The connections between Scott Rothkopf, Director of New York’s Whitney Museum, and I run deep.
When Rose and I wrote the first River Cafe Cookbook in 1994, Scott’s husband, Jonathan Burnham, helped us with our introduction.
Museums and restaurants are about connecting art and people. They welcome people into a space and create something beautiful to see, or cook something delicious for them to eat. This is what my friend Scott and I do every day, and this is what we will talk about today. A deep connection, indeed.
Ruthie's Table 4, made in partnership with Me+Em
This episode is brought to you by Me and M, the British modern luxury clothing label designed for busy women. Founded and designed in London. Me and M is about intelligence style. Much thought and care are put into the design process, so every piece is flattering, functional and made to last forever. Me and M is well known for its trousers and how I got to know the brand. It's my go to for styles that are comfortable enough to wear in the kitchen or the restaurant, also polished enough for meetings. Me and M is available online and in its stores across London, Edinburgh, New York. If you're in London, I'd really recommend heading to their beautiful, brand new flagship store in Marlevine, which opens on the twenty ninth of October. The connections between Scott Rothkoff, director of New York's Whitney Museum, and I run very deep. When Rose and I wrote the first River Cafe cookbook in nineteen ninety four, Scott's husband Jonathan Burnham helped us with our introduction. When the Jasper John's retrospective opened at the Whitney, Scott, who curated the show, took us and our young children through slowly describing the paintings he loved most and why museums and restaurants are about connecting art and people. They welcome audiences Scott's chosen word, into his space and create something beautiful to see, or we cook something delicious for them to eat. When I spoke to you yesterday, I said, what's new, and you said, Ruthie, what's new is that I had a visit from Barack and Michelle Obama to see the show that is on right now, which is called Edges of Aley. Tell me about it.
Yeah, it is really one of the most exciting thing that's ever happened at the Whitney. The show is just this extraordinary look into the life and work of the American choreographer Alvin Ailey, who famously said that he wanted to chronicle in his art, which was Dan dance the Black experience, and he does that, but for me, that's the American experience. There's everything in this work, you know. He grew up in Rogers, Texas in the South. It was a sharecropping family, very poor. He lived in la He danced on Broadway, he danced in movies. He choreographed the opening night of Studio fifty four. You have the Church, you have Soul Train, you have Gospel, you have Duke Ellington, you have the State Department, which funded his journeys around the world. As you know, one of the great choreographers of America, beginning in the nineteen sixties, he danced at the Lynda Johnson White House, and Ailey has never been subject of a big show like this. And he is, to my mind, not you know, the greatest black choreographer or even the greatest choreographer. He's one of the greatest creative geniesses of the twentieth century in any medium period. And that's what this show is about. So when the Obamas came calling on the second or third day that the show was opened to say could we come for our anniversary, I thought, sure that we can make happen. So they got a private visit too, Ruthie. An hour and fifteen minutes they stayed, and it was so moving to see that show through their eyes. Was really something I'll never forget.
Well, lucky them, yes, lucky to have you and lucky to take them there. So you've come for.
Freeze, I've come for freeze, tell me. And also I came for a birthday party of one of Jonathan's old friends called the Destination Party. It was it wastation. We were at Castle Howard, which is a very glamorous place to celebrate a seventieth birthday of a mother and a thirtieth birthday of her daughter, which ensures that you have a lot of good looking young people as you get older, and I, being forty eight, was really upset that I was seated at the old people's table. Well, I thought, you know, and you know, like I had this bridge generation. Yeah, so that was a good you know, having an English husband means that there are certain things that bring me to London other than just art fairs and museum openings.
Why don't we read the recipe?
Well, this is very exciting for me because I don't think I've actually read a recipe since I met my husband. He does all the cooking and I do all the eating. But this is something I really enjoy. I love artichokes, so I'm delighted to read about spaghetti with artichoke pesto for six. If we were making it at my home, we'd probably make it for eight, even if we were only having six. Comeback, because Jonathan is always panicked, there won't be enough.
That's a nice quality, so there's always too much.
Exactly six small globe artichokes boiled, one hundred grams of pine nuts, one garlic clove, two fifty mL of milk, two tablespoons of parsley leaves, one hundred and fifty grams of grated pecorino, one hundred and fifty mili liters of olive oil, four hundred grams of spaghetti. Blend the artichokes, pine nuts, and garlic to a rough pulp. Add the milk, parsley and pecorino, and pulse again. Add the olive oil to the mixture to form a cream, season and put it into a small pan. Cook the spaghetti until al dente. Drain and return the pasta to the pan with one ladleful of hot water, toss, Add the pesto and toss again. The sauce should be wet and creamy. If necessary, add more water. Serve with freshly grated pecorino or parmesan.
Oh great, well, do you want to get him. We're going to bring some over cooking. Get there in the restaurant, even though you're having lunch. We'll have a taste.
Well, I didn't have breakfast in anticipation of my lunch, so there.
Have spaghetti before lunch. So let's talk about growing up in Dallas. First, the start at the beginning. In the beginning, tell me about the food as a child in your home.
Sure, I was born in Arizona. I was born on an Air Force base called Luke Air Force Base that was outside of Phoenix, and my dad was in the service then. This was in the seventies, and we moved to Dallas when I was just almost a year old. So I really did grow up in Dallas and really was a kind of child of the nineteen eighties. And thou sisters, No, I have a stepsister who entered my life when I was twelve.
Let's say, so you were an only child with your parents.
I was, My mom worked, My dad was a doctor. My mom worked at what was then a New saxophonth Avenue store selling handbags to you know, these people in Dallas in the eighties who wanted very glamorous looking bags covered with rhinestones and things. And she was a good cook. And when I was really little, in our household we kept kosher actually, so that was interesting and it was you know, not that strict. When we went out, we kind of cheated, but at home it was because it was no pork, no pork, no shellfish, no milk and meat, which actually meant I was introduced to all sorts of funny products like cool whip, which was a kind of fake whipped cream because you couldn't have whiped cream on your dessert after a meal that had eaten at things like that. And she was a good cook. My mom and her grandfather had been a baker, and her grandmother the cook at a restaurant in a hotel in the Catskill Mountains that they know what it was called the Liberty. Yeah, it no longer exists, that hotel. It was very close to Gross. It was the sort of less less known cousin of Gross Singers.
Yes, that's where I grew Yeah, I know, so my years right and you know that area.
Well, the hotel was actually called the Dixie Lake Hotel. The town was Liberty, New York. That was the nearest one to it. So she grew up in this world of hospitality. It was a kosher hotel, and she learned certain things from from her mother and her grandparents. So we did have a lot of home cooking. I remember, especially the Jewish holidays like Passover and restaurant on everyone coming together around big meals.
Did your mother have a recipe book of her grandparents' recipes?
You know, she joked that her grandmother and her mother used to always sabotage all the recipes that they would give to her, which apparently is not uncommon. They would accidentally leave out so that she was sort of foiled and ever being as good a cook as they were. But you know, it was a time in Dallas where there was probably like the kind of inkling of a dawning food conscience. Or you know, we're about what years in the eighties, Let's say it's not we didn't go to farmers markets, nobody had ingredients like that. But I remember, you know, you could buy basil at the supermarket that wasn't flaked and dried, or you know, my mother had this cookbook that reached us from New York City. It was called the Silver Palette Cookbook, and it was about it was from this store on the Upper West Side that sold prepared foods basically in New York and my mother must have thought that this was incredibly kind of chic and worldly, and this was sort of before anybody had heard of Inine Garden, let's say, and the kind of things that she has you cook. And she would make recipes from that cookbook, and I remember looking at it thinking this just must be the most glamorous place in the world. I always had an obsession with New York, so it wasn't all old fashioned kosher cooking.
So she would work during the day and chop and then come home and would you sit down to dinner? And we did as a family.
We always pretty much always sat down to dinner.
You know.
My parents divorced when I was nine or ten, and they had joint custody, so I would go back and forth, and it kind of meant that whatever night they had me, they were home. They didn't make other plans because that was maybe only half the time. And we would eat my mom, my stepfather, and I and she would often, you know, grill like a simple chicken breasts I can remember, like marinated in Italian dressing, which also probably seemed like an interesting food concept at the time. And my stepmother also cooked. But my father had a recipe that he thought that he was famous for. Famous perhaps only to those who knew him well, called hamburger lemons surprise.
Which part was a surprise.
I don't know, probably the amount of lemons or the black pepper corns that as a child I used to have avoid, you know, burning my mouth. And that's the only thing I can make without a recipe I can make. Yeah, you can make it too, Ruthie, I bet, I don't think you want to.
You ever put it with pasta?
You know you could. You could put it with pasta, You could put it with anything. You could feed it to your dog.
Do you think your father was was expressing some form of love for you.
In a way? There might have been a bit of that.
I went to Dallas. I was in Dallas, which and I he was working with Ray Nasher mm hm great collective course, and we insisted on staying downtown. But this was in the seventies, maybe late seventies. But we had some good food, and I was wondering if you did you go out meals with your parents? We did?
You know? We went to Italian or Chinese restaurants in the neighborhood.
Special occasion.
Yeah, well there were special occasions there, you know, there were And you might know more about this than I did. But at that time in Dallas there was this kind of beginning of a kind of Southwestern cuisine, and there was a chef called Fearing at the Mansion on Turtle Creature so expensive that had a really well known chef, and they were bringing together ideas from some Mexican cuisine and some barbecue and you know, grilling and blackening things and kind of thinking about the Southwest and some of the more local cooking traditions and a sort of elevated manner. So that was a thing. And then there were a couple of like really old fashioned kind of restaurants I'm sure that don't exist in hotels like the Adulphus, and you would go and that's where we stayed, did you there?
You go, that's the hotel we staff. I'd thought of that.
In forty year I had a restaurant there and it was called the Pyramid Room, and you could have a sorbet, you know, intermetso that they would bring out a frozen swan that I think had like a flashlight inside, so it was like this glowing ice swan. And you could have a chocolate souflee there, which is the only time in my life that I ever had a soup flet until probably I went to France many years later. So there were these occasions that you did go out, you know, infrequently, for these super what seemed like very grand dining experiences.
So going back to the art history, who grew up always with art and with the I.
Visually grew up just always loving art. It was the thing that excited me and interested me the most of anything in the world. And I had friends in Dallas and the eighties who liked football or American football, I mean, playing sports. I never had any interest. My father remembers me picking flowers by the side of the field at my first soccer game, and I think he realized I was not going to be one for team sports at that point. But my mother was interested in art and she painted little herself, and she really encouraged me. And I developed an absolute fascination with Frankloyd Wright, the architect, and he had designed the theater in Dallas where I took little acting classes and did plays as a kid. And maybe when I was about nine or ten, right around the time my parents were getting divorced, actually I sort of wanted to go see some of these buildings and my mother, I think, realized that this was something that she could encourage in me. And we'd plan these trips and we went to see falling water outside of Pittsburgh, and we went to Taliessen, and we went to Chicago, and we went to all these different places, and it was this kind of wonderful time in the life of a mother and a son. Well, I was probably at that point, about eleven to twelve thirteen.
What do you think was it that drew you to Frank Cloyd?
There was something, you know. I used to study the floor plants and I could memory all the buildings. I was absolutely obsessed, and I would ask for volumes of the catalog Raisina for my birthday. They were very expensive and they were printed in Japan. I think we'd go to the Soli store and I had a collection of Frank would write books, and there was something about the kind of complexity of the space, and I would get lost in these floor plans and try to understand how the rooms fit together. And also the story of him was kind of grand and he went under the cape and a beret and you know, thwacked his cane and made pronouncements. Then at some point. An interest in contemporary art sort of supplanted the architecture fixation. But what my grandparents, who were very I was very close to my grandmother, especially my father's my father's mother. Was it just about my favorite person in the whole world. I'm even thinking about her now, I get a little choked up. I miss her. She always had her face made up and went to the beauty parlor, and you know, she wore some jewelry. And her husband was an accountant who had been born literally in a tenement on Ludlow Street and went to City College for free, which was a great opportunity that people had in those years during the depression. But she really believed in supporting my interest in art, and she and my grandfather I would I would go once a year to stay with them in August for like a week on Delta Airlines as an unaccompanied minor whatever age. I would yeah, Badge and I would get there, and I can still picture that that drive from LaGuardia Airport out to Hicksville, which is of course not a very attractive drive, but in my mind that was like people have what's your favorite journey, you know, like they're going to the Alps, you know, to go ski. My favorite journey was from LaGuardia to Hicksville, you know, your grandmother. Yeah, with them in the car. I remember being picked up and the anticipation of what that week would be. And they took me to the Whitney Museum many times as a child when it was on Madison Avenue to look at Calder Circus.
Will you describe what Calder Circus was?
Yeah, Calder Circus is one of the real treasures of the Whitney's collection, made by Alexander Calder, and he made sort of for fun, but it became a great artwork, all these different circus figures that he could, you know, pull a lever on a kangaroo and you know, it would walk and move its feet. And it's actually on view right now in the Whitney Museum in downtown Manhattan, and I take my son there and he's totally into it. The lion, all the different characters, and I'm just reminded. It's very touching to meet things do come full circle.
The River Cafe Cafe, our all day space and just steps away from the restaurant, is now open in the morning an Italian breakfast with cornetti, chiambella and crostada from our pastry kitchen. In the afternoon, I screamed coops in River Cafe classic desserts. We have sharing plates, Salumi, Misti, mozzarella, briusquetta, red and yellow peppers, Vitello tonado and more. Come in the evening for cocktails with our resident pianist in the bar. No need to book see you here. Just thinking of change in your life also in terms of the way you ate and what you could eat and maybe what you didn't need or bother eating. You went to college and you went to Harvard. Was that either an awakening because of the restaurants that were available in Cambridge or did you you know?
I mean I ate a lot of you know, bad dorm food, and I didn't cook and I didn't have a kitchen then because I lived in a dorm. But it was obviously a more international context.
You know.
Now Dallas has many immigrants from all around the world too, But we didn't grow up going to those kind of restaurants. I remember the first time I ate Ethiopian food and the kind of tang of that bread, or the first time, you know, I had Vietnamese fa You know, the kind of thing in Cambridge exactly, and the kind of thing that people associate with graduate student life and cosapolitan areas. My taste definitely started awakening to a broader range. Like in Dallas were going to be the only Asian food I would have had would have been a certain kind of Chinese food, and I say certain kind meaning American kind. But as I got to college, I had, you know, Japanese food and all these things, and a lot of it was was cheap, and we would go out with our friends sometimes venture into Boston.
After Harvard, you moved to New York.
I moved to New York for a year in an apartment, in a little apartment in Chelsea, about three blocks from where I'm living now, which is just to talk about coming full circle. It was a studio apartment. I did not have a bed. I had a sofa bed from Ikia that I rarely opened because that was going to require too much efforts. I slept sideways on this ikea sofa bed, and I don't know that you would call it a kitchen. It was not even a galley kitchen because it wasn't even enclosed. It was kind of part of this room essentially the only enclosed part. I don't know what it's called. It had. It had a stove, and it had a fridge and had an oven, none of which will probably ever used. I think if you'd open my fridge then you might have found, you know, some tonic and some cocktail olives and some leftovers or something growing on them.
So social life was centered around going to all the restaurants.
Yeah, we had these teeny tiny apartments and nobody really entertained at home. And I remember going, I mean speaking of like being in London to around the corner from me was the art dealer Gavin Brown, who now was part of Barbara Gladstone had this really cool gallery and he had this really cool bar, and he had a bar called Passerby. Yeah, in the front of the gallery. Yeah, this social space. So this would have been in my first year in New York. So let's say its ninteen ninety nine or something. And I would go to this bar and I was very aware that everyone in the room was really cool and really interesting, and I knew they were I knew who you know. Elizabeth Peyton, Oh my god, ELIZEB. Peyton's at the bar, and I remember there was this kind of shorter woman with big curly hair, who it turned out was Amanda Sharp, the founder of Freeze, speaking of the Freeze Art Fair. So I kind of thought, you know, I'm just not ready for New York. I got to go back to school, and I picked up, and I went back to Cambridge for graduate school, also studying art history. And then at some point I was offered a job of moving to New York to become a senior editor, and I thought, I better get to New York in my late twenties, and I was going to meet artists of my generation, and I was going to write about them, and I was going to go to their studios and I was going to drink with them, and maybe I'd make out with them and we'd go to bars and we just this was the minute, the last minute, or I was going to end up at Harvard and the Faculty Club with the pipe, which could have happened because I loved I loved the Academy. And so I picked up, and I moved to New York and started this job in the art world, which I never left.
In New York.
That was twenty years. Yeah, then I was ready. I had a business card.
I knew where I'm not ready for New York.
Yeah, I was like that. I was ready to not be that student or that Texas kid anymore. And it was an incredible journey about four five, six, the aughts as we call them, meeting so many people.
So did your aspiration? Did you did hang out with young artists? Did go to their studios? And you did? And did you eat?
And some of the friends should check them out?
You know?
The eating again? It was it was funny. I ate as a guest, as a journalist, as an editor. We went to the places where the business was of looking at art, of selling art, and often our hosts were museums or galleries that celebrated their artists. And we went to around the world to where art first were. And I developed a sort of taste for foods in a very select set of cities that were the stops on the art world's caravan.
I've always been interested in reading much earlier about to Cooning and Pollock and the artists that were in New York and what was it called maxis Kansas City where they would and the solitary life that they had pain all day in his studio and then going out at night to drink and to party and too because it is solitary.
And I think Gavin's Bar that one passer by mentioned was a bit of a maxis of its moment, and you know that it was interesting as a young critic, editor, person, whatever I was. We my friends and I were interested in the places that had a kind of patina of the art world's history. And it's amazing to me now to think that quite a few of them that we went to still exist twenty years later. And probably they were like Indochine, like the Odeon. I mean, these were places where we had seen pictures of, you know, the Leo Castelli gallery in the bathroom at Odeon with Andy Warhol, and you know, we could imagine what it was like when people went out there. And that was the eighties. So this was twenty years later, and twenty years later it's still there.
You were at the Whitney after Art Form, Yes, is that right?
So I went to work at the Whitney almost exactly fifteen years ago, two thousand.
And nine on Madison Avenue Museum by Marcel Pryor exactly.
You know, when I started the museum, first of all, I was not the director or the chief airs. My title was one word curator. It got longer as the time went by, so they had already made the decision to move downtown and the building was roughly designed by the time I got there, although in two thousand and nine when I started, we were really not long after the wait financial crisis, so there was some concern as to whether the museum was able to raise the money to do this project, which which we did.
Did you always knew that you wanted a restaurant.
There, Yeah, there was always going to be a restaurant. I think There've been a number of different ideas that I've witnessed in the last twenty years in the business, and probably my thoughts have evolved over that time. Tell me about museums, well, I mean, the funny thing is those bad museum restaurants, the cafeterias that big museums do. I remember going to the one at the Met with my grandmother in the eighties, and you could get at a cup of coffee that wasn't too expensive, You could serve yourself. The quality of the food may not have been that good, but it was extremely inclusive. And what I think we came to see was the idea that museums wanted to kind of up level this food service experience, and in so doing they became more expensive and more exclusionary. And I remember thinking, there's something funny about the first thing somebody sees is a patron eating a forty dollars piece of fish, and that became a greater disconnect in I think our minds as we wanted to create more access to the museum. So we've just relaunched our food service, and we sort of liked the idea of this. We're calling it like the flagship of French at bakery, that a bakery is a place where you can get sandwiches or a croissant or a cup of coffee, and that it would not be really fine fine dining, but an up level museum cafe which is not cheap, but it's certainly much more affordable than our past restaurant down stairs. And people can come in the neighborhood and take the bread if you bake up the Whitney home, they can get a cup of coffee. And I like to think that the destination is really the art, and the cafe is a place where you might if you're meeting a friend to see the Avonne Ali show. You'll come and have lunch before and then see you get a cup of coffee after on the way out. But maybe we're not trying to get in the business of running an incredible fine dining establishment on our eighth floor of a beautiful bar with views all of New York and see the Statue of Liberty in the Empire State Building. We had artists redesign these spaces, so the artist Deanni Whitehawk made a wonderful mural and the artist Rashid Johnson did this incredible sculpture in our downstairs space that's like a sort of gateway to the museum. Very Whitney that we would start with the artists designing the space before we had a restaurant tour or a food concept. I'm not sure the restaurant tours would agree that that was the way to go.
To go into a restaurant that that had been started with in the art world, rather than the restaurant.
It started in the art world. There was a moment where we're like, oh my god, I think we've actually made the food service impossible with Rashid sculpture, and he let us do some tweaks so that people could clear tables or get some access to the bar.
If you like listening to Ruthie's Table four, would you please make sure to rate and review the podcast on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, O, wherever you get your podcasts. Thank you. If somebody asked me my luxury, if I would say going to a museum when it's closed, and a real luxury for me was being taken with you around the Jasper John Show. Does he like to eat? Jasper?
Jasper is actually a very good cook, and he's very interested in in ingredients and seasonality in his garden. He's now ninety four years old. I'm doing the math his birthdays. In May he would have turned ninety four, so he was born in nineteen thirty. He is a good cook. And when you go to lunch at his house and Sharon, which is a very beautiful place to visit. It's an old stone house in Connecticut, and it has incredible art in it.
Does he collect or is it mostly his art?
He collects and is his art and his collection has the most interesting everything in it has this incredible provenance. It'll be like this is a Rauschenberg painting that he was given as a gift when they were you know, boyfriends. And this is an Andy Warhol you know, sculpture box that he uses just as an end table and gets a drink ring on it, and he remembers knowing Andy and seeing this mint Marilyn in the first time that Leo Costelli showed one. Or here's a sculpture of John Chamberlain's that he installed multiple times. But he also collects older art and as he became you know, had more means. He bought Picasso and Duga and seys On and you see and things with incredible provenoance like a Seyson that Duga owned. You see this greatane of artistic interest fro I'm like, wow, I'm looking at Jasper John's looking at a season that I know Degay used to look at in his living room. And so it's always a treat for me. The first time I went there. I'll never forget, you know, the experience of being welcomed into this world of you know, these incredible artistic objects, but also things that he finds interesting that are not as famous, like a George or pot or a Hameda bowl from Japan, or you know, even a kind of funny, like little toy that does something that moves. And he used to have a chef for a while that I knew very well. And when you eat there, like especially if it's at lunch, they put out a little buffet, and unlike Jonathan, unlike our home, there's not a lot of everything. You take like two little carrots, and you take a little piece of fish, and you take a little bit of bread or some kind of soup. He like soup. But everything feels like sort of perfectly selected and chosen, and you have quite a few small bites of different things.
Do you thing that reflects his art? Do you think he'd be paying.
Well, you know, it's funny. There's a certain amount of like a level of consideration and intentionality to it that nothing will go wasted. He also grew up, you know, in the depression, and that everything is sort of appreciated as a kind of complete gesture. Maybe I could see that.
And what about home? Now that you have two children and you have both of you have very important work days, what's the word of family balance food wise?
I am coming up on having met my husband jon and Burnham, whom you mentioned on your first book.
Oh, Yeah, I think you met over food. Did you meet it on a first date?
We met over it was drinks. Our first date was a blind day. We were set up by a mutual friend, almost exactly ten years ago. We're about a month shy of having known each other for ten years. And I would say it was a good of food. I kind of knew. I got on a plane right after that date and I thought, I've just met the guy I'm going to marry.
I remember Rose and I sort of sitting at his desk, probably on the desk grows stretched out, you know, writing the introduction to the book. Yeah, and he loved food. He loves he loves food. So you married a man who really how does that feel? Having one, I mean partner?
Great? He loves food certainly much more than I do. And everything is taken care of. And I think his love of food comes almost from a fear as a child of privation, which is a weird thing to say about someone who grew up certainly with means. But I guess in his household there just wasn't like in my household growing up. There was always food. There was coffee cake. You never sat down in a Jewish household like ours, without your grandparents, without eating, you know, it was just there was lots and lots of food. And I think he didn't grow up like that, you know. And he remembers his father was actually Japanese prisoner of war in you know, World War two, and thinking about like being hungry is something that he worried about, even though that's you know, ridiculous in terms of our financial situation, but it's just a kind of it's there deep down. He talks about it, I'm sure, or with a shrink that you know, the house just always has to have lots and lots of food, whereas I, as I said, would have just like an empty fridge. Our fridge is so full now. And he loves to cook, and he cooks almost six days a week. And this is a person who we could come home late from a party and I would just like scrounge around like a rodent for a cracker, and he would like put on water to boil and make pasta. And he cooks all the food for our children, and there's always delicious, delicious food at home. Interestingly, he reads cookbooks for pleasure almost every morning with his coffee while he eats his breakfast.
Do you think he's thinking about because some people do wake up in the morning and think what am I going to? Oh?
Definitely, he thinks. I can't wait for bad. I don't even eat breakfast. I have coffee, you know. He looks forward to that first meal, and he reads cookbooks the way people read like newspapers. With his coffee and his toast.
Food is a celebration, communication, it's a sharing. It's also a comfort. Yes. And so if we were for our last question, if we were thinking about food for you, Scott, being something that will give you comfort, is there something that you might go to when you when you need that.
I mean a dry gen martinie that'll cook.
Is that a comfort?
I'm not a comfort food eater, you know. I hear these people who say I need cookies or something.
I mean, it's a dry martine is a good as you know.
I might be more of a comfort drinker than comfort eat My Jonathan ow he says, you know, like if he's ordering fresh director when he goes, do you want anything, Darling? And I might say just make sure there's some tomic, you know, But otherwise I'll eat whatever is there. I enjoy the gesture whatever it is, but luckily I don't have a lot of opinions about it.
Food does Olivia hunger and I'm quite personally starving. Should we go eat? Yes?
Absolutely, I'd love to thank you so much