Leaving a dream job is never easy. I know because I’ve done it twice. The first time was when I retired as food editor and columnist for the Los Angeles Times after more than 25 years. At that time, I thought I was done with writing about cooking – much as I had enjoyed doing it – and was ready for new adventures, which included moving to Ireland .
But fate had other ideas and in a remarkable stroke of good fortune, much to my surprise, I was asked to join The Irish Times food team as a regular columnist. Though I came to Ireland with no intention of continuing to write about food, the opportunity to write for a newspaper I had long admired was irresistible.
Now it’s somehow suddenly six years later. And this time maybe my retirement is for good.
My leaving certainly has nothing to do with the newspaper, which continues to be a model for modern journalism with such a great complement of talented writers (and paying for itself with just online subscriptions!).
I’ll paraphrase the famous break-up line, “it’s not them, it’s me.” After 40 years of writing about food (and more than 50 years in newspapers), I find I’m no longer as excited about the next assignment as I once was.
And, more importantly, I think it’s time to give that chance to someone who still feels that excitement. Talking to another old fogey recently, the conversation turned to how hard it is for young journalists today, and while thinking about that, I realised I had a chance to help, just by getting out of the way.
The food world today is immeasurably different from when I started. It’s actually shocking to think back to those times. If I wanted fresh herbs other than parsley, I had to grow them. I had to make a deal with my local produce guy that during the two weeks fresh red bell peppers were available, he’d save me a case, which I’d roast, peel and freeze to last the rest of the year. All cheese was orange and came in blocks.
Pioneer days indeed. My neighbourhood Tesco and SuperValu supermarkets today would have been regarded as legendary gourmet paradises back then.
But just as much as has changed, some things have remained the same. The essential truth of good cooking is, as it ever was, that the best way to become a better cook is to know how to choose better ingredients.
Though that is just as true in the professional kitchen, I’m specifically talking about home cooking here. While I enjoy great restaurant meals and admire the chefs who create them, my writing has always been based around the idea that good food is something that should be enjoyed every day, not just on the occasional splurge.
The importance of great ingredients was brought home to me in the 1980s and early 1990s, when part of my job was visiting a different California farmers’ market every week. Spending time with good farmers and tasting the difference their work made was eye-opening.
I vividly remember roasting beets from a local farmer, dressing them just with good olive oil and a spritz of balsamic vinegar and serving them with shaved Pecorino Romano cheese and their blanched greens (why are beet greens not appreciated here in Ireland? They’re delicious). So simple, but it would be hard to find anything better.
I admit that at times I could get carried away. I confess to once or twice serving my guests a single perfect peach for dessert. But honestly, those peaches – grown just up the highway – were so good they made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.
Eventually I concede…