Over the past eight years, one of the reasons I kept resisting Miss Chef’s pleas to find another job was that I didn’t want to turn a pleasure into a chore. When I was laid off this spring, I spent a month or two looking for another comfortable corporate position, where I could trade my time for a paycheck. But now I am focusing on this freelance writing gig, learning to sell myself and juggle multiple deadlines.
A few days ago, I began to wonder if I had the dedication to see this through. At least one afternoon I found myself saying “I don’t want to THINK about food, and I don’t want to WRITE anything!” I was afraid I’d already hit the point where pushing myself to write had sucked all the fun out of it. I never imagined I’d be tired of food!
Today, however, I felt like my mojo was coming back. A few emails from an editor, a few new deadlines, and oh, did I mention there’s a cover story in my future….well, that has gotten me back in my rickety old office chair, typing away. It feels a lot like my relationship with gardening. At some point every year, I despair at the thought of forcing myself outside to dig up the bed, figure out a planting scheme and start the whole weed ‘n’ water cycle over. And every year, without fail, something clicks and I’m running out the door in March, trowel in my gloved hands.
I just hope I can depend on my writing mojo to be so reliable.
On the other hand, this “I’m a food writer” thing has already made me a more interesting person. Last week Miss Chef and I went to a “Make your own bi bam bap” party at a friend’s house. The crowd was half chefs and foodies, a few writers, and the rest plain ol’ interesting folk. The perfect combination of people I knew, some I’d met once or twice before, and fascinating strangers.
One of those fascinating strangers was the bi bam bap (bee bam bop), a Korean comfort food. You put some rice in a bowl, load up from a selection of seasoned vegetable dishes, a little delicious stir-fried beef if you’re lucky, a fried egg and some gochujang sauce, which is sweet and tart and smoky and a bit spicy…
Then you mix that whole mess up and stuff it in your face with chopsticks.
And it’s delicious. My experience would suggest that a glass or two of wine helps enormously with iffy chopstick skills, though it apparently doesn’t do much for your photography skills.
I was feeling good that week, having finished up a freelance writing course I took through our local community college. The instructor was just what I needed—an experienced freelance writer with a ready if cynical sense of humor, lots of insight into the publishing world, and a very encouraging approach to editing our work. I learned a lot about constructing stories, communicating with editors and pitching ideas, and I think my writing has improved. (You might not notice a difference, because I probably will ignore lots of rules here.) Most of all, it made me more confident about selling my work to some bigger magazines.
Last week was also the first time I had several deadlines for different editors. Besides my usual weekly blog post, I had two longer stories due for Edible Charlotte, the local edition of a nationwide franchise. Charlotte’s edition comes out quarterly, and I’ll have two pieces in the September issue. One of them is a profile of Peter Reinhart, which will impress you no end if you happen to really be into baking. If you aren’t, well, I’ll just say I leapt at the chance to interview a national figure in the food world.
I’m also moving into doing more print with the local independent paper I’ve been blogging for, including that cover story I mentioned above. I’ve got the recipe one coming out this week or next, another farmer-centric one in September, and that cover story I mentioned above will be in October. I won’t say more about that until I’ve got some interviews lined up, but it should be a lot of fun. So much fun, I’ve already written a draft of the lede (see what I learned there?).
In the meantime, I’m still working a little at a farmers market, putting in some volunteer hours with Friendship Gardens, and of course trying to keep up with my own garden. Yesterday, after a few weeks of benevolent negligence, I spent an hour or two staking and tying some overenthusiastic growers.
This is an “after” shot, still in the morning shade.
Right in the middle, you can see the invasive colony of volunteer tomatoes. The first ones grew up fast enough to cover the arrival of the next batch, and before you know it, I’ve got about ten unasked for tomato plants. Most of them are cherry tomatoes, but one has surprised me with a couple of regular beefsteak-type fruits.
That’s oregano in the planter in front, and a marigold on the right. Once again, I’ve got marigolds overgrowing some of my vegetables, though not as badly as last year. I did have to pull one up and tie it to a trellis though, which I’ve never heard of before.
By the time I’d finished all my chores, the sunlight was getting harsh, so the rest of these photos are a little hard to see. But…my squash plant has (knock wood) yet to succumb to last year’s squash vine borers, and though it’s only given me a single (if gorgeous) squash, it continues to flower and grow.
I’m not sure if those two little guys in the back will mature or not, but I’ll take whatever it wants to give me.
My mortgage lifter tomato is still hanging on, still ripening.
They seem to take forever, but on the plus side, that second one means my $4 tomato might only cost me $2!
I planted cucumbers mostly to donate, and they are my most interesting crop right now. They’ll be an inch long for a little bit, then grow to two or three inches, and the next thing you know, they’re these whopping big monsters ready to pick. If I could get more than two at a time, they’d probably make awesome kosher-style pickles.
Over on the patio, the beautiful planter Miss Chef and I built this spring has been a partial success. The harsh lighting makes it hard to see, but there’s a cherry tomato plant in the back.
I got a little overenthusiastic about adding lime, which the hot peppers in front don’t seem to appreciate. The Sungold cherry tomato, however, is doing well. Like last year, it’s grown long and lanky all the way to the top of its four-foot high stakes and doubled back down again. Now it’s growing into the jasmine behind it. You can see lots of ripe orange fruits on it (thus the name “sungold”), but the dang things keep splitting before I can harvest them. Rosie’s enjoyed quite a few.
The one plant that’s really been happy here this year is that basil bush right in front of the tomato. I took that photo a day or two after I’d harvested a ton to make pesto. And below is the part I’d cut off.
Yeah, imagine that plopped on top of the basil bush in the previous picture. This is at least the third time we’ve gotten a sizeable harvest off of it. This time I made 2 1/2 cups of pesto, and I expect I’ll be able to do it again in a couple of weeks. What’s even better is that I’ve been able to keep the plant from flowering, so the stalks aren’t woody, and the leaves are big and tender. I feel doubly lucky, since apparently there’s some kind of mildew decimating basil crops all over North Carolina.
Finishing up in the garden, I stooped down to pet McKenna, who’d been following my every move…
…and I noticed that I could now see all the way down my rocky little path through the garden.
I thought it was charming. McKenna thought it was time to go inside for dinner already.