MORE FOOD AND A WORKSHOP
with Darien Gee and me
I love to eat and I love to cook. Sometimes I eat the same thing for days. Recently, it’s been polenta. I can eat polenta for a week—sometimes accompanied with garlic and fire roasted tomatoes, maybe a few shallots, some chili crisp. After a few days, I’ll make more polenta, cool it in a baking pan to slice and fry up in butter and eat with syrup. I tell myself how good cornmeal is for me. Then I eat nothing but broccoli rabe for three days. I am old enough to eat whatever I want, whenever I want it. Anyway, that’s what I tell myself, and it’s how I behave.
My mother was of the generation that first had at its disposal frozen foods, and already had their choice of canned everything. Honestly, even our potatoes came from a can, already peeled and cooked. Ghastly, but we didn’t know better. Our mother’s basic kitchen tool was a can opener. We feasted on canned ravioli. Canned spinach. TV dinners arrived next. We even had our favorite ones. It makes me shudder now, But I know I loved them too.The one thing our mother enjoyed making was fudge. Sometimes she poured it over marshmallows. Her mother’s hand written recipe included the instruction: ”Cook until the bubbles look as though they don’t want to burst.”
I didn’t know what a scallion was until my twenties, but I already loved doing my own cooking. My ancient copy of The Joy Of Cooking, has several pages blurred by chocolate cake batter, almost glued together. That’s one way to know how to quickly find page you want.
Darien Gee knows a host of foods I know nothing about. I bet she’s a good cook, and I know she and her family sometimes take turns making the evening meals. Her recipes fascinate me. I would love to fly to Hawaii and watch her cook Lion’s Head. I would eat it, too, as she has assured me there is not a particle of lion in this recipe. I plan to learn a lot. I’ll be taking notes, new ways of cooking food, and new food to cook. Too bad ZOOM doesn’t include a kitchen we could just reach into and taste everything. Speaking of kitchens, what does yours look like? Did you inherit recipes from your mothers, or fathers, or grandparents? What did you do the first time you were presented with a plate of food you didn’t recognize? Ask what it was, or just dig in? I’m already curious about what memories accompany what you eat, and what you ate. Maybe I’ll finish the cookbook I always wanted to write. It was to be called The Goy of Cooking. I did send it to a publisher who liked it, but said it needed more recipes. That was a hundred years ago.
Course description:
Hello writers!
What do we remember when we eat the food we love? What do we create for ourselves — and for others — one meal at a time?
In this intimate, generative workshop, bestselling memoirist Abigail Thomas and award-winning author Darien Gee invite you to write short, vivid micro memoirs drawn from meals, kitchens, and the people who gathered around them. We’ll explore how food carries memory, how family and friendship live inside ordinary moments, and how nourishment extends far beyond the plate.
Bring a favorite recipe — handwritten, remembered, or improvised — as inspiration for one of several guided exercises. Through focused prompts, instructor examples, and small-group breakout conversations, you’ll discover how a single bite can hold a whole story. We’ll also consider how these brief pieces can be shared — as keepsakes, notes to someone you love, or small offerings that preserve a moment before it disappears.
The day of our workshop, Sunday, March 29, 2026 | 1-5 pm ET. I hope you’ll join us.
The Goy of Cooking: no sour cream, nothing deeply browned. My Jewish grandmother looked down her nose at “goyish” food. But if you write it, Abby, count me in.
I'm looking forward to Sunday. Food, cooking, recipes, all such a big part of my life.