Food journalism from the ground up

[Fat Guy]

Russ Parsons, on another topic, was heard to say:

For me, the process of developing recipes and researching and writing stories is complicated and never seems to go the same way twice. Maybe if there's enough interest, someone will start a fresh thread, it seems like there are enough food writers who check in to make it interesting, even if they do tend to lurk quietly (and this means you, Paula Wolfert!).

Bring it on, people.

[russ parsons]

wow, that hit with a whopping thud. sorry i'm late to get this started, but the real world (rewrites) intervened. we'll see if anyone else picks up on this.

i do two basic kinds of stories: some that are story-driven (informational) and some that are recipe-driven (here's something I really like to cook). i'm lucky in that most of my stories come from my own ideas, as opposed to being assigned. that's not to say i'm a free agent. i work very closely with a very good editor, michalene busico, once i have the germ of an idea in order to refine it. and refine it. and refine it. at least that's the way it sometimes seems. sometimes the final story is a couple of degrees removed from the initial idea. but, i've found the final copy is almost always better than the rough draft, and as far as i'm concerned, no writer can ask for more than that.

recipes are another matter. though they are always tested in our kitchen, they are rarely changed much. partly this is because of my built-in editing crew: my wife and daughter and our friends. i have trained them to be very tough critics. if something needs salt, they tell me. if no amount of anything is going to fix a dish, they tell me that, too.

for information-driven stories, i think of the recipes as sidebars that serve to explicate and deepen the main piece. with recipe-driven stories (these tend to be columns), the process is reversed: the story is essentially giving background information, more complete instruction and explanation of the recipe. A good example of the differences are my last two stories: one on boutique marketing of beef, which didn't even have recipes, and this week's on softshell crabs, which was recipe-driven entirely.

where do the recipes come from? who knows? a lot of them come from going to markets and looking at what's available. sometimes they come from restaurant dishes, though not usually. a lot of them are sparked by looking at old cookbooks, something i do a lot. when i'm really stumped for an idea, i can usually get something going by reading a few favorites: olney's "simple french food," anything by de Pomiane, Patience Gray's "honey from a weed", helen brown's "west coast cookbook" or any of the chez panisse books. also, when i want to be reminded of how i want to be able to write a recipe someday, i look to judy rogers' "zuni cafe cookbook".

my criteria for recipes are pretty simple: first, they must be in fitting with the season (i do live in soutehrn california, where there are at least 5 farmers markets every day, so there's no excuse for otherwise). they must also fit with what i think of as my general aesthetic, which is basically looking for the most flavor for the least effort. that's not to say everything is a five-ingredient pasta dish, but that if a lot of effort or technique is called for there has to be a commensurate payoff.

anybody else?

[Fat Guy]

The two big categories for me are online and print.

Online: What I write online is determined primarily by what I find interesting. Most of what I write online is published in media controlled by me -- either on the Fat-Guy site or on eGullet. There are no editors in the traditional sense of the word. So the process is internal to me and the finished product reflects a true solo effort. Even when I was writing for Salon.com, back when Salon was Salon, there was almost zero editorial intervention beyond the story-idea-approval process. So in one sense online writing follows the most personal development track: I get an idea, I don't have to care if anybody else likes the idea, I write a draft, and I tinker with it until I like it (or I never publish it -- it's not like I have a deadline or a commitment to anyone). One thing that's interesting is that sometimes I'll go out with a query to print media, everyone will reject my idea, and I'll write it up for the Web anyway. On maybe a dozen occasions in the past few years, after I've published the piece online, someone in the print media has bought it -- and in a few of those cases it has been bought by those who initially rejected it.

Print: What I write in print is determined primarily by what I think other people will find interesting. I have to sell it, so it's not enough for it to be interesting to me. In terms of process, I'd subdivide my print experience into working with good editors, working with editors who don't do anything, and working with bad editors. Working with a good editor is a great experience, because a good editor helps you to express yourself as best you can -- it's not about interfering with your personal writing process but, rather, enhancing it. A good editor has already decided that you're a good writer, and isn't trying to change you -- just bring out the best in you. It's not hard to tell, when reading someone's writing, that a good editorial relationship was involved. I have no inside knowledge on this, but I can virtually guarantee you that Jeffrey Steingarten and Alan Richman have great relationships with their editors: they are clearly given the latitude and resources to develop their ideas in a very personal way, and I imagine someone is back there driving them to do their best. Unfortunately, I can count the number of really world-class editors I've worked with on the fingers of one hand (let's see: Kelly Alexander at Saveur, Alex Postman my current editor at Elle, Neal Kozodoy at Commentary, and I think that may be just about it), but I don't have enough digits and appendages to begin counting the number of editors I've worked with who have made my writing worse or have done nothing at all to improve anything.

[Wolfert]

For thirty years, I have been working within the culinary world of mother to daughter to grandaughter, women's knowledge, women's skills, women's secrets...women's power.

There are now vast changes in the parts of the Mediterranean where I usually work. (Not just the political situation.) There are still little pockets of women in black dresses, but they're harder and harder to find. And there is still a mother-to-daughter sharing-the-work world, but less than before. I was up in the mountains of Crete, and I saw daughters learning from their mothers. They continue the food traditions, but I had the feeling if those daughters could leave that town they would.

Maybe I should continue to romanticise this mother-to-daughter thing. It's a beautiful vision stuck in a time bubble---women learning from one another and sharing the food; where the recipes continue through the generations, and the wedding and ceremonies are communal. All that stuff takes place in the kitchen, the camarderie of women; sharing and understanding. I love that milieu. But the truth is their lives are hard.

It's easy for me. I love the people, I move in and help out, but I get to go home. Of course, it's really interesting, but do I want that life? no!

And then when I return I write articles, recipes, and finally collect the work in a book. I admit I romance the recipes. That is what I like to do. I want to tell the stories that set the food in place. For people to have fun cooking a recipe you publish, it has to be in some sort of context. So I provide stories: who ate this? why? what's the excitement? i structure all this around the recipe so the reader will share the adventure. Hopefully, she or he will want to make the dish.

Edited June 8, 2003 by Wolfert (log)

[Jinmyo]

Paula, that's very interesting.

While I don't like romanticism, I do appreciate the perspective brought to bear. It doesn't convey information as such but does unpack something of cultural and personal contexts.

[Wolfert]

I think of myself as a cook first. On the weekend or when I have time there's such pleasure in cooking something special. The recipes I bring home to cook I consider adventures. And then there's the adventure of the ingredient, the new spice, the new grain. There's the adventure of the new pot.

[Jinmyo]

And then there's the adventure of the ingredient, the new spice, the new grain. There's the adventure of the new pot.

Very true, Paula. It all unfolds such generosity if we are willing to find out what the possibilities are.

My current adventure is to newly explore something I thought I knew well: kimchi. There are actually dozens of kimchi just involving daikon. As the seasons roll on and ingredients become available, the Days of Wonder are upon me.*

----

*I like to romanticize but with hyperbole. Sincere hyperbole though.

[Steve Klc]

In that time, Paula, has the journalistic aspect of your work changed much? Are you in a position now that you can write pretty much exactly what you want, how you want to, and have the confidence knowing someone will buy it? Or has your process, which does sound terribly romantic, had to evolve since you first were published? Have you had supportive relationships with editors?

And would you mind sharing--very very generally--how much of your income is derived from books vs. print articles vs appearances and classes? And has that percentage changed at all as your career has evolved? I suspect that's been an adventure as well but don't want to assume.

[Wolfert]

And then there's the adventure of the ingredient, the new spice, the new grain. There's the adventure of the new pot.

Very true, Paula. It all unfolds such generosity if we are willing to find out what the possibilities are.

My current adventure is to newly explore something I thought I knew well: kimchi. There are actually dozens of kimchi just involving daikon. As the seasons roll on and ingredients become available, the Days of Wonder are upon me.*

----

*I like to romanticize but with hyperbole. Sincere hyperbole though.

Your discoveries with kimchi reminds me of what Ansel Adams said "the negative is comparable to the composer's score and the print to its performance. Each performance differs in subtle ways." If a recipe is the score, then your adventures (prints) with kimchi have so many possibilities.

Edited June 8, 2003 by Wolfert (log)

[Wolfert]

In that time, Paula, has the journalistic aspect of your work changed much?  Are you in a position now that you can write pretty much exactly what you want, how you want to, and have the confidence knowing someone will buy it?  Or has your process, which does sound terribly romantic, had to evolve since you first were published?  Have you had supportive relationships with editors?

And would you mind sharing--very very generally--how much of your income is derived from books vs. print articles vs appearances and classes?  And has that percentage changed at all as your career has evolved?  I suspect that's been an adventure as well but don't want to assume.

I am very lucky to have had Fran McCullough as editor on two of my early books. She couldn't have been more enthusiastic . The first book I did with her on Moroccan cooking came out in 1973. She didn't pay me much and it didn't make waves nor money for years. Happily, Harper kept it in print and I finally started seeing royalities about a dozen years ago. It is still in print!

My choices in stories, recipes and book ideas have been picky and personal, moderated by my experiences. I have written and will write only about food I like to cook and eat.

Income from my column in Food & Wine, cooking classes, and a book advance varies from year to year. Honestly, it is almost impossible to make a living as a food writer.

It helps to have a supportive partner.

Edited June 8, 2003 by Wolfert (log)

[TPO]

Sometimes I think about how great it would be to have a fascinating article assigned to me, and have my writing read in beautiful full-color magazines or newspapers with circulations in the hundred thousands. But for now, I enjoy writing my recipe-driven newspaper column.

I have no one editing my work (although if I were to change from its format, I'd risk being dropped by newspapers) and I am free to write about whatever I want as long as the recipes are relatively easy and made from ingredients found at most supermarkets. I pick a theme -- an ingredient, appliance, holiday, etc. -- and develop one or two recipes to go with that theme as well as a beginning to the article and some relevant tips.

It's a lot of fun. Although writing for a smaller market means less money, it has the reward of regular readers who often drop me emails just to chat or share recipes.

[skchai]

Whew! Don't have an immediate comments/questions, but just wanted to thank Russ, Steven, Paula, and everyone else for their detailed, informative and generous responses to my original inquiry (on another thread). It's just another example of the magic (!?) of egullet.

[msp]

I make a living, supporting two children, from food writing. I don't always get to write about topics that thrill me to the core, or develop recipes that I love. But sometimes, I get to do both. And that's what keeps me going.

Story ideas may come from me-- in which case I talk to the editor whose readers I think will be the best fit for the topic. Understanding a publications' reader gives me a better starting point in my relationship with the editor, and makes the editing process run more smoothly (most of the time).

Editors also come to me with story ideas. On rare occasionas, I will turn a story down because it is not a good fit with my expertise/style/interest/belief system. But most of the time, I learn as I write and develop the editors' idea.

I've had great editors who make me a better writer and editors who make me feel ashamed, after they've hacked away, that a story still carries my by-line. I've published pieces where not one word is changed, and pieces that are greatly re-worked. (Recipes, in my experience, are rarely changed).

Every story has it's own story, and that-- along with a never-ending supply of subjects-- what keeps food writing always interesting.

Edited June 8, 2003 by msp (log)

[russ parsons]

Every story has it's own story, and that-- along with a never-ending supply of subjects-- what keeps food writing always interesting.

i loved that line. without getting all deconstructionist, it reminds me of how sometimes i'll be looking at an old story of mine, and what comes to mind isn't anything about the story itself, but something that happened during the researching or writing of it.

and then there are all those times i get calls or letters about a story that someone read in their local paper that i can't even remember writing. the miracles of computer databases, where things you said two years ago, people think you just said today.

[Fat Guy]

I wouldn't say food writing is always interesting. My choices as a food writer are about striking a balance between work that pays and work that's interesting. Not that all the best-paying work is dull, but often the relationship is an inverse one -- that's why guys like Steingarten and Richman are so lucky: they get to write interesting stuff at the top of the payscale. The few things I write that pay in the neighborhood of what GQ or Vogue pay per word (not that Steingarten and Richman get paid by the word -- their employers would go broke!) tend to be intellectually unrewarding. I've also made good money doing stuff like catalog copy, not to mention short, dumb restaurant "reviews" soleley for the purpose of getting the meals paid for. Whereas, much of my most rewarding work has been what I've done online (100% subsidized by my paying work) and in, for example, Commentary, where I assure you the compensation is so minimal as to be a non-issue.

[russ parsons]

yeah, but the great thing about writing is, even if the topic isn't the greatest, the writing of it--the actual manipulation of the words--is always interesting. i hate to get all norma desmond on your ass, but sometimes it's not the stories that have gotten smaller...

[msp]

And I believe that the longer you're at it, the more you're able to balance the poor paying and extremely rewarding works with the more lucrative less stimulating ones. But I agree with Russ...sometimes, the very act of making a humdrum topic interesting through good writing is reward enough. ('Though never when i'm sweating blood to do so)

And when you're at it a good long time, then you get paid enough for the juicy stuff, and do the other that much less. I figure when I'm 90, maybe...or at least when my kids have graduated college (just shy of 90)