THE MUSE #112
In this edition: News from Witch Mountain and the pre-production solution to your cooking and meal prep problems.
Witch Mountain Pilot Greenlit at D+
Bryce Dallas Howard to Lead Cast
Disney+ has given a formal pilot order to Witch Mountain, a reimagining of the popular film franchise. Bryce Dallas Howard (“Jurassic World” franchise, “Rocketman”) will lead the cast of the pilot, with Isabel Gravitt (“The Watcher”), Levi Miller (“Streamline”), Bianca “b” Norwood (“WeCrashed”) and Jackson Kelly (“Straight Man”) also set as series regulars.
Co-written by duo Travis Fickett and Terry Matalas, , the series is a modern reinvention of the cult classic that takes place in the shadow of Witch Mountain, following two teens, Tia (Gravitt) and Ben (Miller) that develop strange abilities and discover their sleepy suburb may not be as idyllic as it seems. Read the full announcement on Deadline.
Photos: Art Streiber for Universal Pictures and Amblin Entertainment; Cathryn Farnsworth; Luke Fontana; Thomas Brunot; Andrew Steinman
Newsworthy & Opinions
Studio Ghibli announced that renowned filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki will release a new film titled How Do You Live in Japanese theaters on July 14, 2023.
“I don’t actually care who wins the World Cup, but I do call myself a fan. Even though I know little about soccer, I love the complex and ardent interplay of bodies.” Choreographer Annie-B Parson explains why soccer is a dance.
TV Has Always Disappeared. This Feels Different. TV Critic Kathryn VanArendonk breaks down the feeling of growing instability across streaming platforms. “There is no getting around the sensation of having and then losing something.”
Lessons & Recipes from the Heirloom: “The Pre-Production of Cooking”
A guide to making cooking the best part of your multi-hyphenate practice by Jack Piscitelli Dahill
“The first supermarket supposedly appeared on the American landscape in 1946. That is not very long ago. Until then, where was all the food? Dear folks, the food was in homes, gardens, local fields, and forests. It was near kitchens, near tables, near bedsides. It was in the pantry, the cellar, the backyard.” ~ Joel Salatin
So. There I am. In my kitchen. It’s cold. And I’m still early in my culinary journey.
I’m hungry. Very hungry. I yearn to create something, something to satisfy. I open the fridge, there’s nothing there. Well, not nothing; there’s ketchup and mustard, a jar of pickles, some milk for the coffee, and a bottle of wine I’ve been saving for when there’s a particularly rough day at work; loose carrots from the last time I made carrots, which is, let’s be honest, god knows when — well, god and maybe the carrots, who look rather limp; half a head of cabbage left over from the time I made sauerkraut, turning brown at the edges; a jar of leftovers that are far too long in the tooth to be a viable option. Perhaps the freezer holds more goodies. Alas! Half a tray of ice and a mostly eaten pint of ice cream.
My eyes scan to the counter. On it sits my phone and in my phone lies the vastness of New York City’s restaurants, many of which would be more than happy to — dare I say it — deliver! Oh how wonderful. Fresh professionally made food, right to my doorstep, because after all, I’m worth it aren’t I? I work hard and I deserve to treat myself to something nice once and a while. I pull up the menu of a local joint on one of the many apps, I make my selection, I add a side (see the aforementioned “I’m worth it” clause). I put in my address and get the final page. I scan down to the bottom… to the price.
Now here is the thing. The price is not unreasonable for what I’m asking to happen. A restaurant makes my dinner, a feat that is worth fairly compensating all those involved. Then, once the culinary masterpiece is crafted, I’m asking them to package it up and have someone on a motorized bicycle zip through the streets of New York City to deliver it, safe and warm, to my home. This person also deserves to be fairly compensated for risking life and limb to make my dining experience as free from tedium as possible. And you know what? I order it. And it arrives 30 minutes later. And I eat it with a smile on my face.
Something is missing. Yes, I’ve solved the hunger problem that drove me to my kitchen in the first place, but — well you know what’s missing. The act of creation. I’ve alienated myself from my dining experience. If I wanted to go out to a restaurant that would be one thing. It’s a joy to dine out, to experience a restaurant in its totality. But to rip the heart out of a dining establishment and plop it on my home-bound table? It doesn’t feel right. This meal yearns to be enjoyed in a low lit room with a steady din about us and a bartender cracking jokes behind the bar. Warm like the restaurant and the bodies huddled around. This food, however, is slightly chilled by the late fall air, and the crispy skin of the pork has become soft, gently steamed in its to-go box. More and more I have come to the conclusion that when eating at home, you should cook at home, so when you make the proactive decision (not the hungry decision) to have someone else cook for you, you can truly enjoy it.
Let’s look back at the start of this story. I couldn’t have cooked with what I had in my apartment. I would have had to go to the store, and that sullen trek through the cold, into a fluorescent storefront, is a barrier to entry that most (myself included) don’t want to have to deal with when hungry. So what are we as chefs to do? Planning far ahead is wonderful in theory, and I have many friends who swear by meal prepping and trips to Costco with the roommates to ensure that they always have ingredients on hand. And for those of you that like that, I wish you well. My pre-production looks slightly different. It allows me to have a creative improvisation with my dinner, and that method hinges on changing the way I view my plate. Just like learning to treat a frame of a movie as a painting, a snapshot, a moment of inspiration, I needed to view my plate as a work of art.
As a kid, the plates that my parents made were always delicious and varied, widely based on what was in season and what the family was in the mood for. However, they often followed a formula, based loosely on the food pyramids of my parents’ youth. The plate would be divided into three portions: starches/cereals, fruits/vegetables, and meat. There was much joy in this scaffolding as it allowed experimentation while also ensuring a stability to dinner and nutrition. But this meant that once I was on my own in the kitchen, if I didn’t have a piece of meat to cook or a head of broccoli to sauté, I felt like my dinner was missing a major focal point.
That is until I was introduced to Abby Sharp. One day I came home and Sage (my partner) was watching a YouTube video of a registered dietitian who was talking about what she called the Hunger Crushing Combo™. This was a radically different way of thinking about a plate to me. Suddenly anything could be a meal, so long as it had the three pillars: protein, fiber, and healthy fats. This shift in my thinking reframed what a plate could look like, what sort of picture I might paint. It opened up the possibilities of how to experiment and improvise in the kitchen. Just like a painter has preferences on which paints they use and a musician which instruments, I (and now you) have preferences on which foods we want to lean on to crush our hunger, to feed ourselves and each other.
I began to think, then, about how to stock my culinary studio. I split my pantry into two categories: staples and produce. Staples cover all three of the food categories Abby talks about, but they all share something else in common: longevity. I stock up on beans and canned fish for protein, bags of rice and farro for fiber, hummus, nut butters, yogurt, and olive oil for healthy fats. All of these things, when unopened, have beefy shelf lives, at least a month and up to a year. This means that I can buy them in bulk and store them away for when I need them. On any given night I can pull together any combination of these staples to make a meal that satisfies me, emotionally and physically, and fills up my belly and my heart, leaving me nourished and warmed.
Condiments too are staples. Mayo, mustards, ketchup, miso, capers, olive oil, hot sauce, and vinegars — anything that can add some healthy fats and make a collection of foods really feel like a meal. The difference between fish straight out the can and adding a dash of horseradish mustard or some capers is staggering. The difference between a scene that hasn’t been sound mixed and color corrected and one that has is vibrancy, an aural heartbeat, and a rhythm and soul.
Cooking staples to me also include spices and cooking fats. Salt and pepper will take you very far but investing in spice blends that incorporate your favorite flavors is a) more economical than buying all the commensurate parts and b) easier to manage if you’re low on drawer space like I am. Some of my favorites lately have been Italian Mix, Berbere Spice, and Sate Seasoning. Cooking fats like butter or ghee, or any of the oils from avocado to olive to canola, add a depth of flavor and can transform a head of lettuce into a proper salad.
And speaking of lettuce, that brings me to the non-staple section of my pantry, the produce side of things. These are things like fruits and vegetables, raw meat, fresh breads, and herbs. These are the things that vary season to season. These are what make my meals really shine. They are the sorts of ingredients with which I find myself most excited to cook. Yes, the staples are tried and true but a fresh summer tomato from North Jersey? A hearty late fall squash from the Hudson Valley? A mackerel straight from The Great South Bay? These are the pastels and oils I yearn to paint with, the dialogue with which I yearn to pepper a solid plot, the great actors that directors love to inspire. They are the chords that composers weave into motifs that move from concerto to concerto. They are the stars of the show.
As a result of my excitement around these ingredients, I end up going to get produce about twice a week, both to ensure freshness and to pique my creativity. So often do I need to actually see an ingredient (this week it was limes) to be reminded of just how much I love cooking with it. The same goes with art. Often, as artists, we must do the consistent, day to day work of our staple ingredients. We must sit down and create, with all our knowledge urging us forwards. But we also need a spark. We must listen to the voices on the subway, watch the leaves falling in the park, take a dip in the ocean, and use these seasonal moments, this produce, this spark that leads to magic, in the kitchen and in art.
Other than food, there isn’t much by way of hardware that one would need to make sure the production can get on without a hitch. A cast iron skillet may sound daunting but really it’s not, I promise. It’s a cliché but there’s no way around it. You can use it on the stovetop and in the oven and that fact alone opens up a myriad of culinary possibilities. There’s a reason it’s the only pan my grandparents ever used. Plus, a quick YouTube search will yield many videos on how to season and clean it properly. If you feel like going the extra mile, a dutch oven would be the other thing that’s worth investing in. But those two vessels, a spatula, a wooden spoon, a knife (nothing fancy, anything that cuts will do), a cutting board, oven mitts, and you’re good to go.
So let’s go back to that chilly night. My hunger is there — it beckons — but now so are all the tools needed to craft a beautiful dinner. I’ve set myself up for success by doing the pre-production of cooking by taking the time to adorn my studio with all that I might need. I can let my creativity flourish as I whirl about. And each time I dance in my studio, I learn more about my space, myself. The flame pattern of each burner is just as important as the color temperature of light to a gaffer. My cast iron’s season is just as critical as any painter's easel. The spices I use are as personal to me as Edward Hopper’s shadows to him. And when my song is sung, I will be performer and audience, watcher and watched, as I sit down, and enjoy my meal, a piece of art that is as essential to life as any other.
This Week’s Recipe: Dinner for a Dark and Cold Weeknight
What You’ll Need…
Plenty of room for experimentation in this one folks — this is your time to look into your fridge and your hearts, and shine. I have nothing but faith in you.
A Grain/Starch
Rice, Farro, Couscous, Potatoes
Root Vegetables
Carrots, Turnips (the kind you can eat raw, look for salad varieties like Scarlett Queen or Hakurei), Radishes, Etc.
Canned Protein
Canned Fish
Stay away from tuna, it’s bad for the ocean; opt for sardines, mackerel, anchovies, or any of those other “undesirable” fish)
Beans
Chickpeas are my favorite, but red beans, black beans, pinto, hell! even lentils (although that’s a legume), truly any sort of bean will work
Canned/Bagged Chicken
Not my jam but plenty of people rock with it
You get the picture
Condiments
Mayo, Mustard (I’m a big fan of horseradish mustard these days, goes great with an oily fish), Ketchup, Olive Oil, Pickles/Capers (or just their Brine), Hummus, Yogurt, Etc.
Salad Greens
Arugula, Spinach, Mustard Greens, Spring Mixes, Lettuce Mixes
Go to the Farmers Market and get yourself a bag of greens. Often the farmers have premixed them for you, or you can go crazy and get two different types and mix and match. They’ll last way longer than grocery store greens — I’m talking 2-3 weeks in the fridge. Perfect for when you need to scrounge something together.
Fresh Produce. This one is super optional, but it does add a nice dash of something special to dinner.
Avocados, Lemons, Limes, Bell Peppers, Fresh Herbs (Dill, Parsley, Basil, Cilantro)
Spices
How To Make…
I start with the grains/starch. If it’s potatoes I cut ‘em up and throw them in a 425 degree oven until they’re done (they’ll be crispy on the bottom and soft when pierced by a fork). Budget at least 25 minutes for this, depending on how big the pieces are. If you’re doing a grain like rice or couscous just follow the instructions on the bag.
Put the canned protein of your choice into a bowl, mix it up with the condiments of your choice, making a riff off of a classic tuna salad. Think a mix of brightness, brininess, salt, and fat.
Prep your greens and fresh produce however you like, be that chopping up or leaving whole, or anything in between.
Perhaps make a little sauce with some of the condiments? Often my partner will make a simple tzatziki (no cucumbers necessary, the fatter and funkier the yogurt, the better) while I tend to opt for making a spicy mayo.
Once the grains/starch are done, layer them on the bottom of your plate or bowl. Add the rest of your ingredients how you see fit. Now would be the perfect time for that sauce you made. And if you didn’t, maybe just some olive oil and brine for a nice twist on the oil and vinegar classic.
Enjoy.
Jack Piscitelli Dahill (he/him) is a 2021 Nine Muses Lab Fellow and interdisciplinary storyteller who believes in “following the fun.” His interests lie in twisting traditional archetypes and narratives to shine light on how humor elicits the most profound empathy. He believes that food is the base of shared human experience, and through exploration of the artistry of food we can find a radical connection to each other.
“I wish you a wrestling match with your Creative Muse that will last a lifetime. ... I wish craziness and foolishness and madness upon you. May you live with hysteria, and out of it make fine stories — science fiction or otherwise. Which finally means, may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.”
Newsletter run by Nia Farrell, Director of Development & Production at Nine Muses Entertainment
