Good Life Project - Samin Nosrat: Salt. Fat. Acid. Heat. Life!

Episode Date: January 8, 2019

Samin Nosrat is writer, teacher, and chef (http://ciaosamin.com/).Her New York Times bestselling book, Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat (https://amzn.to/2BsSc2x), received the James Beard award for Best General Cookbook and was named Cookbook of the Year by the International Association of Culinary Professionals. Samin's recent Netflix series of the same name (https://www.saltfatacidheat.com/) is a stunning exploration of food, culture, travel and life.Called “the next Julia Child” by NPR’s All Things Considered, Samin has been cooking professionally since 2000, when she first stumbled into the kitchen at Chez Panisse restaurant. An EAT columnist for The New York Times Magazine, Samin lives, cooks, reads, and gardens in Berkeley, California.In today's conversation, we explore her journey, growing up the child of first-generation immigrant parents in southern California and feeling like the outsider. We dive into her lifelong love of writing and books, her experience with anxiety and depression and work to be present and joyful in her life. And, we track her "strange left turn" into the world of food and, now, with the massive success of her book and Netflix series, how she's navigating the pace, exposure and opportunities coming her way.-------Have you discovered your Sparketype yet? Take the Sparketype Assessment™ now. IT’S FREE (https://www.goodlifeproject.com/sparketypes/) and takes about 7-minutes to complete. At a minimum, it’ll open your eyes in a big way. It also just might change your life.Thank you to our super cool brand partners. If you like the show, please support them - they help make the podcast possible. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hey there, my guest today is chef, teacher, author, Samin Nosrat. She has written the mega New York Times bestselling book, Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, and also hosts the Netflix series of the same name, which my daughter and I absolutely devoured. It's stunningly beautiful. Her book received the James Beard Award for Best Cookbook, was named Cookbook of the Year by the International Association of Culinary Professionals. Her Netflix series is really this gorgeous exploration of food and culture and travel and life. She's been cooking professionally since about 2000, and she stumbled upon this career really as a side job. While she was going to Berkeley, she found her way into this legendary kitchen at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, California. Here's the fascinating

thing. As a kid, Samin had pretty much no interest in food. And in today's conversation, we explore her journey, growing up the child of first-generation Iranian immigrant parents in Southern California and feeling like a complete outsider. We dive into her lifelong love of writing and books, her experience with anxiety and depression, and the work that she's done to be really present and joyful in her life now. And we track that strange left turn into the world of food and now with the massive success of her book and Netflix series, how she's navigating the pace, the exposure, and the opportunities that are coming her way. I sat down with Samin when she was in this really interesting in-between window

where she had wrapped production on the first season of the show, and she was soon to vanish into a house in the middle of the desert for a month to really just sort of contemplate her next move. It was kind of a deep, beautiful, and open time to have this conversation. So excited to share this story with you. I'm Jonathan to fly this thing. Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're going to die. Don't shoot him. We need him.

Y'all need a pilot. Flight risk. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch,

getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X, available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required, charge time and actual results will vary. There's a lot of family secrets that i'm not fully privy to so i have sort of done my best to piece things together but i still don't know all of the information still but my dad's family

is a religion called bahai yeah and my mom's family is muslim and bahis were persecuted for many years in Iran. And so I think people who were not Muslim in Iran sensed oppression sort of slowly coming down. So even though they weren't, you know, it's not like they had a premonition that the revolution was going to happen. They knew. They knew something was happening. So everyone in my dad's family sort of split into like spread all over the world. People went to Australia and Europe and all different places. And my grandparents came to San Diego. I don't know exactly why. And then my dad followed and he brought my mom. Yeah. That's amazing. It's interesting your dad's Baha'i. We had Andy Grammar on a little while back who's also Baha'i.

This is the first time I'd ever actually heard of that faith. It's interesting also that that was highly sort of persecuted because it seems like this, a practice which is so embracing and welcoming of all faiths. It's like it draws from everything. Yeah, I think it, from my understanding, is that it's a really open and open-hearted religion. But I think since the main sort of problem, as I understand it, was that one of the main five tenets of Islam is that Muhammad is the final prophet of God. And so like the fact that, you know, 150 years ago,

the prophet of the Baha'i faith sort of stood up and was like, no, no, one more. That was offensive to many Muslims. So it became this really complicated thing. So were you brought up with, I mean, since it's like part of the reason that your folks actually came to the U.S. was driven by faith. Were you brought up in a tradition of faith at all when you got here?

No, neither. I think basically my dad wasn't very religious. My mom wasn't very religious. My mom wasn't very religious. And in order to satisfy their families, they, my dad sort of like, I think he even signed like a notarized document saying that he was agnostic. And so there was definitely, I think, a vague sense of God, but everything in our family was much more about being Iranian than being any one religion. And I've never considered myself religious. Yeah. Tell me more about that also because – so your family lands in the late 70s in San Diego. Was there much of an Iranian community at that point? I was much more aware of the Iranian community in L.A., which is only two hours away. So it's not that, yeah, and for holidays and stuff, we would drive to LA to do grocery shopping because that's where the really

good Persian groceries were. But there were absolutely Persian groceries in San Diego too. And at my high school, there was quite a large Iranian population, but they were kind of a different kind of immigrant kids than I was. So I didn't fully fit in with them. But before high school, it was rare for me to bump into other Iranian kids. What kind of kid were you? A really weird one. any, so many people on the podcast who have answered essentially the exact same thing to a similar question and then like zoom forward 30, 40, 50 years, they're living the most stunning lives and contributing in the most incredible creative ways. I mean, I think a lot about that idea that what seems to have been a constant in my life is that I have always felt like I don't fit in.

And until I started going to therapy about 10 years ago, I really felt like it was my job to show up in a room and figure out, sort of read a room or read a person who I was interacting with, figure out which version of me would make them like me the most or make me be the most, either blend in the most or appreciated the most or like the most and be that version of me, which has made me really good at certain things. I'm a chameleon. You know, some people call it code switching. I'm very likable to many people, but I also, that what I did was I sacrificed like any knowing who I was. Yeah. It's like you're perpetually hiding. Yeah, totally. So I'm trying to do a lot of sort of like work of quieting down on the

inside and trying to figure out what makes, you know, who am I, what do I like to do? Sometimes my therapist will say like, what would bring you joy? You know, or,

or like what's play feel like? And I'm like, I don't know what's joy. you know, can you define joy for me? What are the five bullets there? what's play feel like? And I'm like, I don't know what's joy like, you know? Can you define joy for me? What are the five bullets there? And so, but I think I'm doing a better job of that. And also it's a skill that I've spent a life honing and I'm really good at that thing. I'm really good at making people feel comfortable. And that's not a bad thing. And in fact, that's something that I've turned into part

of my work. And I'm really proud that I can do that. But I just know now not to do it at the cost of my own sanity and like self-awareness. Yeah. Do you ever actually almost like catch yourself going into that as like your default mode and be like, wait a minute, is this actually helpful or is it harmful at this point? I don't know that I'm good enough to catch myself in the moment, but I have at least reached a point where I can recognize which situations make me go into that mode. And so I'm a little, I can sort of prepare myself a little bit to be like, maybe today I'll do that a little bit less. You know, like basically the higher stakes, the situation, the more readily I'll slip into that mode. If it's some meeting somebody I really admire or who, you know, if like yesterday on the

today show, you know, or whatever. And so I'll just catch myself and be like, okay, I don't need to do that. I don't need to like be the version that they, that I think they'll want. I can just be myself. Yeah. So now I'm curious, because if you look at, you know, from the outside looking in, you look at you on screens on this and that, you would appear like you present like a raging extrovert, but I'm sensing that's not entirely true. I've always been ENFP on the Myers-Briggs, like no matter how many times I take it.

And I do think in the beginning, I thought it was like very obviously that I was an extrovert, very ragingly so. And now I think I might be like barely an extrovert. I very much- Just over the edge. Yeah, but I very much need alone time. I need quiet time. And the thing I've learned is

even though I can perform in very social situations really well, it takes a lot of energy. So I have to make sure that I can give myself the time and the opportunity to restore because otherwise then I'm just like running on fumes, you know. I'm wired so similarly. I love being on a stage in front of thousands of people. But as soon as I'm off, like I want to be alone for the rest of the day. And I often actually, even in a big party or something, I often have the best time just talking to one person. Yeah.

Yeah. So what you're describing is very much like the introverted side of the spectrum. It's like, but you have the ability to turn it on and be social. But it's also interesting that you have, like, you've developed really strong social skills almost as a way to sort of protect yourself. For sure. Yeah. Yeah. Which I think a lot of people do.

Yeah. Yeah. It's been such an interesting journey to peel back the layers of myself, you know? Yeah. And, yeah, I'm just so curious about who's under there. So what, what makes you want to go? Cause if this has been a pattern your whole life, what's the trigger that actually makes you say, huh, you know, um, therapy sounds interesting. Why did I start going to therapy? Oh, I'm so glad I did. I was in, so maybe I'm trying to, it might not have been quite 10 years ago, might have been a little bit less, but I have always been pretty anxious.

And it was a time when I had left the kitchen. I'd left sort of my long term steady source of income. And I had made it a commitment to myself that I was going to try to write and switch to making, you know, more money from writing, which is not an easy thing to do. So I had some money saved up and I was ready to sort of commit myself to this. And it was just a lot harder than I thought. And then I got, I was riding my bike and I got doored, you know, when somebody opens the door. Yeah. Over the handlebars? Yeah. I didn't have

to go all the way. I didn't go all the way over the handlebars, but I injured my right knee from that. And then I'd already injured my left knee. So I was, and my left knee required surgery. And so there was just sort of this like mounting pile of things to be, make my life really hard and sad. And also in retrospect, I was depressed. And so my best friend was like, you are like, you have to go to therapy. And I was like, what are you talking about? We go to yoga. I was like, I don't need to go to therapy. And he was like, it's not the same thing. So his boyfriend actually got the phone out and called his therapist and left a message and said – or made me leave a message saying, you know, I need to talk to you. And the therapist called me back and he said, you know, my schedule is pretty packed.

I'm not sure I have room for you, but tell me what's going on and I'll try to find you somebody. So we had a chat for maybe 30 minutes and he was like, you know what? I do think we could be a good fit. And so maybe you should come in. So I went in and it's much over this time. I think also he is learning and evolving what he wants to do in his work. And so there's a lot – often I go in there and I'm like, just tell me what to do. And he won't tell me anything. And he's like, but how does that make you feel in your body? I'm like, dude, we're 10 years into this.

Just once, tell me. Just like give me the answer already. feelings that I felt my whole life and take medicine for it, which has been life-changing. It's been a journey. And I'm so, I don't, I honestly don't know that I could function. I probably would have imploded at some point if I didn't have this practice. Well, I'm glad you did. I'm curious too. I mean, it took years to admit that you were depressed and I get like, it's, it's a really difficult thing from the inside, looking out, especially, do you have a sense or reflecting that any of that was related to sort of cultural perceptions of depression from your background, from your family? I'm sure. Yes, definitely a big part of it. And, you know, for years I didn't admit to my parents that I go to therapy or that I was on antidepressants cause I was afraid of, and my mom sort of sussed it out on herself and she's pretty judgmental about it actually. So she wasn't

excited that I was doing it, but like I, I, by the time she realized that I was taking antidepressants and was in therapy, I knew that they were so good for me that I, you know, I couldn't, I wasn't going to change that for my mom. So that's a big part of it is my, you know, whatever my parents' ideas about it were, but also my own ideas about it, which I'm sure were heavily influenced by not only my parents, but also culture. And so part of my resistance to taking antidepressants was I won't be myself anymore. And this pain is actually what fuels my creativity and makes me a sensitive person. Yeah. You hear that from so many artists. Totally. And I was like, but I won't be able to do the thing and relate to people. And that's

not true at all. And also I had said, I was like, what if it dulls everything? You know, it'll dull the pain, but it'll dull everything else. And that's not what it was at all. You know, oh, I had a big one, which was the reason I feel this way is because I'm not doing it right and I'm not working hard enough. And if I just figure out what to do and do it better and work harder, then this will go away. And what was so remarkable was that, A, I take the very lowest possible dose of this antidepressant. It didn't take very much to make me feel better. And B, it was like overnight, almost, I think within three days, I felt like this ball of just sadness. I had, you know, since I could remember, I'd had this basically rock in the pit of my stomach and that was gone. And I went into therapy within the first week of taking the medicine and I was like, I feel different.

And he said, yeah, you know, like I suspect that you've probably been depressed since you were 18 or 19. And I was like, I've been coming to you for four years. You didn't say anything. But I wouldn't have been able to take it. I wouldn't have been able to hear it. Like I had to get there on my own. And he very much knew that anyone who's, you know, it's not like I feel like everyone should be medicated, but like anyone who's I see has that same idea of, won't be me or I just need to work harder. I try to share that with them because those aren't reasons to not do this thing that's better for that's good for you. And also a lot of people can go on it and then go off of it. Like sometimes it's just a temporary thing.

But yeah, I'm very clear now that it's just like some chemical thing in my body, you know? Yeah. I mean, it's amazing that you, like one of the reasons for you was this idea that it's like wrapped up in, you have to, it's like, you almost have to have a certain amount of suffering to have the raw material to create on a level that like, you know, like is badass. That's really like good and different at the highest level. And there's such a common theme and assumption among any creators across like every creative domain. Like I've heard that so many times, I'm sure you have also.

And it's not, you know, like you've got the prototypical, you know, like somber, you know, like deep, dark, you know, writers, writers especially. But what's interesting, if you look at the research even, you know, one of the things that tends to go along with depression is inaction. Like you can't, so it's like, okay, so you've got all this suffering, like to write about, but you can't pick up a pen or a pencil or like get on the keyboard to actually do anything with it because you're immobilized, you're paralyzed within this state. So it's, yeah. I mean, but again, like when you're

in it, it's not a rational thought process. No, not at all. Yeah. Not at all. And what's interesting is I've recognized I am just a person who will never feel like I'm doing the work unless I suffer, you know, unless I'm doing something, unless it's a really hard, I make everything more difficult for myself. I don't feel like I've earned it until it's really hard. And I've done it over 90 times. I have two friends that I can think of who are both really successful writers, who just, who it seems to just flow out of. And I know that that's a judgment from the outside, because I'm sure I know everyone's process is different and nothing, no writing is just easy, but they're much quicker

than I am. They're much faster writers who don't seem to belabor everything. And we've talked about it and I'm like, and they're like, why do you make it so hard? And I was like, I just don't, you know, so for a while I was trying to be more like them and I'm not like them. And I realized I'm just not going to be that person. And I kind of like the revising. I kind of like the hard part. But that's not the same as feeling like I have to put myself through that I actually really like, George Saunders wrote this beautiful, beautiful piece. I think it came out last year and it was in The Guardian and it was about, it was one of the best ways I've ever seen the process of writing described. And I'm going to sort of mess it up. And he described how that like, he was like, imagine a person who's setting up like a miniature train set and creating a whole scene with that train set. And so like there's a train

going by and there's a woman in a building and there's a man across the street. And if you, you know, put the woman at just this angle, so she's looking at that man, you might think that you might be able to make up a story about them in the back of your mind about how maybe she's sad that he's way over there, he's left her, and they're waving. But if you turn her 15 degrees, they have no relationship, actually, and she's just staring out into the wild or whatever. And so what a writer has to do, every part of writing is imagining every possible scenario between those two people and trying them out and then sort of using a little bit of like a value gauge and thinking about it every time is, does this change, you know, push me a little bit

more toward good or toward that's bad? And every single decision in writing is trying all of those different scenarios. And then just every single time taking a step back and being like, is this better or is this worse? Is this better or is this worse? And that's everything that I, my experience of this work has been, is that there's no linear linearity, linearness to it. And so you just have to try everything. Also, one of my favorite quotes about writing is from Flaubert, Flaubert, Flaubert, who said, prose is like hair. It shines with combing. Like you just have to go over it over and over and over again. And, you know, for me, cooking was that. I was trained at the beginning very much in the idea that practice and just doing something over and over again is what makes you good at it. And this was before, you know, 10,000 Hours, like Malcolm Gladwell's story piece had come out. And they were always telling me, you won't know anything about cooking until you've been cooking for 10 years. And so I am a student of practice. And when it comes to writing and storytelling,

practicing just means doing it over and over again, every possible way until you figure out the best possible combination. And that's really overwhelming if you think about it, because a lot of my anxiety in writing often comes from not wanting to do that work. Or just entering a process and knowing how many different times I'm going to have to redo this and being really like having so much dread about it. But I also like that suffering. I like that pain. I like that work. And it's just who I am. But I don't think that I need to have that in my like emotional life, you know? Yeah. And also, I mean, when you do that in the context of, I mean, if you're just walking

through life and making everything difficult and that causes suffering, I think that's one thing. But if you look at a process where you're like, you know, it's, it's an expression of your identity, like I am a writer, right? And you're like, there's a process I want to go through. And at the end of this, like I'm working to create something that I hope will be extraordinary and be of service to others. Right. I think the, when you look at the work and the repetition, the iteration, and yes, I'm a writer also, it's, they're suffering and there's no doubt, but when you can assign it meaning because you're like, it's in the name

of something, it changes the way you experience it to a certain extent. Do you feel that? Absolutely. I don't mean to rationalize creating suffering in the name of suffering, but when you know there's just part of the process is going to be unease, but it's in the name of something. Agreed. And for me now, I just know that I'm slow and it takes me a long time to make something.

And that sort of all of that doubt is part of the process. Instead of beating up myself for feeling that doubt and pain, I just understand that that doubt and pain is part of the way to get there. It's funny because Wendy McNaughton, the amazing illustrator who illustrated my book, she just started a column at the New York Times for the business section. I didn't even catch that yet. I'm going to have to start reading it. It's maybe been three or four weeks. It's really great. It comes out on Sundays.

And so for her, the pace of her column is pretty bananas. It's once a week. And she not only has to go report the story and write it, but she also illustrates it and has to do the layout. It's a lot of work. Yeah, it's a very overwhelming thing. And I have a column that I write in the Times Magazine, but mine's just once a month. And already, I couldn't, there were people, there have been people in the past who've done that column once a week or twice a month. And I can't imagine because for me to get the writing done and test the recipe and then, you know, do my fact checking and my reporting, all these different steps, it takes usually two and a half or three weeks for just one.

So to be juggling multiples of those would be, to me, impossible to do. And we talk a lot about the process of the work and it just is hard. And it's been really gratifying for me to have a friend now who's in it with me. And so that we, she understands, we understand together what it is. And there's so much anxiety about it. And also sometimes what happens is a friend will ask me like, oh, I have a cookbook coming out. Would you consider writing about my cookbook in the column? Which I don't do anymore, but I did it once. And also because I really liked my friend's cookbook and I found something to say about it. Or I took a story, a feature story for the magazine because I was offered one and I was like, ooh, I should have that. I should write a

feature story. And both of those pieces caused me so much more grief than any one that I've ever had where I come up with the idea. And same thing has happened to Wendy, where she has some ideas for her columns that are assigned to her by her editors and other ones that she comes up with. And she has a lot of time struggling with the ones that she doesn't come up. And in fact, this week, I think we talked for a long time because she was really hurting and she was trying to figure out. And I said, I don't know if this will translate to what you do, but I have to sort of, the thing I do that is take, like I've, I've learned over practicing this column, you know, now a year and a half is I sort of have to write around something until I get to a point where like, I feel like I figured out what I'm writing toward. What is the point of this? What am I trying to teach with people or share with people? And I only have 800 words to do it. It's not like the, you know,

but I need to figure out what's the point and how I'm going to connect with my reader. And once I figure that out, usually all the rest falls into place, but often it takes me a day or two days or sometimes a week or two weeks to figure out what that is. And that's the painful part. And so, and, and when things are assigned to me or I do them for a reason other than I want to tell a story or share this, it's a lot harder for me to get to that point. And sometimes I can't even find what it is because I'm not moved from the inside to share this thing with the world. Right. It's like, it didn't come from an, an innate curiosity that just kind of popped up within you. So it's almost like you have to, it sounds like what you're doing is you keep writing around it until you can find like what's your inline, like where's your on

ramp for your own personal curiosity. Exactly. Even though it might not have been sort of like the bigger thing that was originally assigned to you. Exactly. And so, yeah. And it also, you know, and I also have other things I need to accomplish in that column. Like when they gave it to me, Sam Sifton said, I don't care what you write about, your recipe needs to be killer and it needs to be something that everyone wants to make. Right. So there's a whole technical side of it like that. Yeah, exactly. And it needs to make a beautiful photo. So there are a lot of like elements that I have to juggle into each column, just like Wendy does. And so in a weird

way, we have this analogous project that we're doing, you know, these projects, and it feels really nice to have a friend who's in it with me because I'm not a regular writer who's just writing an op-ed each week. You know, I'm not reporting stories because, like, they're newsworthy and I need to do that. There's another reason, and it has to come from inside me. Yeah.

And I just have to get used to that. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. me. And I just have to get used to that. Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes. The Apple Watch Series X, available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum. Compared to previous generations, iPhone XS or later required, charge time and actual results will vary. Mayday, mayday, we've been compromised. The pilot's a hitman. I knew you were going to be fun. On January 24th. Tell me how to fly this thing.

Mark Wahlberg. You know what the difference between me and you is? You're going to die. Don't shoot if we need them. Y'all need a pilot. Flight risk. I mean, it sounds like there are a lot of parallels between at least your personal writing process and cooking for you. For sure. I mean, there are, I think I understand things through cooking because it was the first profession that I learned. And it was the first thing I ever sort of, I mean, I don't want to claim mastery, but you know, I reached some level of like proficiency at, and because

I'm a curious person, because I consider myself to be like a student of things, I have never forgotten what it feels like to not know. And I just like pushing. You know, I've known other chefs and cooks who, even before the age of 30, will tell me stuff like, oh, I'm done learning. Like, I don't need to go to whatever country and work with whatever person. I can't even fathom that. Can you imagine being done learning? I'm like, oh my God. I wouldn't want, I wouldn't wish that for me.

Yeah. And so I'm like, how boring and sad and full of yourself is that? So to me, I'm like, I could go anywhere and learn something new from anyone, certainly in cooking. And I think cooking and understanding that good cooking is all about practice has in a lot of ways informed my understanding of how to write, which I really, I mean, it's something I've done my whole life, but I came to professionally only 10 years ago, you know, and which was 10 years into my cooking career. Yeah. So we kind of took a big leap forward in time. Yeah, sorry.

We skipped a whole bunch of stuff. Let's, maybe let's take a bit of a jump back and fill in some of the big gaps here. So, because we have mentioned that you have cooked, but you didn't, you weren't brought up in a household where, you know, like you were, you had a deep interest in cooking or in the culinary world in any way, shape or form when you were younger. In fact, you were – it's almost like you come full circle. You were interested in writing in your younger life. You went to college. You were up in Berkeley studying that.

But then everything changed. Yeah. I don't have any older siblings. When I was little, my aunt – one of my aunts lived with us. And she was a student at some college in San Diego. And she was a librarian with her work study, which at the, you know, now I understand she hated that job. But like to me, I looked up to her so much. And I was like, she's a librarian.

I want to be a librarian when I grow up. You're surrounded by books all day, every day. I have always loved books. It's, you know, and I, it's all I have ever, to me to have a book was the highest thing that I could possibly ever achieve. And so, and I also just, it didn't even occur to me that it wasn't everyone else's life goal. Like, I was like, this is so amazing. Why wouldn't everyone want to write a book? Right.

I saw, I don't know if it's Valorant. I saw a study recently that said something like 95% of people all feel like they have a book in them that they want to write. I love that because I believe it. I think that, yeah, I love that. I think there's something so universal about personal stories. And so like you can connect almost to anyone. And if you can't connect to them, like because you have something in common, then maybe you can understand them.

And so, yeah, I don't know. I love that. So yeah, I always wanted to write. My mom, you know. I'm a child of immigrants. There are three acceptable job paths. I think we all guess them, right? Doctors, lawyer, and engineer. Apparently, the other day I was talking to a friend who's, she's from Africa. And for her, what was also acceptable was some sort of tech job. So a fourth one. Yeah. Like, and yeah, tech engineers, computers. And so I, of those ones, I chose doctor. I was like, and so I was like, I'm going to be a doctor when I grow up. And then when I was in 10th grade or 11th grade, I had this incredible English teacher who really sort of

saw that I could write. And then I had this interest English teacher who really sort of saw that I could write and that I had this interest in words and books and fostered that. And he gave me my first subscription to The New Yorker. We read poetry and we wrote poetry and he really, really encouraged that part of me. And so by the time I was ready to go to college, I knew I wanted to be an English major. And I thought I was going to graduate and be a poet and go to poetry school, which costs $90,000 and promises to never make $90,000. Yeah, that was like a confusing sort of possible life path. But that was what I wanted to do. I always had a sense in my heart that I would perish in a traditional

office job. And so even when there were job fairs on campus, I was like, what am I going to do? Yeah. And as a kid, we ate really well because my mom cooked beautiful Persian food every day. She spent a huge amount of her time shopping for it and cooking it for us. But she wasn't really pulling us into the kitchen. I think she wanted us to do our homework. And so I don't remember really ever being in the kitchen very much, other than like setting the table, clearing the table, you know, putting the yogurt in the bowl. Just like what your average kid's going to do.

But I didn't, yeah, I wasn't like always at my mom's sort of knees begging to help. And then when I was in college, I moved to Berkeley where Chez Panisse restaurant, Alice Waters restaurant, had been opened in 1971. And I remember... Which for those who don't know, by the way, is this legendary, legendary place as is Alice herself. Yeah, it's an American institution. I mean, she is a visionary who has changed the way this country has access to fresh ingredients. And she's changed the way that chefs think and work and sort of made it standard for sort of baseline for people to have seasonal, local, organic ingredients on their menus and so it was revolutionary at the time and now a kind of it's kind of a thing where the great chefs they start there you know and then they go from there and so it's and it's amazing it's amazing and she is amazing and but this was 97

I moved to college and to Berkeley in 97 so it was just the beginning of the internet. I think I got my first email address in 95 or something. And so there was not really celebrity chef culture in the same way. There was not food blogging or food internet. Was Food Network, it was maybe just a couple of years in at that point, right? Food Network existed. There was a show with Emeril, but it was not at all what it later became. And I had, again, like a very mild interest in watching that kind of food stuff. And I loved cooking shows as a kid, but not more than I loved other shows, you know? And so my first week, you know, they give you a college orientation and somebody was like, oh, there's this famous restaurant in town.

And to me, I was like, what's a famous restaurant? And I was like, oh, that's where white people's parents take them when they come visit. But my parents weren't going to take me there. My parents were not going to spend $100 on dinner. They were going to take me to some Persian restaurant or Mexican food or our family friend's house to eat. And we just didn't eat in fancy restaurants. I didn't even understand what was the point of a fancy restaurant. And so I sort of like, it went in one ear and out the other. And then the next year I fell in love. And my boyfriend was from San Francisco. And we spent so much of our time eating together and learning about food together because I've always loved to eat. That's never been a question, you know? And he showed me, you know, his favorite Mexican place, his favorite ice cream place, his favorite pizza place. And he had always wanted to eat at Chez Panisse. And so it became this idea for us to save our money in a shoebox and go there once we had saved

up like $220. So that took seven months and we made a reservation and we went there and the restaurant is divided into upstairs is more informal cafe where you can order a la carte and downstairs is like a more formal dining room with a fixed menu. So we were like, okay, if we're only going once, we're going to go downstairs. So we went downstairs and it really was, I don't even know that I fully understood, my body fully understood what I was entering, you know, when I walked in, but it's a temple to the senses. The place is so beautiful, but in the most understated way, and it feels very warm. And at the time I had no way of knowing, you know, all of the handmaideness of the place, but it's so handmade

in the most thoughtful and intentional way. And the art on the walls and the flower arrangements and the displays of fruit and vegetables and everything about it is so extraordinary. But again, really, really, really subtle and understated. And so I think it probably hit me on some level, but I had no idea. You know, I was the child of immigrants. Athletics were not a priority for my family. You know, getting us in and out of school, getting us fed, getting us like, you know, to be respected by our community. Those were the things that mattered. And so I just maybe absorbed it on some like cellular level. And I was so inspired by this meal where I felt so taken care of by the staff

that I wrote a letter and I asked for a job. I always worked throughout college. And so they hired me pretty much on the spot. I think in retrospect that they were probably pretty, like as a person who's now run a lot of restaurants, like I think she was desperate and she needed someone because she was like, can you start tomorrow? And I did. Which is interesting too, because when you wrote that letter, did you even know what job you wanted or you just knew you wanted to do that? By then I understood that some college students were busing tables there. And so I was like, oh, maybe I can do that. And even in the letter, I said, I've never worked in a restaurant. I don't have any food experience, but I can learn anything. And we in the letter, I said, I've never worked in a restaurant. I don't have any food experience, but I can learn anything.

And we saved up for this dinner and it was so extraordinary and magical. Please like give me this opportunity. In your mind, like what's, is this just like an interesting job at a cool place? And, but you're still on path to being like a writer. Yeah, I was still in school. I was still in school. I wasn't going to, no, I was too indoctrinated as an immigrant kid to like ever let go of my education. For sure.

It was just a job. At least I get to earn some money on the side in a cool place. Yeah, totally. And like beautiful food, which to me I'm like I just want to eat good stuff all the time. So, yeah, it didn't ever occur to me that I would be into some other thing. Right, it wasn't like, ooh, this is my future. No, not at all. I mean I had a work-study job before that where I basically filed papers in an office.

So to me, this was a step up from that because I got to be in a beautiful social environment. And so with good food. And so I started and almost immediately, you know, my very first job, my very first day, my first task was they walked me through the kitchen, which is just so beautiful and warm and quiet and running at such a sort of like slow, perfect hum or maybe fast, perfect hum. It's like a ballet, like everybody knows how to move in that kitchen. And the walls are actually like a lot of them are lined with copper. So the way that the light reflects the wall on the walls is this beautiful, warm light. And, you know, the chefs are all wearing walls is this beautiful, warm light. And, you know, the chefs are all wearing these, like, gleaming white chef coats.

And there's, again, beautiful produce displays everywhere. And it just, it seemed like a movie set or something, you know? And I walked through the kitchen into the dining room, and they had me vacuum the floor. Even the vacuum was magical. It was, like, a central vacuum, which I had never seen before. It's just this like 40-foot hose that you plug in the ground and it starts sucking. And I was like, even the vacuum here is amazing. And I just, by then I sort of had some concept of what this place meant in the world.

And I was like, I just can't believe they're letting me vacuum the floors. It felt really like an honor. And I held onto that feeling the whole time I worked there because I saw a lot of other people grow jaded over time and you start to take it for granted because it becomes your normal. And I sort of told myself that I would leave before that happened to me. I wouldn't let that happen. The day I didn't feel privileged to walk up that ramp and come to work at this place. I didn't want to work there anymore. So, I mean, what was it that was happening internally with you that let you stay there, like work really, really, really, really hard,

sometimes on the most basic entry-level jobs, wherever a period of months or years, other people either burn out or get jaded and leave, but for you, it's like, no, I'm in. I mean, I also was only there a total, I think, three or three and a half years. So that jadedness comes to a lot of people around 20-year mark. So that's part of it. And also, like, the food world is really hard.

And there are cooks there who anywhere else would be considered, like, award-winning chefs in their own right. Certainly at that point in time, there were the majority of the cooks who I learned from had been there over 20 years, which is an extraordinarily long time to be a cook. And it's an- In one place also. And it's an eon to be a cook in one place. And that says a lot about Alice

and the conditions that she creates for cooks and for people that says a lot about the fact that that restaurant exists for its cooks in many ways and that it's a treat to work there and you know it the whole time you're because imagine if you're a farmer and you have you know there's for example there was for now i think there are a few more people who grow mulberries but at the time that i worked there there was basically one mulberry tree. There was one mulberry tree in Northern California and it was in Sonoma. And so, of course, the woman who grew those mulberries, the one place she would want to bring them to is Chez Panisse. You know, she has had by that point a 30-year relationship with them.

And if she wants her fruit to be like, you know, treated with the most ultimate respect on a menu where fruit is everything, she's going to bring it to this place. And so as a cook, you know, you're never going to get to see those mulberries anywhere else. You also know that any farmer, even if they're the same farmers selling stuff at the farmer's market, they're saving their most perfect tomatoes for Chez Panisse. And so it's a luxury. It really is a luxury kitchen in so many ways. And you don't lose sight of that as a cook. You know, you know what you have. And it's an amazing honor to get to work with that stuff. And it's really, it's so special. It's so, so, so special. So you're, I mean, you're there working in this environment,

still going to school and sort of like diving in, working your way up and taking tons of notes from what I understand, like constantly, constantly making a lot of mistakes, but staying in it. So many mistakes. At what point do you start to realize, okay, so I'm getting my degree at Berkeley. I want to pass to be a writer, but this other thing is happening and it's getting bigger and I'm getting drawn into it. I'm more and more interested. Was there a moment or was it just sort of like a gradual process where you're like, this is becoming my thing? I think by the time I had worked there for about a year, I really was so admiring of the cooks that I wanted to be like them. Because it's so drilled into me that the only things that matter are things a person can

get degrees for, you know, and that's definitely an immigrant mentality. Like I wasn't going to let go of my education and I wasn't going to let go of the idea of even like a higher degree, but I also wanted this. And I was so inspired by this and I really pushed for it. And every time I was told, no, there was always a but. It was like, no, but if you do this thing, if you and they would give me sort of increasingly large set of hurdles, like read these books, cook from this thing, work for free for this many months, do this. And I think all of those were meant to discourage me from doing it.

But I never got discouraged. I kept coming back. And at some point I was, you know, the chef who really became my mentor, Chris Lee, he told me, he said, he took me aside and he was like, listen, you have to want this. You have to want to be a cook more than anything else, more than you've ever wanted anything else, because there's no glory in it. There's no money in it. There's not really any respect.

Like, there's not, you're not going to get anything. So the only thing that's going to keep you going long term is that you care very deeply about this and you want it so badly. And being the very earnest young student that I was and am, continue to be, I went home and I thought about that for a long time. And I wasn't ever sure that I did want it more than anything else because I really wanted to be a writer. But I came to him and I said, you know, and I said that, I said, I want this really badly. I will give everything I have, but I don't know that I want it more than anything else. And I think that that's true. I still true. I never wanted to be a chef with my own restaurant. I never wanted to have my name on like a line of olive oils or whatever. Those were not the

things that I wanted. I just wanted to learn how to do this thing and be able to stand amongst these people and be one of them, you know, which goes back to my whole like thing that motivates me in my life is I just want to be part of the thing that everyone else is a part of or that I think everyone else is a part of.

And so I think because I spent such careful time really feeling about getting my feelings clear about what I wanted, they were able to like, he was like, okay, fine. Like I'll let you in. And, and yet people never really discouraged me from writing or, or from following that other stuff. And I still tell this to anybody who is a young person who comes to me and aspires to be a cook, I say, I'm sure you care about something else. Do not let that go away. Invest in that too. Go to college too and be a cook. You know, learn ceramics too and be a cook. Because cooking chews you up and spits you out. And I've watched. And that was

what he was trying to tell me. You know, he was like, you're too smart to be a cook. Don't quit school for this. And at the time it seemed like the most glorious, glamorous thing. But a lot of those cooks who'd worked there for 20 years were still making 22 bucks an hour. And in a cook in that kitchen, 22 bucks an hour is amazing. But in the world, anyone else who is very masterful at what they've done and does it for 20 years. Right. And very often works like 10, 15 hours a day. Yeah. And not to say that everything's about money, but the Bay Area is a really expensive place to live.

And so it's a really complicated thing. And for me, I think so much about like bigger social issues. So I understand the why of this has to do with our health care system and our government and subsidies and the way that Americans culturally don't want to pay for their food, you know, pay more money. And many Americans can't pay more for their food. So it's just, it's such a complicated thing, but I've watched it sort of play itself out in so many people's lives who I really care about. And I feel really angry about that and really bad about that. And I had someone who from the beginning warned me and I never forgot about that warning. So I did want to still be a writer. And I think the moment for me came a couple years into like when I was cooking like part dish time and then working for one of my professors after I'd graduated. I was his assistant.

And then I also had a third job on campus where I, even though I'd graduated, I was still editing one of the school newspapers, like the art section. And so I sort of had all these juggling things and I had applied to get an MFA in poetry. And I got accepted to Sarah Lawrence, which was the school I really wanted to go to. And I'd never visited New York before.

And so it was the prospective students weekend. So I came to New York. And on that same weekend, Chris Lee and his family were in Italy on their family vacation. And I knew that he was going there. And I had asked him to ask Benedetta Vitale, this chef who had come and done a couple events at Chez Panisse, who I had met and really respected, if she would take me on as an apprentice in her kitchen. And so I came to visit Sarah Lawrence, and it was amazing and very intimidating. And I felt like everyone was so worldly, and there were all these big city people who knew how to take a train, and I didn't know how to do any of that. And I was like, how am I going to do this? How am I going to pay this $90,000 and move

to New York and figure this out? And Chris emailed me and he said, Benedetta said she would take you. You can come. So I ended up deferring the master's degree and going to Italy instead. I saved up like for six months to have enough money to go to Italy

and then I never ended up like, you know, going back to the poetry school. And then you were in Italy for three years or something like that? I was in Italy for about two years, but I was there for six months. And then I was applying for a Fulbright grant, again, because I was operating from this very student-driven, like intellectual, academic-driven place, which was the only way that I could understand like mastery in the world, you know, or like getting any degree of outside respect, which also still honestly, like even my aunts and uncles still are like, when are you going to go to your PhD? I'm like, I have a freaking TV show. Like, I'm not going to get an PhD. And so, so I was applying for this Fulbright and I wanted to study

traditional food making techniques in Italy that were disappearing because the European Economic Commission and the EU had changed all these laws in the late 90s to try and standardize food production techniques across the EU, which meant that food traditions that were like up to 3000 years old in Italy were now illegal. Things like storing, there's a kind of cured meat called Lardo di Colonata, which is cured in these marble boxes. And Colonata is close to like Carrara, where Carrara marble comes from. And so there are these beautiful marble boxes that are stored essentially in these very cold rooms. And this meat is cured in salt. And the marble turns out is antiseptic. And for 3,000 years, this thing has been made this way and people are not dead. But all of a sudden this became illegal because it wasn't in a stainless steel kitchen with refrigeration. But the flavor comes from the air and the mountains and this whole process, you know. And so actually the people of Kolanata

like protested and ended up winning. So I thought this kind of stuff was really interesting. People sort of coming up to protect their traditions. And the Italians, of course, are so protective of their food traditions. And I wanted to work on that. So I researched and I wrote an application for that. And I like miraculously became a finalist. But in order to not disqualify myself, I had to leave Italy. And so I came back to the States for a little while.

I returned to Chez Panisse. And then I found out I didn't get it. And I was heartbroken. But Benedetta said, come back. You can help me write a book, which was the best possible thing, was cooking and writing. So I went back and we worked on a book. In the end, she never published that. But again, I got to live there for another year and a half, which was really formative

and really, really difficult in a lot of ways and really amazing. And also I became fluent in Italian by the end. And, you know, this really colored how I understood how to be a good cook for sure. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist, whether you're running, swimming, or sleeping. And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes.

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Underneath it all, it's like you know that you have this, you've always had this fierce desire to write and, you know, an emerging desire over a period of years to cook. And you've developed this extraordinary career path and the things you've accomplished are mind blowing. And yet it really doesn't seem like, as fierce as you are, as hardworking as you are, as heads down and just like, I will do whatever it takes to succeed at this. The bigger trajectory is not one you plotted. Oh no. It wasn't intentional.

No, no, no, no. It was like, you just worked brutally hard. We're open to just keeping a beginner's mind the whole time. And it seems like that laid the foundation for serendipity to happen. I think serendipity is a huge part of it. And there's that Steve Jobs, like commencement speech that he gave about looking backwards, right to connect the dots, connecting the dots backwards. And I that rang so true for me, even though I heard it, you know, not that deeply,

I wasn't that deep into my career when I first listened to that speech, but I understood you can't plot these things, you know, and the kind of life that I have and the kind of career that I have, I can't like plan that it's going to take five steps of this, this, and this and medical school and then

residency and internship to get to being a doctor. You know, I don't have that. There's no roadmap for me. And so all I know is I can do something that I care about and work really hard. And of course, I have really ambitious, I have had really ambitious ideas about what the best is, you know, and what's the thing. So for example, when I started cooking, I started reading all about food. And the most amazing column, the most, like to me, the highest column in the land about food was the New York Times Magazine food column. And I read every single one for the past 20 years. And then a few years ago, I found out that one of the columnists was leaving. So I just blind, I blind found the address, the email address of the person who now is my editor, Claire,

and Sam Sifton. And I wrote them this crazy email, like just this three line email being like, hey guys, like you don't know who I am, but I am your next columnist. I've wanted this for so long and they never responded. And I was kind of embarrassed. I was like, should I send it? Should I not? And I was like, well, what do I have to lose? So I pressed send and they never wrote back. And then two years after that, they, you know, Sam was like, hey, do you want to do this thing? So I was like, I don't know if on the way, you know, maybe that planted a seed. Who knows? And I've asked them both. They're like, we have no idea what you're talking about. We don't remember. So, but to me, it's like, I put it out there. I'm really good at

asking for things. And I'm also really good at being told no. Like if people tell me no, I'm like, okay, that's not happening this way. I'll go figure this thing out. I don't really get discouraged by that. Maybe because I've been told no so many times. So I always encourage people to like try to develop a thicker skin, because rejection is not bad. Failure is not bad. And also, I mean, like one of the things that you saw in your time at Chez Panisse was that every time somebody was like throwing up another, no, here's another hurdle, like go read a gazillion books, go do this, like go find this. I mean, it's like, it seems like your experience

of that was, but if I do it, like over time, you start to realize it's not a no, it's just like, are you willing to go there? Are you willing to do what it takes to get where you want to go? That was definitely what they were doing was trying to weed out people. Because I think a lot of people at that time certainly came through and were like enchanted by it and wanted that. But they had no business being in there because they had zero skills. And that's not to say that they don't take on people who know nothing. It's just that you have to be willing,

you have to be a quick study. You have to be willing to work hard. They don't want someone who's going to come in there and complain about having to pick up the dirty mats. And there's a lot of delusion also. There's a lot of like, and it's funny, my wife was in the restaurant industry for about 10 years in New York.

And like we learned really quick, it's brutally hard. It's crazy hours. And everybody, like remember we said, like everybody wants to write a book. So many people have this fantasy of saying like, you know, I want to own a restaurant. And the illusion is I'm just going to own this place and I'm going to walk in and everyone will be at tables having a wonder. And I'm just going to wander around. How was your meal? And this is my place. And, and I'll wander in and then I'll wander out and it'll largely run itself. And, but the day-to-day life is pretty

brutal. There's always something breaking, something sick, nobody shows up. Right. So it's like you have to sort of snap somebody out of that. But so you're, you're sort of doubling down, you're committing everything. Every time there seems to be a no, like your brain starts to be able to translate it as, okay, so what does this really mean? And how do I like move through it? And over time, you start to become an extraordinary chef. I'm saying that. I know you might have not necessarily say that. And develop or absorb this theory of cooking, which is not here's a recipe, follow it, here's a recipe, follow it, but really understand the elements like these four powerful elements.

And once you do that, everything becomes possible. Yeah. I mean, for me, a big part of that was the fact that Chez Panisse really cross-traits cooks. And so these people who I was learning from and watching, I was in such awe that I would come in and they were thrown every day what seemed to be curveballs. Like the menus were written and they changed every single day. And they had to do with the chef's whims and the seasons and what was available.

And there was no obvious method to the magic, certainly not to somebody who didn't understand anything. And so, you know, one day we would make, I don't know, French onion soup. The next day we would make, you know, lasagna. The next day we were making couscous. The next day we were making clams from Barcelona or whatever. Like it was just, I was like, how do they know how to make everything? It's not like they read one cookbook and memorized the recipes. It's not even like they read 30 cookbooks and memorized the recipes. They can do anything.

And we would sit in these meetings that were more poetry and lyricism than they were like instruction. And their chef might say like, and then I just want it to feel a little bit like this or be a little bit like this or look a little bit like this. And then these cooks would just get up and go do it. And by it, I mean make dinner for 100 people in three hours perfectly. You know, we would have the menu meeting was done at 2.30 and dinner started at 5.30. So they literally had three hours to, you know, make lasagna from scratch, like butcher entire animals and get them on a spit and get them cooking, braise stuff, like make stocks. And that is a remarkable achievement. It really is. You have to be calm, but you have to be fast. And they, I couldn't believe that there was never any doubt or there never appeared to be any doubt about what to do. And so I just didn't understand.

It took me a long time to understand that beef bourguignon and braised chicken and pork shoulder that gets turned into pulled pork are all the same recipe. They just change a little bit of the liquid and the cut of meat. But what's in the pot is doing the same thing. And so over time, I noticed that we were always sort of coming back to these four things, to salt, fat, acid, and heat, that we always salted our meat the day in advance for, you know, especially for braised or roasted dishes, to give the salt time to penetrate the meat and season it from within. And on any occasion that people forgot to do that, you could taste it.

It wasn't like there was some, someone had decreed long ago, do it this way. It was like, there was a reason, which was taste. Taste dictated all of our choices, really. And we would come together to taste every dish. And often the thing was, oh, this needs a little bit more salt. And this needs a little bit more acid, a little bit of lemon. Or, you know, before starting to saute onions, people would ask, do you want me to cook that in butter or in oil? And I always was like, oh, that's like the chef just being like, you know,

why would they have an opinion about that? And then later you learn, well, if you're making something from Southern Italy, they don't use butter there. So if you start with butter, your dish will never taste truly Southern Italian. And if you're making, I don't know, Indian food, don't use olive oil. They don't have olive trees there. So you figure out, oh, the fat matters, you know, and the temperature of the fat matters because the pastry cooks were obsessed with cold butter. And on the savory side, we always wanted like weird, soft, warm butter. Yeah. And acid was always this like tweak often at the end, like, or the fact that always braises needed wine. And I was like, why does there have to be wine in it? And I came

from a family that didn't drink wine. So I felt weird. Like if I wanted to make something at home, adding wine. So I was like, well, maybe if I do, you know, a little bit extra tomato, that acidity helps. And if I didn't do wine, I could taste that it tasted totally different than the one at work. And heat for me was kind of the biggest light bulb in a lot of ways, because there were so many ways that I didn't understand how the cooks knew how to crank the stove or how to crank the oven, and things just came out well. And so, but whereas I was like, well, does it be, should it be 325 or 350? Should it be 18 minutes or 22 minutes? And over time I realized, well, for one thing in a restaurant, people are always opening

and closing the ovens to get stuff in and out. So the temperature is never what it says it is anyway. And then things like, I remember there was one day where I had to make tomato soup and there was no more stove space. The stove was too crowded. So they told me to build a fire in the fireplace and cook over the fireplace. And I was terrified. I didn't understand how that could possibly be that. And over time, I started to realize a fire is just the same as a gas burner. You just can't turn it up and down. So what you do is you move your pot to the hot spot or the cool spot. And so

you change the location of the pot rather than the flame itself. And those things over time gave me this understanding. And I went to Chris and I said, oh, like I see this thing, salt, fat, acid, heat. And he was like, yeah, duh, like we all know that. And I said, it's not in any of the huge stack of books you've told me to read. It's not in any of these recipes, you know, no one's ever told me this. I've been here a year and a half or two years. Why didn't anyone tell me if you all know it? You know, and I understood that if no one had told me, then nobody was telling anybody else who was reading these books. And at that time, I was like, I'm going to write a book about this one day. And I started taking notes. And then I realized I didn't know anything. So it just became the system into which I filed away everything that I learned. And it became the language that I developed to teach other young cooks. You know, by the time I met Michael Pollan, I'd been doing that for 10 years. So when he asked me to teach him how to cook, it was natural. It was naturally the language that I used. And he picked up on that and he really encouraged me to turn it into a book. Yeah. And when Michael says, this is the book.

Totally. You listen, because I had by then bringing, I'd been bringing him like really bad ideas, really bad ones. And he was like, these are bad ideas, Samin. And so I was hesitant in a lot of ways, even though I knew I wanted to write that book for so long, because I knew it've got these four things, but other than that, like there wasn't a cookbook. It was so interesting too. So, I mean, the short of it is that you end up writing this extraordinary book and- Very short of it. Very, very short of it. I know it's like, you know, but you start working on this and I guess maybe we should go into that a little bit. No, no. I just mean it took me a lot of years to figure out how to do it. Right. But also because of the process of you then shifting back to being like, okay, so I'm in author mode now. Like I'm in writer mode. Like I've got this incredible decade plus of experimentation, of input, of figuring this thing. And I've got the structure.

Like I have the macro frame of what I want to write. But then when you sit down and especially because you have such reverence for both writing and for the craft of cooking, like when you sit down and you know, like, okay, I need to honor, I need to honor everything, like both of these worlds on a level and your standard for what you want to do is so high. Thank you for noticing. I mean, mindset wise, it must have been so hard. It was so hard and so crippling. And I had so many waves. And I honestly continue to have so many waves of imposter syndrome.

I actually got this amazing writing residency that was in Point Reyes in West Marin. And it's like a two-week residency. And there's an amazing bookstore there, just like a short walk from the house. And I was like, okay, I'm going to write this book proposal here at this house. So I would walk down to the bookstore and look at all the cookbooks. And I was like, well, all these books exist. What do I have to say? Like what I'm saying is actually part of all these books. And I have this amazing friend, Tamar Adler, who's an extraordinary writer. And her book, An Everlasting Meal, had just come out. And it said a lot of the same things that I believed.

And I was just like, well, her book already did it. Like, I don't need to do it. And so that was really discouraging. And then I am a student of Michael's in many ways, and I was a student of his words well before I met him. And I had a lot of appreciation and admiration for the way that he can take a very complicated subject that he's curious about and take you as the reader on this learning journey where you're doing it together. Because I mean, it's, this is an age old thing of

experiential journalism of like, I'm going to learn this thing. I'm going to take you along with me. But he has a way of doing it where you never feel condescended to. And also he's kind of a dope and like you get to like, you kind of love that he's a dope and like him being a dope makes you feel like, well, if he's a dope and I'm a dope, like I can trust him. And yet he's an extraordinarily talented writer. So he can tell these beautiful, beautiful stories. And there was just this incredible balance that he had that I really, I looked up to so much and I decided I was going to do that in my book. So I set out to do that, but I realized

that I couldn't because I needed to have some measure of authority to tell you what to do because I was, I was your teacher here. And so I couldn't take you on the learning journey where I made a million mistakes, but what I could do was remember back to them and tell those stories of all those mistakes because that was what I did a lot of the time in my cooking classes. And I taught people, I would be like, oh, I know this seems impossible and scary. And let me tell you about the mistake that I made when this seemed impossible and scary. And that's probably the same mistake you were making. And this is why you fix it and how you fix it and how you go on from there.

And so I had seen that work for people in my class. So I just had to figure out how to do it on the page. So in the beginning, my first draft, I was trying to be Michael Pollan and I couldn't be. My second draft, I tried to be Tamar Adler and I couldn't be. And eventually I realized I just had to be myself. But it took me a long time, at least two more drafts of the book for my editor to come to me directly and say, you need to step into the authority and stop being

wishy-washy. Like you have to own this. And that was really hard, but because I also hate the idea that I'm being bossy to somebody or something, even though I can be very bossy. But so I realized, but I figured out how to do it with humor and- And humility with humor and with a lot of self-deprecation. There's a lot of humility. And as much as it is – like you're clearly in a role of authority when you write and I'm sure when you cook and teach as well. You're very much also – your humanity leads. Your openness and your beginner's mind continues to lead. And I think that's what makes it okay for everybody to step into it.

Because the book you wrote is not a typical cookbook in any way, shape or form. You know, yes, there are recipes, there are things to do, but you really, you are going on a journey. It's not a Michael Pollan style journey, but it's a journey. Totally. And my goal was, you know, my goal as a teacher, my goal at all times in all the things that I do is to give people the tools so that they ultimately don't need me. You know, I want you to be self-reliant and, and it's funny, I want to do for you what my therapist is trying to do

for me. And so. Through food and self-discovery. Yeah, yeah. Save you a couple, a little bit of money in 10 years. Yeah. And it'll be a lot more delicious. So it's, but I do think, I think the world sort of conspires and certainly like the modern capitalistic world with Instagram certainly conspires to send us messages at all times that we don't have or we don't know what we need. Especially about cooking, that you need this fancy tool, that you need this fancy ingredient, that you need to go take this like class or whatever. But the thing is, is as humans, like a lot of this stuff is just built into our

DNA and our, you know, we evolved to taste for certain reasons and for certain things. And we evolved to like certain things because we need salt in our bodies because, you know, yeah, we need to consume certain fats that our bodies can't produce. You already know that even if you think you don't, you might just not have the vocabulary for it. So if I can give you the vocabulary for it and help you understand how to make the decisions, then maybe you won't need me or you won't need other recipes or other cookbooks. Or if you feel like you're going to use them, you can feel a little bit more empowered to substitute something or to not have to go out

to the store if you're out of spinach and use chard, you know, and understand why a recipe calls for something so you can make better decisions and be a better cook with a lot less pain. Yeah, no, it makes so much sense. And, um, and what you created was really beautiful. Um, and then when it released out into the world, I'm really curious about this actually. So you've written this gorgeous book. It's a big book too, working with Wendy to illustrate this, Wendy McNaughton, who's like a beautiful, incredible illustrator. The day before this book is about to move out into the world. And like this thing that you've now been working on, you've written multiple manuscripts of, you've had success in the world of cooking, but now like you've wanted

to be a writer from the time you were a little kid. And this is like the first really big, this is like, I want to write a book. This is, this is the first, like the night before. How are you feeling? Well, Wendy and I were in New York for our book, like release and our book tour. And we were in a hotel together. We had rooms next to each other. And Wendy made me, Wendy, I have a lot of friends in my life who are really good at making me appreciate the milestones because I am in such autopilot achievement mode that I'll put my head down and be like, okay, like this book's coming. What do I have to do to promote it? Like I would have not noticed, you know? And so I wouldn't have taken the time to like sit down and have that feeling. So in the week leading up to it, I remember I went to therapy and I and actually the month leading up to it, I had gone to therapy and been really worried about what I knew I would probably do if I wasn't careful, which was let my self-worth ride on the wave of either criticism or, you know, positive or negative criticism.

And I didn't want to have to do that roller coaster. So I asked my therapist, what do I do? How do I prevent this? Because I've always, you know, lived and died by outside acceptance. And I need to change that because this is going to be so much more high stakes for me than anything ever has that I can't let that happen. So he told me the way was that we would have to come up with a definition that I felt comfortable for, comfortable with about success, like what success meant to what meant to me. And so I, over the course of many weeks, realized that what I realized I could control was what I had done. And I knew that I had given everything I could give, that I had done every draft I could do, that I had called in every favor I could call in, that I had made Wendy redo things 900 times and our designer and asked for every possible thing. I had never compromised. And knowing that to me was the

success. And if that landed with the world, then that landed with the world. And if the world didn't see it, then they didn't want this thing that I had made. But like, I could at least be happy with the thing that I had made because I knew that I had done everything I could do to make it as good as possible. So by then I felt good about that. I knew that I had given everything I'd given. But the night before, Wendy was like, we have to go have a glass of champagne at midnight. So we went downstairs in the hotel bar and we had like nuts and champagne. And she was like, it's your moment, you know? And for her, this was her ninth book or something. She knew how big a deal it was for me. And I'm so grateful that she really made me take that time. And,

and my agent is also really wonderful and very much a friend who also makes me stop and appreciate. And right now, I mean, it's gotten so much bigger. These things are so much bigger and so much more. Most of them I don't absorb. They sort of just roll off me. It's too much. And I just have to like feel good about any little part of it that I can let myself feel. Yeah. Because I mean, as we sit here recording this in the studio, you know, so the book comes out, it makes a huge splash, huge success that leads to other interesting opportunities. You create a four-part Netflix series based on the sulfate acid heat, which is by the way, anyone who will throw a link in the show notes. I sat, I literally watched it with my daughter and, and she wanted to watch binge watch the whole thing. And I was like, no, no, no, no. It's like,

this is so beautiful and so good. And, and the storytelling and the cinematography and the food, it was like, you could taste it through the screen and just like the beautiful humanity that came through. I was like, let's savor this one. And literally, like, they forced us to watch it one part, you know, like, at a time on different days. So when you launch into that world, you know, where also you go from being in a fairly solitary process to this, I mean, big production traveling around the world. The pace of things compounds exponentially. The expectations go up. The budgets that go into it are like ridiculous. And there's a sense that there's so much more on the line. So you're operating on a whole

different level and you're forward facing and public on a whole different level. These two words just keep popping into my mind as you're speaking during the conversation. One word is rest and the other word is savor. And you kind of spoke about your, it's almost like it feels like part of your work is to learn to rest and to learn to savor. Yes, yeah, absolutely. It's funny because in certain ways, I can totally savor the way something tastes. I'm not so good at letting things

like really penetrate my heart and feel, mostly good things. You know, I can feel bad things really well. And it's funny at one point recently, the show's come out and it's been so successful. At one point recently, I have been shielded throughout the process of making the show and somewhat since it's come out. And I do a lot of personal shielding where I don't go that much on the internet anymore. I don't really go on Twitter. I don't really go, I don't read most of the press that comes out. I don't really go on Instagram. There's just too much coming at me and it's almost like universally

very positive. But I had a moment actually where I was like, what is this happening? Why can't I read all the comments and just take in all of this positivity? And I went in onto Twitter, which is known for being a not positive place. And I noticed what I was doing when I was reading the messages that people were writing me was I was waiting for the bad one, you know, so I would read two or three and then I would get increasingly nervous because they were all so positive. And I was like, well, if these are all so good, there's going to be a bad one. And I didn't want to be vulnerable. Like I felt very afraid being vulnerable for that bad one because I'm the person who might get a million positive ones, one weird criticism, and then only remember the criticism. And so I have some loosening up in

my heart to do. I have some vulnerable making to do to be able to know that that criticism is coming and that it won't kill me and to be able to feel it. And I think when I can open up to the full possibility that something and to letting whatever comes come in, then I will be able to feel, you know, really get that savoring. But it's almost like I don't let the savoring happen because I'm afraid to let whatever bad thing happen. And because they're like tied together in your mind, in my mind. Yeah. Yeah. Like it's like, yeah, yeah, yeah. It's like, when's the other shoe going to drop, you know? And so that's part of it. I'm not proud of it, but at least I realized what it was. So I can

like sort of circle around it and figure out how to deal with it. And rest is the other thing. And I have a few friends who are just constantly like texting me like, eat your vegetables, go to bed early. Just breathe. Yeah, totally. But if you think, I mean, think about it in the context of food, right? It's like so many things like, okay, so you do the cooking, but somewhere in that process, very often towards the end,

if you don't let it rest, that is the secret ingredient is when you do nothing. Totally. Totally. Or, you know, I think a lot about agriculture and fall ingredient is when you do nothing. Totally. Totally. Or, you know, I think a lot about agriculture and fallow times, you know, in nature and stuff. And like, that's what winter's for or, or yeah, leaving a field fallow. And so I understand that at least like I've grown to understand that I also just can't go, go, go. And so I've done, I'm like better at taking preemptive measures so for example before all of this started I planned for myself that I would have a month off in January and I rented a cabin in the desert and it's not even so much that it's complete

vacation like I'll still have work to do but it's just kind of a break from the pace of all of this and it's it's a built-in thing thing. The publicists know they can't plan something. And I need to figure out what's going to come after. If I do want to resume this, or if I do want to move to making the next creative thing, I do intuitively understand. I need to have quiet time without a whole bunch of external input

so that I can figure out what's happening inside and what's going to be the next thing. Yeah. So one thing that happened since the show's come out and like so many opportunities are just constantly coming at me and things that seem probably before this would have seemed like incredible and I should say yes to all of them. I think I've, I realized I just am not in a place to say yes or no to anything. So I'm just putting a hold on like any decision making until I have quiet time

to figure out what makes sense to do. Because otherwise I do, you know, I'm human and I'm like definitely like still very much a child inside. So I'm always like, ooh, that sparkly opportunity. Ooh, that like, ooh, this I would get to be close to this person. Ooh, look at that paycheck or something. And as I said before, like I know that if I don't decide to do something because I care about it in my heart, I will be miserable. So it's better if I just don't say yes right now. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.

So as we sit here coming full circle in our conversation in this container of the good life project, if I offer out the phrase to live a good life, what comes up? To be with people that I love around a table to um tell stories and listen to stories to get to appreciate the natural world um to take care of each other and feel taken care of. To be very cozy on a lot of sheepskins. To get to go swimming in the ocean.

To get to garden, to be in a garden. That's like to me the ultimate good life. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much for listening. And thanks also to our fantastic sponsors who help make this show possible. You can check them out in the links we have included in today's show notes. And while you're at it, if you've ever asked yourself, what should I do with my life?

We have created a really cool online assessment that will help you discover the source code for the work that you're here to do. You can find it at sparkotype.com. That's S-P-A-R-K-E-T-Y-P-E.com. Or just click the link in the show notes. And of course, if you haven't already done so, be sure to click on the subscribe button in your listening app so you never miss an episode.

And then share, share the love. If there's something that you've heard in this episode that you would love to turn into a conversation, share it with people and have that conversation. Because when ideas become conversations that lead to action, that's when real change takes hold. See you next time. You're going to die. Don't shoot him. We need him. Y'all need a pilot. Flight risk. The Apple Watch Series 10 is here. It has the biggest display ever. It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist,

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