Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Ruthie's Table four is now on YouTube.
Speaker 2 (00:02):
To watch this episode and others, just visit Ruthy's Table
four dot com forward Slash YouTube.
Speaker 1 (00:08):
You're listening to Ruthie's Table four in collaboration with me
and m Intelligence style for busy women in this world,
we need best friends. Hilton Alls, writer critic curator, is
a best friend of two of my best friends, Katie
Robin and Gordon Vanderklausen, directors of the Michael Verner Gallery,
(00:33):
where Hilton curated the show Postures Jean Reese in the
Modern World. Last night at the opening, I saw him
from a distance, a beautiful figure in an enveloping and
elegant white linen suit. The past few days have been
spent rereading his articles in The New Yorker, listening to
(00:53):
his beautiful eulogy for Joan Didion, and taking his books
The Women, White Girls from my bookshelf, keeping Pin up
his book about Prince next to my bed. Today we're
finally together around a table in the river Kefel. I
often say that every table has a story to tell.
That's what we're going to do today. Hilton and I
(01:15):
best friends already.
Speaker 2 (01:19):
So what a tribute? Wow? Who done.
Speaker 1 (01:27):
What we could also do is we could start. We
love listening to people read a recipe in any way
they want, and they choose a recipe from one of
our books. And so I think that you chose over
Soul with Marjoram. And one of the first things you
said to me yesterday when I said you was that
you said you'd love fresh margin. Yes, I thought you
(01:49):
might have chosen it because you love the soul, but
you love I.
Speaker 2 (01:52):
Love them both, but I have a it's an element
that's not used nearly enough, I feel, and then whenever
I get it, I'm always surprised. So I was so
thrilled to see it in your beautiful book.
Speaker 1 (02:05):
Here's the recipe, okay. And also fish is very difficult
to cook it.
Speaker 2 (02:12):
Yeah, yeah, no, I'm just I'm way too old. I
leave that to why Cluff and to bad Bunny. Okay.
Dover soal with capers and marshroom. Two tablespoons salted capers,
rinsed extra virgin olive oil, a bunch of fresh marsroom leaves,
(02:35):
four whole dover soil, scaled and cleaned, one lemon cut
in half. Preheat the oven to two hundred and thirty
degrees celsius. Brush a large flat oven tray with extra
virgin olive oil. Scatter half of the marsroom leaves over
the tray with sea salt and black pepper. Place the
(02:57):
fish on top, side by side. Season then scatter the
remain remaining margaram and the capers over. Drizzle with olive oil.
Baked for fifteen to twenty minutes. Tests with the point
of a sharp knife inserted into the thickest part of
the soul. If cooked, the flesh should come away from
(03:20):
the bone. Squeeze the lemon over the fish, and served
with juices.
Speaker 1 (03:25):
Simple.
Speaker 2 (03:25):
It's very simple. But you know I.
Speaker 1 (03:27):
Find all the recipes, So the margroom was what drew you.
Speaker 2 (03:32):
Also it was also I think fish is difficult to handle,
and this recipe made gave me more confidence about cooking
dover soil at home. Gave me a lot more confidence.
Speaker 1 (03:45):
Confidence is what we need.
Speaker 2 (03:47):
And also, yeah, because if you have confidence, then your
imagination can.
Speaker 1 (03:50):
Yeah, I would say that about I learned to cook
through the Art of Mastering French Cooking by Julia Child.
And she never said to take a ripey juicy tomato
and squeeze it. She said take a tomato that was
four centimeters across or six inches across, and was two
centime to tie and cut it. One sent to me
to think whatever it was, so it was like a science,
I would say, recipes like poetry and science. But she
(04:13):
made it so clear that you never had a failure,
and that gave you the confidence that's right, then you know,
throw the cookbook away and find that.
Speaker 2 (04:21):
Jesus, do you think I think that. I think that
if you have the if you have the fundamentals down,
then you're able to invent. So when I read this
and I said, oh wow, I never knew that I
would put the leaves down with the oil and salt
so that there's a bed. Yeah, And it was just
(04:41):
so it freed me to go to the store when
I get back to New York and buy some soul
and say, oh, I want to try this, because the
great thing about the book too, is that it frees
you to improvise.
Speaker 1 (04:56):
Would you say that's true of any discipline, that you
you know the rigor of the technique and then you
can be free. Would you say that.
Speaker 2 (05:06):
I would? I would bet I would stake my life
on it. Really that once you have the fundamentals of anything.
Then you're able to soar because you don't have to
think about technique. That's the issue for a lot of
writers and artists is that they get sort of embroiled
in the technique of something as opposed to the breath
(05:29):
of something. One of the things that I always tell
students and writers and actors share this. I always the
question is what is the hardest thing to do? And
they say often some people say, you know, structure or whatever,
and I said, no, Nope, the hardest thing is to relax,
(05:52):
relax enough to sit down and to start to play
with the language. When an actor it's free as when
they can relax and it's not a crew of people,
it's just you and we're talking. And so the technique
part of it has to go out of the way.
(06:13):
You have to forget it in order to live much
more fully in the moment of the writing or the
acting or the podcast or whatever.
Speaker 1 (06:22):
But do you think the reverse. Then it's also true
that if you don't have you had writers who have
the freedom but don't have the technique to get rid of.
Speaker 2 (06:30):
What happens, then mostly they're beat poets. But oh, there's
wonderful you know that wonderful Truman Capodi comment. He was
very young and on a television program and he said
(06:50):
the beat writers. Carawat came up and he said, that's
not writing, that's typing. And there's a big difference. Right,
A lot of people, as they're discovering their voices as writers,
are just typing. So when I'm just typing, my editor,
(07:10):
Deborah Treaseman is the fiction editor of The New Yorker,
is very wise, and she'll put a little note in saying,
you're just writing. Here, you writing, You're not saying the thing.
Speaker 1 (07:23):
Do you think the same is true of an artist
like Pollock or an abstract expressionist? Thank you, because I
always enjoy when I see that the drawings of an
artist who's I've just seen their paintings and then you
see the way that you know, whether it's Rothko and
his the way he drew a figure is always very
(07:43):
interesting to see that.
Speaker 2 (07:44):
I tend to trust artists who can draw. Actually, I
was telling Gordon this the other day. There's not one
artist in our show who does know how to draw,
And the fundamental strength of that is that it's they
know how to deal with intimacy. A painting a big
(08:06):
painting or medium sized painting can be a show, a
display of relaxation, technique, a lot of things at once.
But a drawing is really you. It's a form of writing.
And if they can draw, they can conquer the world. Really,
because they have the intimacy, they have the technique, they
(08:28):
have the relaxation, they have the imagination. It all comes
together in the smaller universe that they're creating.
Speaker 1 (08:36):
Well, then maybe should talk more than about the show,
because I thought, I saw those two Pacabia drawings and
I thought, you know, just so everything the photographs and
how compelling walking in I really urge anyone who is
listening to this wherever you are, to get on a
plane or a boat.
Speaker 2 (08:59):
Meet you.
Speaker 1 (09:00):
I meet her there and Bert I was very compelled
by the first slide show. I didn't go upstairs first,
Yes and podcasts. This made me very, very I was
a very emotional, wonderful thing of what have we done?
And then to the dignity and the elegance from the
(09:21):
small shock of the architecture to the way the women
were dressed.
Speaker 2 (09:26):
It's a it's a profound relationship to women of color.
Throughout her life and in her writing that was again
something that was very important for me to explore. So
we have wonderful artists Sommer Critchlow, who has given us
those beautiful drawings near the paccapias that you've seen. This show.
(09:48):
To me, even though there are big works in it,
everything feels so intimate to me in terms of what
is able to to cultivate this atmosphere Jamaica and Kaid,
who's the great antigue and American novelist, said that she
was the mother of us all gene and so it
was important for me to end the show with the
(10:12):
writers who have meant a great deal. So Nipaul is
one of the first people to write about her. A
lot of almost all the writing about her, they all
talk about, I think, the ways in which she freed
them as artists, so that this question that you brought
(10:34):
up earlier about technique and freedom she gave them. She
opened the door to talk about the Caribbean and to
talk about displacement and to talk about and use your
imagination about the place that you're from, which can often
feel like it's kind of separate from the rest of
(10:54):
the world. Right people go to Caribbean for vacation or whatever,
and then they go back to their unquote real loss.
I think someone like Jamaica, who's written powerfully about that
relationship of tourism in her book A Small Place, is
on the side of us understanding the ways in which
this literature of the Caribbean has great meaning and value.
(11:18):
So Derek Walcott, his great poem Jen Reese, is in
the show. And Carol Phillips cass Phillips has written a
novel about her returning to Dominica. So there's this way
in which she is claimed by the very people she
was forbidden to know in a racially structured environment. And
(11:42):
isn't it amazing that it's ended up? Yeah?
Speaker 1 (11:54):
Tell us about growing up in your house. What did
your mother?
Speaker 2 (11:59):
Yes? What she could?
Speaker 1 (12:01):
And I was also very moved by your mother because great,
how you wish that she could have lived long enough
so that you could take care I thought that was
something that we through food and through cooking. Oh my god,
we take care of each other.
Speaker 2 (12:16):
Oh my goodness, is that part of your childhood? So
as we got older, she would try to experiments. Yeah,
and she made it. She she tried to make a
beef burger.
Speaker 1 (12:31):
You know, that's a hard thing to make, and.
Speaker 2 (12:36):
My mother didn't drink or anything. There you go and
it's too much, and then it's rancid right when you're
when you cook it, it becomes vinegar basically in a way.
And yes and my brother not looking at each other,
(12:56):
and she's like, oh, isn't she's pretending that it's delicious.
And from her I understood that food was love and
that you should never in a way criticize what you're given,
because she did this with such love, and she was
such a hard worker, and she didn't, you know, have
(13:17):
a lot of time. My brother and I in fact
started cooking. We would go to the library and get cookbooks,
and that's how I learned bread. Like I was eleven
and my brother was nine, and we would go and
we would make bread for her so that it was
ready when she came home. It was but so much fun,
(13:40):
and I loved the smell of yeast, and I thought
I would make one dish this Christmas that I loved
that she made. It was coconut bread. It's not difficult,
but to get it right, what is it? It's like
a cake and a bread at the same time. She
would make this, so then you get the coconuts and
we would break the coconuts and the water and grinding,
(14:03):
you know, with the crater, and then she'd get the
kids to grate the coconuts.
Speaker 1 (14:08):
Something your mother made the coconut bread, and.
Speaker 2 (14:10):
Her mother had made it. And then she also made
fish cakes, and she made something called blood pudding, which
is very English. Actually it's like blood sausage. Anyway, my
plan this Christmas is to approximate the cocaine and the
fish cakes and bring them. I'll bring them to you.
Speaker 1 (14:30):
Did your mother was she born and.
Speaker 2 (14:32):
My mother was born first generation, so my grandmother, but
my grand my mother had an aunt whom she loved
and was very close to their aunt b and she
was the big cook, and so my mother would cook
with her.
Speaker 1 (14:46):
So they kind of brought the food with the Absolutely
you didn't go out and have hamburgers and French fries.
Speaker 2 (14:53):
Oh, on Fridays we could go. She would give us,
well you know how you're working with she would give
us five dollars. My brother and I we could We
lived in Flatbush, which was a big West Indian Jewish
community in Brooklyn, and we could go get almost always
a West Indian takeout. No, no, no, but with my father
(15:18):
that was a whole other cuisine. My father really introduced
me to the world in a very profound way. He
was not mindful of how segregated New York could be,
so we went to eat in Germantown.
Speaker 1 (15:37):
He liked West German Town in New.
Speaker 2 (15:39):
Yorkville, so like in the eighties and the East Side.
He loved foreign films and any kind of cuisine that
he didn't make. So he was the first person I
ever saw mixtake Tartar. For instance. He loved this restaurant
in the village Emilias. We would go there quite a
(16:00):
bit on the weekends. He would take us around, my
brother and I. We would eat German food. We would
go to Kats's Delicatessen and have astronomy.
Speaker 1 (16:08):
To your son and an.
Speaker 2 (16:09):
Army it's still up the sign. And if I feel
terrible and have a terrible cold, I go to Cats
and have mults of.
Speaker 1 (16:15):
Ale souit chicken soup for the penicillin. So you did
have food. Food was a part of your culture. Was
eating at with your dad who didn't live with you,
right to do that dad thing, or the divorced parents
taking you out to restaurants. Did you love that?
Speaker 2 (16:32):
I love going to You know, it's funny, Ruthie. I
realized how much she must have structured this relationship after
my mother died. I was like, oh my god. She
made him have a structure with us, and that he
had to come on Friday and no Saturday, and we
(16:53):
would go out to the park, or we would go
somewhere and then we would have a big lunch together.
Speaker 1 (17:00):
So in a restaurant.
Speaker 2 (17:01):
Yeah, sometimes we go all the way up to sheep
Said Bay and have seafood. Or often he liked to
go into the city, which meant you would take a
bus over the Williamsburg Bridge and we would just get off.
And so a lot of times he would take us
to the library and walk around the forty second Street
library or Brooklyn Heights was another favorite place, to esplanade
(17:24):
and he would bring us watercolors and paths and we
would sketch while he read the paper.
Speaker 1 (17:31):
Well that's a kind of memory of food and parenting.
And she was amazing when you went off.
Speaker 2 (17:39):
She was little but mighty.
Speaker 1 (17:43):
When you were Columbia because you chose a university that
was in your hometown. Was did you but you lived
on campus, but was home.
Speaker 2 (17:52):
It was. It was weird. It's an interesting story. So
when I was sixteen, I went to Purchase Sunny Purchase,
which was a big arts school, and the story was
that my mother took me one of my sisters, her
husband drove us, and I remember we got into the room.
(18:13):
I put the suitcase on the bed, and she opened
the suitcase and she started to unpack the suitcase to
put things in drawers. And I took her hand and
I said, ma, And she realized she had to stop,
let go. It was profound and she had to stop
(18:33):
and let me suffer or have joy whatever. But she
couldn't buffer the world anymore. Anyway. I missed her so terrible.
I got strap throats and so fell apart and went
back home. So and she never questioned that. And then
(18:55):
when she was moving to Atlanta, her sister's moved down there,
she said, you can only stay in New York if
you go to school.
Speaker 1 (19:04):
Yeah.
Speaker 2 (19:05):
It was one of the few demands she's ever made.
And that's when I want to see.
Speaker 1 (19:09):
You applied to Columbia.
Speaker 2 (19:10):
Went yes, some amazing people I heard it.
Speaker 1 (19:13):
Did, and you went. You were thrust into the world
of sort of downtown and villages.
Speaker 2 (19:18):
Yes, and that's some incredible people.
Speaker 1 (19:20):
Were restaurants feature of what you did. Well, there was
no money.
Speaker 2 (19:25):
Well, you go to parties and you eat. But the
two there was a place that was delicious on Fourth
Street and Second Avenue that was Ukrainian, not Vasilka, but
the other place. So you get a big chunk of
hola bread and peace suit. And then if you had
(19:47):
a little bit more money, you could go up to
b an H Dairy which was the Kosher restaurant, and
you could have pancakes or latkas. So it was a
big Eastern European in Jewish community where you could eat
substantially for very little money.
Speaker 1 (20:06):
And well you will mostly Solidari people kind of would
leave apartments in a month if they didn't like it
was a it was a very wild place.
Speaker 2 (20:16):
It was a long time. So let's say I left
Brooklyn in the early eighties and it was pretty lawless
for a long time.
Speaker 1 (20:26):
I guess, coming out of the seventies, coming out of Vietnam,
coming out of when when was the when was the
age era.
Speaker 2 (20:34):
Eight two ninety five.
Speaker 1 (20:36):
You've written a lot about that, Yes, I have talk
about that.
Speaker 2 (20:42):
Well, it was just devastating in terms of it's hard
Ruthie to get younger people to understand that. It was
like kind of science fiction that you know, you'd be
chatting with someone one day and then they would be gone.
And the sad things for some people that families abandoned them.
(21:02):
That'sible didn't know what to do with the bodies. They
would dump them in garbage bags, and it was a
It was a horrifying period. But I think a lot
of I think it sped up intimacy, It sped up
into yes, that it taught you that the value of
friendship was something to value, you know, and not to
(21:25):
take for granted.
Speaker 1 (21:26):
Ever, so recently I saw on television course line. You know,
I just look at something like that, and you think,
I bet every one of those beautiful dancers died.
Speaker 2 (21:37):
I think there may be, I guess because they had
the fiftieth anniversary, and I think they're only like two
or of the men.
Speaker 1 (21:55):
A lot of people, And I don't know if you
feel that way. Was I see that food being able
to drink good wine, eat good food, cook good ingredients.
It was almost a measure of their success. Measure your
success by you know, the house you live in the
clothes you wear or the trips you can take. But
you might also measure it in your in the way
(22:15):
you can eat. And was there a point when you
realized that you could?
Speaker 2 (22:20):
Because everything I think I've heard it something from my father.
You're bringing up wonderful love feelings for him. He was
a difficult person. But my mother used to be in
a state by how much money he spent outside in restaurants.
I have inherited that from my father and didn't care
(22:43):
how much I spent if we were having a good time.
So when I moved to Tribeca, the odeon became my
living and I would meet people at the and I
had I don't think I even had a bank account, Ruthie,
but if I earned some A wonderful friend of mine
at another gallery, remember she was working for gegos In,
(23:06):
and I had written something, and she said, oh, where
can we mail the check? And I said, would you
mind meeting me at the check? I couldn't even wait
for the post, and she said, and she remembers that,
she said, I was very kind, and I met her
at the oudeing. They they would cash the chat and
(23:27):
sometimes they'd let you run of a tab, not much,
but I could pay them back and then start another tab.
So I truly inherited that kind of it's an extension
of your home feeling from my father.
Speaker 1 (23:40):
Yeah, so I lived in Paris. We used to look
when he was doing the property. I promised you every
one had checks and then you had those stubs, you know,
we always forgot to fill in the stub. But I
was probably ninety nine percent of the checks to a restaurant.
It was always around food, that's right. We basically just
somewhere in Paris. We're going to whatever we have, that's right,
(24:01):
eating and going Outcause also, let's think about going to
bed at night. You're going to bed at night, do
you ever think about what you're going to eat the
next day? Or when you wake up in the morning,
do you think about what you've met?
Speaker 2 (24:13):
Tell Actually, interestingly, they've been very generous at the Michael
Werner Gallery. And because of jetlag, you wake up at
hours and there is a wonderful night waiter at this
at the Beaumont Hotel. And he is so sweet and shy,
(24:34):
but he just laughs at my or he's chuckling a
little bit when he puts the train down. Because he
may have two iced teas, please a bowl of berries?
Do you have a spacon? Like it's sort of like
that kind of jet lagging thing. And he comes and
he says, oh, no problem, sir, and he brings the dishes.
And I realized that it's it's something I've gotten from
(24:55):
my father, that it's a connection to the home, that
if you meet a server who's gracious to you, that
they become your friend and you ask about their family
and they ask you, and so it's always been an
extension of my home. I had an editor early on
in The New Yorker, and she would say, she said,
(25:17):
but you don't make any money, how do you go?
And I said, it'll come, like it'll just come. And
it was something that I deeply inherited from my father
that it was I feel very relaxed in restaurants. Yeah,
you do because of him. That restaurant she'd been a rage.
Speaker 1 (25:35):
Would Yeah, but you know, I watch it here. We
see I say to the waiters, you know, and we
may have our meetings or the servers or the all
of us. To chefs, you never know what people you know,
what is their story of their table. So if somebody
comes in and they I could take you in that
restaurant right now, and you see people having a great time.
(25:56):
They're all sitting there, but you don't know if yesterday
their dad died, you know, somebody was you know, lost
their job, whether celebrating a wedding or a birth of
a baby, or you know where they're going to break up.
Speaker 2 (26:13):
Wonderful, beautiful story.
Speaker 1 (26:15):
Every table has a story. And I'll tell you what.
We won't have it in the podcast because I've told
you a million times, which is that a man came
in once and called us before he's coming, and he said,
I'm going to propose tonight, so would you please write
on the chocolate cake will you marry me? So we
thought that's so lovely, and so we wrote will you
(26:36):
marry me on the top of the cake. And after
their first course, he came up to the to those
kitchen he said, cancel the cake.
Speaker 2 (26:46):
Whoa?
Speaker 1 (26:48):
And we always what was it?
Speaker 2 (26:51):
What happened? What happened? She said, you know?
Speaker 1 (26:54):
And and also people do very again, have often said
very private things in a public space. So if they
are going to farre somebody, are they're going to announce
an affair or they're going to they will do it
in a public space, so he kind of regulates your behavior.
You can't throw a fork at somebody, and you know.
So I think it is interesting the dynamic and maybe
(27:15):
your father taking you to restaurants because he loved them,
but maybe he wanted you to be in a safe
place where you think.
Speaker 2 (27:21):
I think you're completely correct. I think that him showing
these places was as much as the world that he
could show us, right, I mean, I don't think my
father got in a plane until he was in his
late sixties to visit my sister in Saint Thomas. So
he was very interested in the world. How do you
(27:45):
show your children in the world. You don't have the means,
but you want to take them places. Well, you can
take them to a great restaurants, you can expose them
to film. I remember him taking us to see The Passenger, and.
Speaker 1 (28:02):
That's so interesting.
Speaker 2 (28:04):
He was a very weird guy, but it was but.
Speaker 1 (28:07):
He was going to see the Passenger.
Speaker 2 (28:10):
He was I can see why she was interested in her.
As I get older, I have.
Speaker 1 (28:16):
A friend whose mother brought him up with that no
matter who walked in the house, whether it was somebody
fixing the dish washer, or invited guests within something like
I think eighty seconds they had to ask something to
eat or drink, you know, And I think what it
means is the way of stopping what you're doing and saying,
I'm paying attention to you.
Speaker 2 (28:35):
This is interesting. My mother always said, and I passed
this on to people. She said, I never went to
my mother's house empty hand, and even if it was
an onion or an orange, I would bring it. And
so it's that kind of homage to the elder.
Speaker 1 (28:50):
And so it goes back to the idea that you know,
as you said, that food is love. You know, food,
I never criticize it. It's a way of saying, you know,
whether and whether it's thing I don't love you. Yeah,
if you say, but you know, as you say, a
critic I have a friend who was we were having
and I don't mind. We actually like it if somebody
sends their food back if they didn't like it, and
(29:11):
we never argue. You know, they say my chicken is overcooked,
my sea bass is too burnt, or whatever, and you
just say thank you, and you they're right, you know,
whatever they say, you kind of empathize with if I
were you, you know, I would feel that same way
or whatever I think. If we say that food is
something other than teaching you about a culture, it's other
(29:33):
than if it's an invitation, if it's stopping you from
being hungry and being in pain, it also is comfort.
It's comfort to in sustinance. And so if I were
to say to you as my last or go on
and on or sort of final questions, is before we
(29:54):
go and have some substance before we eat with Katie
and everyone else and whatever they're cooking and the River
Cafe including a dover cell. If it was a comfort
for you and you need comfort, I hope you don't
need comfort to want you to be.
Speaker 2 (30:10):
Happy.
Speaker 1 (30:10):
If you do need comfort, is there something that you
would go to a memory of your mother's or something.
Speaker 2 (30:15):
I would go to. They're called bakes and it's it's
like it's, you know, the Italian's fry bread, but these
are these are flat. They have baking soda and it's
with cinnamon and they're fried. They're little little dollops of
dough that are fry but with a lot of cinnamon
(30:38):
in them and then sprinkled with sugar. And that's what
I would eat.
Speaker 1 (30:41):
You're gonna make me them something. Where would we have them?
Speaker 2 (30:44):
Where I would have to because they're they're hot out
of the pans. So it's just a little bit of
oil because they're not oily at all. So it's a
batter with a lot of cinnamon and very simp bullflower
water blah blah blah, fried very lightly. And we have
(31:06):
to make them in your kitchen because you want to
have the smells, okay, and you want to eat them
hot my kitchen.
Speaker 1 (31:12):
Okay, we'll go back when you come to New York.
Let's do it, my friend.
Speaker 2 (31:16):
Yeah, thank you so lovely, thank you for this great experience.
Speaker 1 (31:26):
Ruthie's Table four is proud to support Leukemia UK. Their
Cartwheel for a Cure campaign raises funds for vital research
and more effective and kinder treatments for a cute my
Lord Leukemia. Please donate and to do so search Cartwheel
for a Cure.
Speaker 2 (31:53):
Ruthie's Table four was produced by Alex Boo and Zad
Rogers with Susanna Hislop, Daniel Naranjo Rodrigue and Bella Selini.
Speaker 1 (32:01):
This has been an atomized production for i Heeart Meat