How it all began
Annie & Alison Newsletter #27
In early January 2021, my friend Jessie and I had a conversation about creating artistic goals. Both of us spent most of our college experience in the theater, honing our acting skills and collaborating with a group of 40 other art-makers. Since those days of devoted theater-making, we’ve tried to find gentle and fulfilling ways to incorporate our artist-selves back into our regular routines.
With a “new year, new me” mentality, I asked Jessie to give me an “artistic assignment,” and hold me accountable to finishing it. She emailed me this prompt: “Every day for a week, write 3 pages.”
I opened my laptop and began typing. Instead of laboring over a topic, I chose to write about what I know. I had just cooked several Alison Roman recipes for the first time, including her Tomato-y White Beans. So I wrote about beans. The day I decided I loved them in the Del Taco parking lot. How I practically lived on beans alone my first year out of college. My experience of cooking Alison’s Tomato-y White Beans. I finished and read it over. Who knew I had so much to say about beans?
The next day, I followed the same format and wrote about another recipe. By the end of the week, I had about 15 single-spaced pages of writing about food in a Google doc. The act of writing, regularly and without judgment or laboring over every sentence, felt freeing. I didn’t want to stop. That’s when it occurred to me — why not make this assignment last all year? My wheels started turning, and I decided on “Annie & Alison: A Food Blog,” modeled after “Julie & Julia.” (If you haven’t seen the movie, kindly cancel your plans and watch it now.)
Within a few days, I created a webpage on my portfolio website, bought VSCO Cam for $19.99 to edit pictures on my phone, and wrote a short list of rules to hold myself accountable to the what and why of what I set out to accomplish: cook through both of Alison Roman’s cookbooks in 365 days, and write an essay about each recipe and whatever it inspired.
On January 27, I posted my first recipe essay. Those first few weeks were exhilarating. I had so much zeal for taking pictures of every single recipe step. I cooked and wrote multiple essays a day, enough to schedule out at least a week of content ahead of time. As the days wore on, the fun became balanced with the challenge of it all. Not that this project lost its shine — I promise, I’m truly still having a good time almost a year later. But the seriousness of committing to something big, and following through when it isn’t convenient or when you feel like taking a week off — I felt that challenge more prominently than ever before.
I made this project public so I could have accountability. What I didn’t anticipate were the fun connections I’d make with other cooks along the way. I also couldn’t foresee what a joy writing these newsletters would become. They’ve given me the chance to write about topics other than food and receive a lot of encouragement from many of you. The challenge has been very well worth the reward.
Recently, quite a few people have asked me about my process and how I chose when to make each recipe. I’ll review those topics in upcoming newsletters.
STATUS UPDATE: 210 recipes cooked, 15 to go. 13 days left!
Some highlights since the last newsletter:
During the last few weeks of cooking… (I unwillingly joined the ranks of the covid-Christmas crew, and thus, had much unforeseen quarantine/media-consumption/cooking time.)
I learned… how not to make pudding from scratch, that matzo brei (a Jewish dish with egg soaked matzo crackers and applesauce) might not look pretty, but it sure tastes fantastic, and that I can only eat hot shrimp. Cold shrimp just won’t fly for me.
I watched… Don’t Look Up, Tick, Tick… Boom!, almost all of the Friday Night Lights series (omg), White Lotus, the Harry Potter Reunion Special (it WAS special!), and the Friends Reunion Special.
I listened… to José Gonzalez’s album, “Local Valley,” on repeat for a whole week. I could listen to nothing else. This album wavered between serving my ability to focus on work and comforting me when I couldn’t get anything else done.
xo,
Annie