The last stop of the On Eating launch tour was Bold Fork Books in D.C., where I was in conversation with Daniela Galaraza, a food journalist and friend whom I’ve always admired. I was running on fumes at this point, but meeting up with Daniela perked me up. My schedule had left very little downtime and I was fighting pollen off left and right; I’m prone to allergic bronchitis and a bad bout can have me down for a week or more, which is never good for a self-employed person and would be worse than ever after I did all this book promotion and needed to get back to actual work.

A book promotional cycle is work that doesn’t function as such; it’s a suspended reality that is also reality. I’ve done it twice and it’s when I become the most acutely aware of how this job is best suited to people who never have to think about money—the people who actually have what the marketing folks will refer to as “your team,” a phrase that will have you sitting at your bedroom desk looking around and finding only a dog. It’s also, though, the best way to meet your readers and be reminded why you do this at all. And I gotta say: My readers are incredibly smart and extremely stylish.

I’d gotten up early to take the train from Baltimore to D.C., and was met at the station by former Brooklynite and food writer Allison Robicelli who gave me a coffee and a blueberry scone. This was so good and so generous, and she gave me a very Bay Ridge talking-to about having my panties in a knot over the Times review because of that goddam word (“tortuous”). 

Then I got to D.C. and remembered I was doing local television that afternoon: I hadn’t really forgotten that I was doing it; it’s more that it was hypothetical until it was imminent, and so I was in the cab from Union Station to the hotel googling “how to do makeup for TV.” I am always so washed out under harsh lighting, but I’d also forgotten my translucent powder in New York, so I just over-blushed and over-contoured and put a heavy amount of highlighter on my cheeks and hoped for the best. Judge for yourself. I haven’t watched it but I like the thumbnail they chose. I had fun doing live TV, and I really don’t know how I’ve become so comfortable with all this kind of stuff. I just focus and do it and somehow don’t puke.

The aftermath of all that focus and fear of looking like a floating balloon they put a curly wig on required a couple of hours sitting at the hotel bar staring into space while sipping two martinis in languorous succession. I followed this up by going to Lost City Books and getting kicked out initially for being on the phone with my mom, then went back in and spent $100 a bit recklessly. New Álvaro Enrigue translation Now I Surrender; Septology by Jon Fosse; Tiny Gardens Everywhere by Kate Brown; and The Ritz of the Bayou by Nancy Lemann. A very AK selection in which the fiction is in translation and the nonfiction is by women.

The conversation with Daniela went well, and the crowd was so kind. An adorable couple came up to have their book signed and told me they realized on their second date that they both read my work. Me and my tortuous (sorry, this joke is expiring soon) writing, part of a love story! So many food essay students attended each event, too, and that support from people at whom I’ve ranted about not using the word “relatable” to describe a piece of writing is so amazing.  

Afterwards, I went to dinner at Purple Patch with the wonderful writer and esthetician Ivana Esther Martínez; vegan baker, writer, and much more Carrington Epperson (who brought me cupcakes that were to die for); and writer and chef Vanessa Shields. All have come to some of the newsletter’s events; Ivana and Vanessa met through a book club meeting! It was really a wonderful way to end the tour.   

Why did I Tarantino this recap by starting at the end? I’m not sure. The whole tour began with recording the Taste podcast with Aliza Arbanel (forthcoming) and signing books at Kitchen Arts & Letters. My publisher got me a chauffeur for this entire day, and I had him stop at the McNally Jackson in Rockefeller Center so that I could pick up On the Calculation of Volume IV by Solvej Balle and Offenses by Constance Debré. I was extremely Larry David on Curb about having a chauffeur and was worried about him being bored, but when I left Kitchen Arts & Letters he seemed to be having a great conversation with another driver so I popped over to a nearby pub for a pint to come down from the action and celebrate.

Then I had a “day of beauty” by getting acrylic nails (I’m allergic to gel), my roots done, and my eyebrows threaded, and on Thursday, it was the Brooklyn launch day. I woke up at 4:40 a.m. and refreshed the Times book review, then woke up again 20 or so minutes later and found the review. I read it in bed with my heart pumping through my chest: Reviews don’t sell books anymore, but a pan can screw up your whole trajectory. I got through it almost unscathed, and despite that and despite being my big age, I cried to my mom because I felt so misunderstood and like I could never get over being perceived as a no-fun nerd just because I think the politics and history of food are interesting. I don’t even have the credentials or job that would make being a no-fun nerd worthwhile! (If you’d like to hire me to teach, please do.)

Regardless, I got my shit together. I wore a vintage Brooks Brothers tuxedo shirt and super-wide, flowing Nono Maldonado pants, with my customary book tour shoes: Marc Jacobs Kiki boots from the 2023 reissue. They are a 7-inch platform, making me 5’7”, which is how I prefer to be when meeting people. I was in conversation with Comedy Book author and “Good One” host Jesse David Fox, and perhaps inspired by the context of comedy, did a weird amount of what I’ve decided was crowd work. Folks in attendance got to see me chastise my friend Doug for his phone being dead and my mom was in the front row and I busted my cousin Richie’s balls for being born in 1998, so it was sort of like the book had come to life. There were many cool women of media and publishing in attendance—literary agents, book editors, writers, publicists—as well as lots of my own favorite writers and artists, like Millicent Souris and Karmela Padavic-Callaghan (preorder Entangled States) and Kit Mills.

From there, it was on to Philly, where my oldest best bud Kerry lives, so I got to hang with her before and after. The event was with Mindy Isser in the Aiyah backyard, with books from Binding Agents, and Mindy asked lots of great, fresh questions—I knew she would! A lovely and interactive crowd, there, too, where we all came together in shared trauma over soggy vegetable sandwiches filled with portobellos, zucchini, and roasted red peppers. If you’re on the level, that description alone inspires a wince.

In New Hope, Pennsylvania, the wonderful Holly Bea Adair of Central Stem hosted a dinner at Amara Tasting Room at Roots to River Farm with chef Ian Knauer (formerly of Gourmet!). Holly produces the most stunning tablescapes and floral arrangements through work with artisanal, sustainable craftspeople and her own flawless taste: strung grapes, vases made from old Skyy Vodka bottles, table runners with fabric produced from banana waste and embroidered with various foods from the book. She sets up a little pop-up shop, too, that had everyone excited.

The meal itself was a stunner: oysters hot and cold; a polenta with the most perfect asparagus of my life, along with morel and maitake mushrooms; and a dessert of tarte tatin reimagined as a sweet pastelillo in a pool of caramel, with an ice cream made from the house’s radicchio amaro. (I was served a sorbet, as my book does firmly state that I am lactose intolerant.) I highly recommend that folks with books coming out seek these folks out for collaborations—it was absurdly thoughtful and a beautiful evening. My mom, sister, aunts, and cousin Emma all came, too, and I am quite aware that I am extremely lucky to have such a supportive and fun family. 

I got to rest a tiny bit but was fighting Pennsylvania’s pollen off for a couple of days before I went to Boston for my event at Wild Child with chef Milena Pagán. It was adorable and intimate, and I think the only men in attendance were Pagán’s husband and fellow food writer Andrew Janjigian, of Wordloaf and future Breaducation fame. My friend Melissa surprised me by coming and asked about Ivan Illich, like only someone who has known me for over a decade would, and I almost cried telling everyone about the transformative series of tarot readings she gave me back in 2015 that gave me the courage to quit copyediting to pursue writing. One reader suggested we go to Field & Vine for food afterwards because her girlfriend is the GM, and we did—wonderful cabbage! I wish my appetite had been bigger but it just isn’t after events.

In Baltimore, after a 7-hour train ride, I immediately got ready and then had a martini and oysters in the hotel bar (I’ll be writing more about the importance of a good hotel bar in coming weeks) before going to Red Emma’s to talk with Anny Gaul. I spoke a small amount of French with my cab driver and am still proud of myself. Gaul is great—see our Salon convo with her about Nile Nightshade—and gave a very kind and generous prelude about how we met for the first time at a symposium at Indiana University. I appreciated so much the readers who came, and it was so nice to meet writer and academic Siobhan Phillips in real life—I teach Gaul and Phillips together in my recipe-as-essay class! Art becomes life! Reminds me of my practice of mapping affinities. Oh, there’s the nerd again…!

And then, D.C., the story you’ve already heard. Thank you to everyone and anyone who’s read the book or come to an event. It will, I hope, have a long life in the world. I never said about No Meat Required that I was proud of my accomplishment; I am so proud of this book, and always will be, and no one will take that away from me. I hope it’s clear if you meet me or really engage with my work that I’m not a no-fun nerd, but that I do find thinking and reading to be fun. I wanted On Eating to be a testament to appetite for food and life, yes, but also how we hunger for culture and literature and art and music and knowledge and friendship! I’ll leave you with Karl Ove Knausgaard: