How to become a food writer in 2009

I get queries every few weeks, either in the form of Facebook messages or during a panel discussion I'm participating in, from people who'd like the opportunity to write about food for a living. It humbles me that I have been given the opportunity to do this and reminds me not to take it (all of it: the job, the blog, the column, the Twitter following, the food writing/blogging community that supports each other) for granted.

Here's what I told one aspiring food writer today:

So here's what I'd have to say about food writing. First of all, you're without a doubt off to a good start with the blog. I think it's already an above average blog, so just keep it up, cultivating your readers through comments (leave comments as often as you can on others' blogs and respond to those on yours), twitter, facebook, etc.

I'd just try to get a job anywhere right now, and when you get there, bring (or cultivate) social media in the newsroom. If you end up with a job doing PR or community relations for a food company or nonprofit (which is actually a great place to start), you can do the same thing. The idea is to just get as involved in the community you're working for/with. Use facebook and twitter for both personal and professional and give more than you get. Check out GaryVaynerchuk.com, and be inspired.

I love blogging. It waxes and wanes, but just embrace that as part of the experience. Start tracking your readers. Use a Google Reader to read/skim as many food blogs as you can (you'll find lots of inspiration there). The food job kind of found me (the old writer retired; I optimistically applied and convinced them that my tech know-how would benefit the newspaper tremendously. The gamble has paid off for both my editors and me.), so keep your mind open for unique opportunities that might not have to do with food, but that have an environment you could flourish in.

Hope this helps! Says GaryV, whose Wine Library TV has revolutionized food/wine video blogging and online personal branding, there's a lot of money to be made in this economy, you just have to hustle.

Holiday cheer and a happy boy

(If no pictures show up, then you either need to log in to Flickr or become a contact on Flickr.)

November and December have been a whirlwind. From planning and executing more than a dozen holiday-related stories, columns, live chats, blogs and events at work to moving from our old apartment a mere 85 steps to a duplex, which now seems like world away from our old home.

Julian has been helping more in the kitchen, peeling onions and putting things in the pot. He's developed quite the sweet tooth; he usually wakes up in the morning and goes to the freezer, asking politely for ice cream. After the move, Julian got a table and chairs, an easel, a rocker and his very own rug. He got to play with markers and the easel for awhile, until ripping out the ink-saturated tips was more fun than coloring with them. We also put the bars on his crib back on after a week of trying out the toddler bed, and we're all sleeping much better because of it.

We're going to Missouri the day after Christmas, but until then, I have a few last minute things to wrap up at work, including a column about what I'm looking forward to in 2009, which inevitably means I'll have to reflect on 2008. I thought that deluge of holiday food coverage would make me weary this far into the season, but it's quite the opposite. So far, this has been one of the best Decembers I can remember. Lots of good times and fun people. A happy family. Oh yes, and good food.

Eat, Memory, Garlic

Eat, Memory: The Sixth Sense

By GARY SHTEYNGART
Published: October 9, 2005

Growing up I dreamed of garlic the way some dream of bright city lights. I had smelled the forbidden vegetable (spice? herb?) during brief trips to Manhattan, roasted garlic coating the poorer sections of town, clinging to the peeling fire escapes, pouring down the tenement stoops to sucker-punch me in the nose, my 10-year-old mind reeling with flavor and summertime heat and the still inchoate idea that sex could somehow be linked with the digestive process (cf. "Seinfeld").

Read the rest here...

(I can see it now, a not-too-bald George (Jason Alexander) crawling out from under the ravenous bedsheet activities to get a bite of a sandwich he's hidden in the bedside stand.)

I read this food column in "Eat, Memory," a compilation of essays published in the New York Times Magazine under the editing of Amanda Hesser, the longtime Times food editor who is coming to the Texas Book Festival early next month.

The writing in this book is taking me back to Jacqui Banaszynski's class -- the last time I can remember my writing being so closely scrutinized -- where we had to sum up our stories and the stories we analyzed in one single solitary word.

In the exercises in her class, we had to get past that we were writing about dessert, for example, to realize our words more precisely represented tradition, comfort or adventure.

In this article, it's lust or maybe passion. But is this article by Tom Perrotta about finickiness or outright control? Is lying to your diners to preserve your perceived originality more about ego or pride?

Of course, we won't all agree, because the meaning we find says more about ourselves than the author's intention, but it's a fun game to play, especially when we're talking about food.

Cheesemania without a single curds and whey joke!

Lots been happenin' at work in the past few weeks, including several how-to videos you can find on the statesman's multimedia page. A column about making cheese, butter and yogurt is in tomorrow's paper, and the above video goes with it online.

My favorite line? "I got some whey in my mouth. Mmmm" (The part of me dropping the big curd ball and splashing whey everywhere got cut.)

Birthdays and cupcakes

My dear friend Meghan celebrated a birthday just a few days after mine, and we had a cupcake party! Julian had an awesome time, and I took this accidental (and awesome, despite the phone camera quality) feet picture! You can see how creative we got with the cupcake decorating!

A late night snack

I was putting Julian to bed tonight, and he kept signing "eat." So I open the fridge, ready to allow him a food free-for-all, but he didn't want anything. I did the same with the pantry, but the kid kept signing for more food.

As a last ditch effort, I made a peanut butter sandwich and served it with applesauce. He loved it in his dreary I-shoulda-been-asleep-an-hour-ago state.

He throws in a shout-out to his dad, who deserves one today. He's the hardest working stay-at-home-dad and we love him immensely. Thank you, Ian.

Plus, Julian wanted to wish you good night.

Wish you could be on 'Top Chef'?

If you can't get on the show, you can always bring 'Top Chef' home:

FOOD & DRINK

'Top Chef' comes home

For tonight's finale, this group plans to cook Polish food

By Addie Broyles
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Up-and-coming chefs try to whip up fabulous (but sometimes mediocre) meals to impress models, journalists, restaurateurs and celebrity chefs on Bravo TV's hit reality show "Top Chef."

Some Austin friends who meet each Wednesday night for their own "Top Chef"-style competition and watch party just want to impress one another and earn a few bragging rights.

Robin and Tom Gerrow started hosting these "Top Chef" parties for their foodie friends several months ago when the fourth season started. The season ends tonight with "cheftestants" Lisa Fernandes, Richard Blais and Stephanie Izard vying for the $100,000 prize.

The Gerrows had enjoyed watching "Top Chef" with their friends for several seasons, and while watching the finale last season one of them had the idea that they should host their own cooking competition before the show started each week.

Continue reading...

What it's like to be a food writer, so far

I haven't written much about the new job, well, because I've been writing a lot at the new job. Stories, yet, but you wouldn't believe how many keystrokes go to blogging and e-mails alone. I do love me some technology, however, and have jumped on the Twitter bandwagon (broylesa is my name, so have a look and see what you think.) and have been trying to blog like crazy over at Relish Austin. By doing it regularly, I'm hoping to get some readers and get myself used to that blend of work/personal, laid back/professional. It's a tricky balance right now, but I'm working on it.

Since getting back from my road trip last week with Gary Vaynerchuk, I've been booking it on some stories and trying to keep my head above water with e-mails, possible stories, contacts and reader feedback.

The e-mails are mostly from PR folks wanting me to check out a new product, Web site, cookbook or strange berry from South America that will lower my risk of cancer. Some reader mail, which is always fun to reply to. (Only one or two nasty ones, a pretty good record I'd say, seeing as how people take their pie pretty seriously in Texas.) Not too many comments on the blog still...(hint hint and thanks to those who have)

Oh and the snail mail and packages. Even before I started my job officially, I was getting tons of promotional items from companies hoping I'll write about their product. I've received everything from charcoal to spices to a block of Parmesan cheese. And don't forget the books. It's easy to get buried beneath the piles of books, on subjects ranging from cupcake decorating to kosher meals to the best clam shacks in Massachusetts. I donated a bunch to the company book sale earlier this week, the profits of which go to charity. I've held a few back for reference and taken a few home to try.

Speaking of the blog, the "What's in Your Fridge Friday" feature I'm really excited about. I've already lined up a couple of great locals (a hip hop artist/VJ and a nationally renown author) for the next few weeks, so give it a look. And send me a photo of your fridge :).

I'm also going to start a monthly meetup, where I get together with whoever the heck wants to at some random place in town to get to know folks and talk about anything remotely related to food. Appetizers with Addie. I'll launch it this week, probably to take place the week after next. Where should we go? The Ginger Man? Jovitas? Some place up north I don't know about yet?

It's weird being around food (and everything food-related) all day and simultaneously thinking about your own food needs and likes and dislikes. I've already learned that going to our weekly food meeting leaves my stomach painfully grumbling after it's over. Hearing Dale Rice talk about his recent trip to China and all the good food he ate and learned to cook, or listening to our designer regal us with stories of her garden's bounty.

I got caught eating a cup of instant noodles (I was in a pinch, promise!) when I first started, but around the holidays, I'm sure I'll be able to sustain myself on office food alone. Haven't gained any weight — so far.

I've received some new products I thought would taste great but that actually tasted horrible (olive oil, certain trail mixes) and some products I thought would be gag-worthy but that were actually pretty good (cocoa almonds).

Just shows you can't judge a food by anything but its taste.

Millions of peaches

Here's a taste of this week's Relish Austin column on peaches...

Cobbler, schmobbler.
For me, a pie is just peachy

By Addie Broyles
AMERICAN-STATESMAN STAFF
Tuesday, June 03, 2008

Think of fresh Hill Country peaches, and you can almost feel the juice trickling down your chin.

Well, grab some napkins, 'cause peaches are here.

The first batch popped up at local farmers' markets several weeks ago, but June marks the height of the season in Central Texas, specifically Gillespie County, where about a third of the state's peaches are grown....

Now, what to do with those heavenly peaches? Jams, cobblers and even smoothies are grand, but for me it's all about the pie. And I promise this column won't be just all stories of my grandmother's incredible cooking, but it would be baking betrayal not to share her peach pie recipe.

This is my favorite of her pies, and she always makes one for me when I visit my hometown, but I'd never seen her actually put the thing together.

So when my grandmother and mother were both in town last week, we made a pie using fresh peaches I bought from a roadside farm stand in Oak Hill.

My grandmother Carolyn Cook started by sifting the flour for her never-fail pie crust, which uses shortening instead of butter, while my mom and I peeled and sliced a large basket of peaches.

"You know, I don't do this at home," my grandmother said of the exact measuring. "I've always done it by guess and by gosh. Hardly anybody measured anything back then."

Despite, or perhaps because of, the exact measuring, this particular pie crust didn't turn out exactly as she'd hoped. After she rolled out the dough circles, they fell apart when she picked them up to assemble the pie. Like a true cook, she didn't throw her hands up in despair, but instead pieced the dough back together like a puzzle for both the bottom and top crusts.

As for the filling, the smaller peaches I'd bought added up on the shy end of the 4 cups required for the filling, so my grandmother added a half cup of blackberries and raspberries, which added a nice color and tartness to the final pie.

With this improvisational attitude, she can use this same recipe to make just about any fruit pie, just as long as the total amount of fruit equals about 4 cups and the amount of sugar is adjusted to taste.

The pie went in the oven for about an hour, and when it came out, it might not have looked flawless, but it sure tasted that way.

I don't know about you, but I prefer a pieced-together pie crust that is savory, light and flaky than one that looks perfect but tastes like it came out of a freezer.

It's the same way with peaches themselves. The small, dark, less-than-perfectly round ones we used for this pie were much tastier than the picture-perfect peaches I bought at the grocery store earlier this year.

Perfection, just as in life, isn't the goal in the kitchen.

And that's the great thing about a good pie. Unless you burn it, there's little you can do to it that a good dollop of ice cream can't fix.

Are Texas tomatoes safe to eat?

Check out my first news story for the paper, about the salmonella outbreak that's linked to tomatoes and more than 80 reported cases in 11 states.

New Orleans!

We made it to New Orleans! The first night, we stayed in Lafayette, slept in like honeymooners without their kiddo (til nearly 11!), then headed into the Big Easy. I was surprised at how big city New Orleans is. The downtown is taller and more interesting than Austin's. The waterfront is OK, and the French Quarter is definitely cool. We're at the Olivier Hotel, a block off Bourbon, which I've realized is what Sixth Street is striving to be. Too bad New Orleans has the drink-in-the-street law, plus you can drink until you decide to stop, not until the bars all shut down simultaneously.

Well, what about the music on Sixth Street? We saw two incredible jazz bands last night, and the rest seemed to be cover bands, which isn't much different than Sixth. Downtown Austin does have better options for a variety of music and food, the latter of which we're going to explore here in New Orleans more today.

We ate at this Charter House place in the French Quarter. The crawfish cakes and muffaletta were pretty good, and they were better than the Acme Oyster House, which we were lured in to by the name and the fact that it was on all our maps. There's nothing that sucks more when you're traveling than getting all hyped up about a place because it has the appearance of being really great, only to get stuck with stale bread and tasteless oysters. Ah, well. More yumminess is ahead for us, I just know it.

Off to Cafe du Monde!

Here we go...

So many fun things to share today!

First, my debut as food writer for the Austin American-Statesman. I couldn't be more proud (and excited and nervous and giddy and all the other things you feel as the plane first lifts off the ground, heading toward somewhere you've never been). So far, I've met only wonderful people, like the people in my first lede story about the Austin Discovery School where students do most of their learning outside, in gardens. In my first column, I rekindled a memory of nearly burning down our apartment in Alicante, Spain, that was probably best left forgotten. The Relish Austin blog is up and running, with a couple of posts to greet you and, if I stay good on my word, daily posts on the weekdays after that (breaking food news notwithstanding).

Second exciting thing: I have some candidates for a wedding dress! I went on an exhausting shopping trip for both the Ian man and me, while he stayed at home to watch the kid. (It was a fair trade, I promise.) I spent something like 3 hours trying to channel my inner Stacy and Clinton to find the perfect stylish dress (not white, not frumpy, not long) and something equally fabulous for Ian. I ended up at the Armani Exchange (what? I've never shopped there in my life.) and found killer (and not that expensive) shirts and jeans for him and an awesome dress that I know Ms. London and Ms. Klum would approve of. We'll see if it's the winning number.

Third fantastic moment of my day: Julian has these berry/nuts that he collects outside, and when we come inside, he refuses to let go of them.

Today, we let him win.

See what fun he found.

Toys? Who needs toys?

Luscious loquats

Loquats are ripening around town. When I first saw the clusters of bright orange, egg-shaped fruit on trees in Austin, I could hardly believe it. We'd eaten nisperos by the kilos in Spain, but I'd never seen or heard of an equivalent in my own language, on my own terrior, to borrow a wine term I've been around lately. It's those Texas winemakers who've pointed out to me lately how similar Texas growing conditions are to Spain's. The heat, the infrequent, unpredictable rain, the lack of deep, hard freezes. So it was in Austin where I first plucked a loquat/nispero off a neighborhood tree. The city-grown ones are much smaller and more tart than the ones we used to get for cents on the pound at the biweekly outdoor produce market in Alicante, but they are a bittersweet reminder of those beloved days abroad.

Julian got to try a loquat today and he proceeded to drop it off the porch and return to his uvas. Yep, it's official. Julian has a Spanish word. Since "uva" is easier to say than "raisin," we used the Spanish word with him — well, technically, pasas are raisins and uvas are grapes, but I'll explain that to him in Spanish 2 — and sometime in the past few days, he took to it. I've been doing the same thing with fresa (strawberry). I think Ian uses ami (friend), one of the French words he remembers from Canada, with Julian. Call it smorgasbord language education if you like, but I'm OK if he combines different languages and signs to communicate even if it means fewer words overall for a little while.

Another fun new thing that I forgot to post about was that Julian drank out of the hose the other day at Tom's. He was exploring the yard and was extra curious about the hose and spicket. So I turned on the water and his first instinct was to put his mouth in the fresh cold stream for a sip. Then he shared with his oh-so-proud mommy, soaking us both.

Get this, there was a San Francisco band called Loquat at SXSW this year. They're not half bad.

Orange I happy?

I guess the phrase "when it rains it pours" can apply to both good and bad events in life. The Knox-Broyles house happens to be in a harvest time right now, and don't doubt for a minute we're not thanking the universe with every grain of our beings...

I'm going to be the new food writer at the Statesman! All this WNTW stuff really allowed me to flex my media and writing muscles, and so when the opportunity arose to apply for this position, which is most definitely what I could consider a dream job, I couldn't help but take it. Not only am I thrilled to be writing about food, I'm on cloud nine to be thinking about generating content rather than editing it. I feel like I have so many ideas and so many ways of telling stories that are just bottled up inside me right now. This blog has been the only outlet for some of it. Of course, I'm a little nervous about all the changes this job will entail (goodbye, long, lazy days with Julian and Ian; farewell, the pleasure of leaving work behind when I leave the building), but I can't wait to resume what I fell in love with so long ago: using words and images to tell people's stories.

I don't start officially until the end of April, but I imagine there will be lots of planning and preparing that will be done in the meantime. I can't tell you how exciting this is for me, Ian and Julian. We're in the midst of a lot of change right now, but everyone is handling it tremendously. And there's no way I could take on this job without Ian's support.

:) I feel like the luckiest girl in the world...

The good, the funny, the ugly

A few things from the past few days:

The good:

Musician Marketa Irglova's acceptance speech Sunday for winning an Oscar for best song. She and Glen Hansard accepted the award for "Falling Slowly" from the movie "Once."

Hi everyone. I just want to thank you so much. This is such a big deal, not only for us, but for all other independent musicians and artists that spend most of their time struggling, and this, the fact that we're standing here tonight, the fact that we're able to hold this, it's just to prove no matter how far out your dreams are, it's possible. And, you know, fair play to those who dare to dream and don't give up. And this song was written from a perspective of hope, and hope at the end of the day connects us all, no matter how different we are. And so thank you so much, who helped us along way. Thank you.

The funny:



The ugly:

Texas Gov. Rick Perry was interviewed by Deborah Solomon of the New York Times Magazine this week. I'm not allowed to make comments on politics here, thus the text of the previous post removed, per ethics policy at work, but I will provide you a snippet of the interview.

Let’s talk about your new book, “On My Honor,” which draws on your experience as an Eagle Scout and champions the values of the Boy Scouts of America, to whom you are donating your royalties.

Yes, to their legal-defense fund.

Which has been fighting the A.C.L.U., to keep gays out of the scouts. Why do you see that as a worthy cause?

I am pretty clear about this one. Scouting ought to be about building character, not about sex. Period. Precious few parents enroll their boys in the Scouts to get a crash course in sexual orientation.

Why do you think a homosexual would be more likely to bring the subject of sex into a conversation than a heterosexual?

Well, the ban in scouting applies to scout leaders. When you have a clearly open homosexual scout leader, the scouts are going to talk about it. And they’re not there to learn about that. They’re there to learn about what it means to be loyal and trustworthy and thrifty.

But don’t you think that homosexuals might also be interested in being loyal and thrifty?

The argument that gets made is that homosexuality is about sex. Do you agree?

No.

Well, then why don’t they call it something else?

Did you know that there are no term limits for governor in Texas?

Milk fever

(Photo by pankaspe)

Even though it's still a few days until Julian's real birthday, we took him to the pediatrician for his 12-month well-check. All good news, we're happy to report. He's still a little guy. Just at 19 pounds and a shorty. He's in the lowest 5 percent of weight and height, but our doctor wasn't too concerned. Mainly because he's pretty much on the go all day long. It's a rarity if he sits still to eat an entire meal, much less to play. So the combination of burning all those calories and not having the patience to eat more than a handful or two of food makes for a tiny baby.

(Oh, and don't forget the never-ending battle between Shiva and me to keep her from eating all his food. I'll give him, say, a cheese quesadilla, and before he's walked out of the kitchen, Shiva's sniffing it out, seeing what he's got. She won't snatch it right out of his hand unless offered, but he thinks it's a fun game to reach his hand out and watch her take whatever he's got (chicken, bread, even raisins) out of his little fist. This, admittedly, is probably why he's not gaining as much weight as he should.)

Now that he's a year old, we can start giving him milk besides mine. He's been eating cheese and yogurt for awhile, but he hadn't had straight cow's milk until today. He scrunched his nose at first and turned away, but the second time, after he saw mommy enjoy a big ol' glass of the white stuff with her homemade chicken and rice soup (yum!), he lapped it up. I have a feeling this calorie-rich goodness will be Ian's lifesaver when I'm in New York to help him get back to sleep at 6 a.m.

I bought organic milk for the first time the other day, and I could be a convert. I should be a convert, I know, but it's nearly twice as expensive as the regular. But damn, it's so tasty. Really, the taste difference is amazing. It's much sweeter and richer. Is it worth the cost? I'm sure it is, but part of me pulls out the old, "well, if it was good enough for me" line. But I don't think back then (oh, way back then in the '90s, you know:P) they were putting quite the hormones they do now in milk.

I remember the days when I was a kid when I'd drink like half a gallon of the stuff a day. Milk fever, my dad called it. He suffered from it, too. That insatiable thirst for something that, biologically, doesn't make much sense. We're the only mammals who drink another animal's milk, or any milk for that matter, past infanthood. It's weird when you really think about it. So maybe I won't think about it and I'll just suck it up and buy the best milk I can. And, in moments like these, after I pull some oatmeal raisin cookies out of the oven, let the milk fever return.