradley Whitford.
Yeah.
Love that episode.
Yeah, they're scientists and they've developed a square tomato.
Is that a square tomato?
Yes, it is.
So that means...
Every slice is exactly the same size.
You're doing the Lord's work.
And Monk loves that because it goes on the bread perfectly.
If the bread is, you know, he gets square bread.
Yeah, that was clever on the part of the writers.
Well, but the rationale of the scientists in the lab is that square tomatoes can be packed more tightly and therefore you can transport more tomatoes.
Oh, economically it's more efficient.
In theory saves on packaging also.
So it's supposedly environmentally friendly and economically friendly.
I had forgotten that.
But I want you to know, Tony, do you know that this is real now?
They're working on developing square watermelons.
Really?
For the same reason, because they'll pack together more tightly.
So maybe I've started something.
I've always wanted to have a positive impact on the world.
Now we can't possibly cover every one of Tony's iconic characters from his 40-plus year career, but there is one more I wanted to touch on with him.
Abe Weissman, the cantankerous father from Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.
In season two, the family spends some time at a resort in the Catskills in upstate New York.
Tony's character Abe, drinks tomato juice nonstop, which apparently was a thing in the Catskills back in the day.
And he has a few cocktails, but he has a system for trying to make sure he doesn't get too drunk.
This is my Catskills Alcohol Consumption Index.
I drink more up here, but I've devised a system to keep from getting tipsy.
Fine.
No, Abe, you're drunk.
Your calculations were off again.
Give me another pickle.
The brownie and the pickles counteracts the alcohol.
You've had ten pickles, Abe.
Your pickles aren't working.
Well, he's a mathematician, so everything has to do with numbers and percentages.
Right.
Yeah.
To me, it ties into a little bit of what you were talking about earlier, this idea of striving.
There's something about Abe that was always kind of striving to figure out a better way to break things down and to analyze and overanalyze to the point of discovering something.
Right.
And he also did – before they get to the Catskills, while they're still –
Back at the New York apartment he is working out the geometry, or the physics of packing the suitcases into the trailer.
Everything has to fit perfectly.
I just love that.
Everything in his life, every day, every mundane thing in his life has to be analyzed and organized.
And optimized.
Exactly, optimized.
So let's talk about the new show, Breaking Bread.
Aside from the fact that bread in all its forms is delicious, what made you want to center a show around it?
Part of it is, I think.
I've been feeling for a while that we've gotten away from simplicity, the basic things, the things that nurture us physically and emotionally too.
And I've always loved bread.
Who doesn't love bread?
Right.
Bread is a thing that we all can agree on and we all share a love of.
And there's something so elemental about bread, something so fundamentally human, like it's such an old food that's been around about as long as people have been cooking anything.
They've been making bread.
And also, I like free food and free travel.
There, I've said it.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah, but also, like, the whole world feels like it's getting sort of more virtual.
Exactly.
Eating bread in particular feels not only so like essentially human and universal, but also very tactile.
You can only do it with your hands.
Yeah, and I started to think about it as the OG social media.
You know, I think about people sitting at a restaurant, for example, and everyone sitting at a table on their phones in their separate little bubble right.
But if the bread comes, guess what?
Down go the phones.
Everybody has this simultaneous communal experience.
Maybe that's the solution.
We just got to put like baskets of bread on every street corner.
That's not a bad idea.
One of the things about doing this show that might not be apparent to people but that I would imagine could have been challenging is that you're being yourself right.
You're not playing a part, which obviously you've been interviewed a million times being yourself.
But like I don't know that you've ever been yourself on camera for such an extended period of time,
No, it was daunting, I have to say.
I got so much more comfortable over the many decades saying other people's words and having a director that hands me a performance on a silver plate.
This was hard.
And people would say, well, there's nothing to it.
You just, you know, be yourself.
No idea who that is.
No idea what that looks like.
I mean, I'm sure I've been in many, many interviews, but when I'm the interviewer it's sort of a whole different, as you know.
It's a different role.
One of the episodes is in Brazil.
Love Brazil.
Which I am embarrassed to admit that I'm pretty ignorant about.
I was too.
Parts of South America.
But I do know that Brazil well.
First off, they have apparently phenomenal pizza in Sao Paulo and other parts of Brazil.
And you also learn when you go that there's a big Lebanese population in Brazil.
Huge.
Bigger than anywhere else in the world, I think.
Wow.
What was it like to find that community? it was heavenly.
I met so many great, uh, Lebanese people and ate so much amazing.
And I grew up on really good Lebanese food, and I've you know we have great Lebanese food in New York too.
But in other places I've traveled in the Middle East, of course, in Lebanon itself.
But, um, Boy, I don't know.
They're doing stuff there that's beyond.
Is there one dish or meal that stands out in particular?
There's one restaurant there.
Actually, we don't feature it.
Even though we feature the chef and the owner, a guy named Freddy, who was so great.
But we don't feature it in the episode.
But it's called the restaurant's called Make Hummus, Not War.
And this guy, it's a small place, tiny place.
I've been eating homemade hummus my whole life.
I grew up on this stuff.
Now, this is next level.
He's doing so many variations of it, and it was really good.
I don't want to give away another thing that I ate there, a variation on something I've also been eating my whole life.
It's called fatouche, a salad.
Yes.
That has bread in it.
It's like the crispy pita chips, usually.
Yeah, yeah.
This guy, oh, my God.
You just have to watch the episode.
Okay, we got to watch the episode.
The Brazil episode.
That's a tease.
It's so good, so brilliant.
One other episode from the show I want to talk about is Tokyo.
There's a real theme in that episode about all these craftspeople in Japan who are kind of pursuing –.
Perfection, in a way, like refining their crafts.
It's called Kaizen.
Yeah, Kaizen.
In one episode, Tony meets chef Seizo Mitani, who owns a famous tonkatsu restaurant.
The chef spent years seeking out the perfect panko breadcrumb combination for coating the meat.
He finally landed on a specific Japanese milk bread that was light crunchy and sweet, to then turn into panko.
It's now a staple at his restaurant.
What did you take from that episode?
This pursuit of elevating things and pursuit of perfection, it's in everything.
Everything they do.
Architecture, art, food, of course.
They take things that maybe you know they're original, maybe they're from other places in the world, and they enhance them in some way.
It's just beautiful to see.
And it seems like that episode in particular ties to a lot of the themes we've been discussing, this idea of kind of a pursuit of perfection or at least a type of striving, whether it's in your career, or whether it's Primo and his integrity, whether it's Monk and his wanting things a specific way, whether it's Abe Weissman and trying to figure out how to pack the back of the car.
It's a recurring theme.
Right, right.
It's a recurring theme in your life and in many of the characters and in that episode.
That carries with it a certain level of psychosis really because, especially when I've talked to bakers, they're always in pursuit of, like the perfect loaf of bread.
This idea that you know they want this loaf, this thing they're doing today, to be the perfect loaf.
This is what they're after, knowing that they're not going to get it.
And even if they do happen to one day accidentally hit it, they're probably most likely not going to be able to recreate it.
It's always alive.
It's always in flux.
And it's never going to come out the same.
And yet they are hell-bent on aiming for that bullseye every time.
Knowing that even if it's not perfect...
People are going to probably love it, cut into it or break it open, and they're going to experience that one individual loaf that has a uniqueness and a character all its own.
And there's beauty in that, too.
That's Tony Shalhoub.
His new show is Breaking Bread.
It airs Sunday nights at 9 pm on CNN, or you can stream it the next day with CNN's all-access subscription.
Also, one quick correction.
I said in the interview that square watermelons were in development, but they actually exist.
They've been sold in Japan and Canada.
They're grown inside a frame or box to make them square.
Only problem is that, according to one Canadian news outlet that did a story back in 2014, they don't taste very good.
But they look cool.
Next week on the show, you know, New York pizza, you know, Chicago deep dish.
You might even know New Haven pizza or tavern style pizza.
But not so many people have heard of Colorado style pizza.
Where did it come from?
And is it even a legitimate regional style of pizza?
One intrepid reporter has been on a years long quest to find out.
He shares that story next week.
Why wait for that one?
Check out last week's episode with legendary baker and cookbook author Dori Greenspan.
I go to her home in Connecticut to see how she develops a recipe.
So many people in the world of food say Dori writes the best recipes.
What's her secret?
I ask her and I get a peek inside her butter fridge.
That one's up now.
Check it out.
And hey, did you know you can listen to The Sporkful on the SiriusXM app?
Yes, the SiriusXM app has all your favorite podcasts, plus over 200 ad-free music channels curated by genre and era, plus live sports coverage.
Does your podcasting app have that?
And there's interviews with A-list stars and so much more.
It's everything you want in a podcast app and music app all rolled into one.
Right now, Sporkful listeners can get three months free of the SiriusXM app by going to SiriusXMcom slash Sporkful.
This episode was produced by me, along with managing producer Emma Morgenstern and senior producer Andres O'Hara.
It was edited by Camille Stanley.
Our engineer is Jared O'Connell.
Our interns are Morgan Johnson and Jasmine Sutherland.
Music help from Black Label Music.
The Sporkful is a production of Sirius XM Podcast.
Our executive producer is Camille Stanley.
Until next time, I'm Dan Pashman.
I'm Willa from Appleton, Wisconsin, reminding you to eat more, eat better, and eat more better.
