It's hard to write after gorging on food ideas. I've just finished reading Emily Kaiser Thelin's book, "Unforgettable: The Bold Flavors of Paula Wolfert's Renegade Life," (Grand Central Life & Style, 2017), which is packed with wild tales and high-flavor recipes from one of the most colorful, influential and lesser-known American food writers.
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Wolfert wrote nine books, including "Couscous and Other Good Food from Morocco" (1973) and "The Cooking of Southwest France" (1983, reissued in 2005). Her legacy includes a rugged pursuit of authentic flavors, a depth of understanding and conveyance of French cuisine, a finesse in using - and popularizing - traditional ingredients such as handmade couscous from Morocco and mild Aleppo peppers from Syria, and her occasional willingness to make vegetables a main dish ("Mediterranean Grains and Greens," 1988).
"Paula's foundational role in these trends is little known," writes Thelin. "She was so far ahead of her time, her achievements have become obscured, even forgotten."
Imagine a young woman in the exploratory 1960s, leaving behind
Brooklyn, New York home, where she was raised on cottage cheese, melon and other elements of her mom's diet foods, and landing in Tangier with her first husband. The couple was not just part of the Beat Generation, but also its inner circle with Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac and a community of gay friends.
Between literary jobs for libraries and publishing houses, Wolfert made languages and food her specialties in Morocco's international city, even after her husband left her and their two children. She learned to cook from the locals, something she continued to do in France, Syria, Greece and other Mediterranean countries.
"Unforgettable," biographer Thelin interspersed recipes as signposts in Wolfert's culinary life, dishes such as Wild Greens Jam, Easy Oven Duck Confit, Greek Butter-Almond Cookies with Ouzo, and dozens more.
How influential was Wolfert? The new book has testimonials from Alice Waters, Jacques Pepin and Ruth Reichl -- each of whom considers her a friend as well as an influence. If Julia Child were alive, she'd likely chime in, too, since Wolfert translated a cookbook by one of Child's early partners, Louisette Bertholle.
On Monday, May 7, Wolfert will be honored by the James Beard Foundation with a lifetime achievement award. For some readers, including this writer, her influence was personal. She earned gratitude from cooking novices seeking authentic kitchen adventures. Her challenging cookbooks educated with their explanations and satisfied with memorable flavors. The apron she wears on the cover of "Unforgettable" says, "Keep calm and follow the recipe."
Why was she lesser-known? In part, explains Thelin, because she was more obsessed with finding work and the right recipes than finding fame. She also was nervous, had impaired depth perception, and didn't drive a car. In the last several years, she's been wrestling with dementia and says she's determined to keep it at bay through diet and exercise.
Thelin first tried to sell the biography to five publishers, with no luck. Then she set up a Kickstarter campaign to self-publish. It worked, and the book was re-published late last year by Grand Central Life & Style.
Wolfert agreed to a telephone interview from her home in Sonoma last week, but first handed the line to her second husband, novelist Bill Bayer.
"He's from Cleveland," she said, "and he's excited you're calling."
Bayer said he grew up on Fairmount Boulevard and Fairhill Road, the son of Leo Bayer and screenwriter Eleanor (Rosenfeld) Perry, before heading to Harvard and starting his career in film and writing.
"I'd like to write a memoir of my life in Cleveland in the 1940s and 1950s," he said before dashing off.
When Wolfert returned, she was almost giddy to talk about her life. She remembers being a cooking student and assistant who was taken under James Beard's wing. Beard got her a job as a line cook at the Four Seasons hotel in New York City, but she angered him when she left for Tangier instead. They later made peace.
"I was young and I wanted to do other things," she said on the phone. "I didn't think I was a chef. I worked as a chef and I was OK. But I wanted to go and learn. I'm a storyteller. I never wanted a TV show. It wasn't about the money, it was about the learning.
"There were so few people in food writing back then," she added. "It's not like now when there are so many talented people out there.
"My point of view was, 'This is the way I saw it done by the best cooks I could find.' I would learn some of their language before I got there, made contact with people before I went.
"And when I'd talk to a group of women, I'd ask which of them had the best recipe for something. Even if they didn't answer, I could tell. All eyes would go to the one who was best."
The book recounts a life of struggles and successes including menu consulting to German hotel chefs in the Philippines, touring the United States to teach her method of hand-rolling and steaming couscous (pearled pasta), and being flown in by Mediterranean governments who knew she could shine a spotlight on their cuisine.
She doesn't regret losing those heydays.
"Then the chefs came into popularity," she said. "They became the big power. That's the way it should be, anyway."
Two things helped her stand out, she said. One was respecting her innate curiosity, and the other was taking the less-traveled road.
"When all the food writers were going to Tuscany, I'd point myself in the other direction," she said. "What's the point of writing about the same thing everybody else is writing about?
"Unless I can get a better recipe," she added.