Three Things

BBQ chicken sandwiches, culinary intelligence, a joyful summer novel

Good morning, friends, and let me start this missive with my most heartfelt thank-you to the Dinner: A Love Story community. It’s hard to overstate how much all of your messages meant to me last week after sharing my news. I have read every single note and eventually I will try to reply, but please know that each one tethered me to the land of the living, to quote a favorite book, and reminded me, yet again, of how much there is to feel grateful for. On the topic of gratitude! I have relocated for a few weeks up to the Hudson Valley where we have rented the most delightful cottage, seemingly built from the studs for the sole purpose of relaxing and recovering. There is something beautiful to look at from every seat in the house — as I type this, I’m sitting at a backyard picnic table with a view of nothing but trees, a pond (!), and a field of goldenrod. Plus, would you look at that stack of cookbooks!? Canal House! Maida Heatter! Bombay Kitchen! Buvette! Renée Erickson! You know how you just know you would get along with someone based on their bookshelves? Besides one or two glaring omissions (lol), this could be my own kitchen, plus a dozen or so cookbooks that I’ve been meaning to buy forever. And on that note, before we get to this week’s Three Things, I have a request: Give me one specific recipe from one specific book in that stack that you love to make — or that you think I would love to make — and tell me why. This is an assignment I feel like you guys are going to crush.

And now, your Three Things…

1. Every Meal, An Event!

Fifteen years before Pete Wells wrote about the hazards of restaurant reviewing on his aging body, there was Peter Kaminsky, the “Underground Gourmet” columnist for New York Magazine and cookbook collaborator for some of the late 90s and early aught’s great restaurant chefs. Kaminsky, a food-lover and joy-seeker of the highest order, wrote a book called Culinary Intelligence addressing the same issues as Wells, namely his “truly insatiable appetite for the pleasures of the table and the equally strong urge to survive.” As he wrote, “Rather than forgo health on the one hand, or hedonism on the other, I believe that the two can exist quite happily.” His (quite-successful) strategy boiled down to what he called “flavor per calorie,” and though I’m loathe to even write the word “calorie” in this space — which, to me, instantly telegraphs denial and restriction — I love the premise, which is: If you are intentional about eating real, intensely-flavored food, you won’t need a lot of it, and both pleasure and satisfaction will follow.

I’m not dealing with the health issues that Wells or Kaminsky faced — borderline obesity, pre-diabetes, among other things — but three weeks into my own recovery, I’ve been thinking so much about Kaminsky’s philosophy. Probably because I’ve been putting a ridiculous amount of pressure on mealtime to deliver pleasure — along with the World Cup, it is by far the most exciting part of my restful days, like more than ever. So In the absence of anything else to do, I wake up and immediately ask myself “What can I eat today that is delicious?” And also, because I’m newly attuned to my body and body-related things I can control, I ask: “What can I eat today that will make me feel good?”

You’ll be shocked to hear that I have excelled at answering this question. There are so many things I can do — we all can do — to give the most everyday things a little promotion in the Department of Special. With apologies to MFK Fisher: My morning iced coffee is exponentially more joyful when I have it alongside a single, perfect piece of chocolate rugelach. So is my evening mocktail, made with a yuzu soda, a spike of pineapple juice, and sweet white nectarine slices. The first dinner I cooked for myself was an omelet made with golden-yellow eggs and a thin but staggeringly flavorful slice of French raclette oozing out the sides. There was last night’s pasta sauce that Andy made with fresh tomatoes then whirled in a blender with beautiful olive oil and three umami-boosting anchovy fillets. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about my regular old Fage 2% yogurt with an out-of-season mango for breakfast. But now I think: Why not make that a local, Hawthorne Valley maple yogurt with Caravaggio-worthy-looking apricots and plums and a sprinkle of homemade olive oil granola that was just dropped off by my dear friend Lori? That is the other part of this equation: A lot of the food I’m eating these days has been gifted to me or cooked for me, to the point where every time I open the refrigerator it feels like fairies fly out into the kitchen. And so in that way, before I even take a bite, the food makes me feel nourished and amazing.

A lot more on that concept this Friday when, as promised, subscribers will receive “Eight Thousand Ways to Make Someone Sick Feel Well-Loved.” (Imagine starting every day with New York’s most extraordinary smoked salmon?) In the meantime, tell me: In what small way will you upgrade your dinner tonight?

2. No-Recipe Recipe: The Easiest Barbecue Chicken Sandwiches

I’m pretty sure there’s an official recipe for these in one of my earlier books — we used to make them all the time for the girls when they were young — but you don’t really need a recipe, they’re so simple and so good. Especially — I’ll say it again — when you use high-quality ingredients. Over the weekend, Andy picked up some chicken breasts from the farmer’s market down the road, along with local-bakery-made buns (who knew there was something as good as a Martin’s potato roll?), some cabbage and the freshest, most flavorful salad greens. For the sandwiches, he poached the chicken (I’d make one breast per diner) for 12-14 minutes in gently simmering salted water, then shredded the meat with two forks and tossed with just enough barbecue sauce to coat. (Use homemade or your favorite; we used a very special Tamarind Heads.) Heap onto the burger bun, top with some shredded cabbage, and serve with a green salad. Done and done.

3. Country People, by Daniel Mason

Something very exciting happened while I was away! Daniel Mason, author of North Woods — a book I know for a fact that you all love — came out with a new novel called Country People. I haven’t read it yet, but for the past few months I have been watching his editor (sorry) press it into the hands of everyone who has crossed our path. If you want something that is simply a joy in a moment when everything feels stressful and fraught, he keeps saying, this is the book for you. It follows the story of the charming but somewhat lost Miles Krzelewski who moves his family from California to Vermont after his wife accepts a professorship at a prestigious college. While he attempts to finish his long-delayed Ph.D, he gets entangled with an eccentric cast of local characters, and if you remember North Woods, you can just picture how great that sounds, right? PS: If my complete lack of objectivity here disturbs you: 1) RESPECT, that’s why I love you, and 2) Do your own due diligence with this review in The Guardian and this one in the Times.

Have a great week, thanks for being here.

Jenny

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“Exactly What I’ve Been Looking For! ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ These are exactly the kind of recipes I’ve been scouring the Internet for the last year. If you search ‘vegetarian dinners’ in Pinterest or Google, you mostly get recipes…that make vegetarianism seem like living in constant FOMO for real food. These recipes actually celebrate all the delicious vegetables we have available and seem just as indulgent and delicious as any other dinner. Plus timetables that I can handle on a weeknight. I see what a labor of love this book was, and I’m so grateful for it.” — Reviewer “M Kim” on my New York Times bestselling book The Weekday Vegetarians, shown here with its sequel The Weekday Vegetarians: Get Simple.