Firstly, I am a food writer.  I’m not a restaurant critic.  While I am a professional, I’m also only 22 years old, and I’ve only been working in this field for a couple of years.  I personally don’t think that I have the grandiose knowledge or experience that it takes to be a truly effective critic.  Sure, I’ve been eating out for almost 22 years of life, but only recently have a taken a professional interest in the subject, and from that I have learned how to share my experiences via writing.  Sure, one day I’d love to be a Pete Wells or Ruth Reichl, but I have a lot of learning to do first.  And probably a few pants sizes to grow…

So though I’m not assigning star ratings to fine dining establishments, I’ve somehow been able to “make it” as a food writer.  Note: making it in NYC/any creative profession means not being in extravagant debt and having a roof over your head.

Since graduating in May, I’ve taken a pretty untraditional path.  I co-founded a website, and work as a freelancer for various New York City and food publications.  For the NYC publications, I’m a food correspondent,  and for the food publications, I often write about food in NYC.  Funny how that works.

How does that work?  One of two ways: either an editor will send me out on assignment, usually to a restaurant or event, or I’ll eat somewhere or see something and pitch that story for the editor.  After the piece is written and published, I’ll receive a check of a two-figure value. No complaints though, I’m getting paid for eating.

Where does all this food come from?  Again, there are a variety of ways.  I’m not covered by the expense report of a major publication nor am I fiscally prepared to pay my way through secret reviews.  Therefore, I rely on invitations or reach out to businesses that I want to visit, in order to research my pieces.

Is this totally ethical? Well, yes and no. When a restaurant knows a reporter is in its midst, you’re going to be treated much better (think constant wine refills and edible gifts being personally delivered to your table by the chef) and definitely not have the pedestrian experience.  I observe other diners and often speak with them about their meals to try and average the experience.  Also, if the meal is truly excellent, I’ll most likely return soon as a regular, paying customer and get a better gage on the food and dining experience.

And how do I get these invitations? I’m very popular, so really from everywhere! International governments have invited me to eateries that specialize in their cuisines, public relations representatives contact me with story ideas- food is a good exchange for press, and I’m often visiting local venues and introducing myself as a writer usually to warm hospitality and gracious thanks for featuring their business.

I love my ability (and power!) to profile local businesses that I believe in and want to promote, helping them out as much as they’re helping me out by providing me with publishable material to help boost my career!

The post On Being a Professional Eater appeared first on melissabethk.

After my lovely friend Merritt made me a fabulous apron from fabric we’d picked out together in Nantucket, I had no choice but to go into my kitchen/living room and make her something delicious.

The recipe is vegan, one of my roommates is vegan, and I wanted to share.  Alternate version: I’m too cheap to buy eggs.

Ingredients:

3 cups white flour
2 cups white sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
3 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice
1 banana (I microwaved mine for 45 seconds, for softness)
1 can pumpkin puree (15oz)
1 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/3 cup water
chocolate chips (optional)
oatmeal (optional)

Preheat oven to 350. Mix dry ingredients together in bowl. Whisk in the wet ingredients.  Stir until all clumps are removed.  Stir in chocolate chips, if desired.  Pour into two pre-greased loaf pans (or one, if you are too poor to buy a second and want an extra large loaf) and sprinkle with oatmeal.  Put in the oven for an 60-95 minutes, checking with a toothpick every so often to see if the batter sticks.

Let cool and enjoy!

The post Issa Cooks: Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Banana Bread appeared first on melissabethk.

Here are 8 real life events that affected me in October more than a bunch of suits sitting inside all day (or lack thereof):

1. The Time Warner Outage in the East Village.  I’m still not sure if this was 100% true or if everyone’s favorite cable company was just making excuses for their shotty service, but still.  Having to go to Chelsea to use WiFi last weekend was not part of my plan to stay in bed for 48 hours and eat cookies while staring at Pinterest.  A country without internet is a lot scarier than anarchy!

2.  My laptop breaking. My brand new Macbook stopped working.  And the kind people at the genius bar have yet to fix it (maybe because I have yet to pay, but that’s another story).

3. The weather.  It’s been hot. It’s been freezing.  I’ve been carrying coats around various boroughs and freezing to death blocks from home.  Maybe we should focus on the climate crisis post debt-ceiling trauma?

4.  Reading The Interestings.  Yes, I read the news everyday, but I spent more time on this novel than indulging in opinions and “reports” about the qualms of our federal government.

5. Attending a dinner cooked by Helsinki’s greatest chef, chatting with a Danish ambassador, and being gifted a shiny coffeetable book from the Finnish consolate. Face it, some countries are just better than ours.

6. Learning that as a freelance writer, an independent contractor, I’ll have to pay an exorbitant amount of taxes on my (meager) income.  What, exactly, are these taxes going to? And why am I paying taxes to a government that threatens equality with laws regarding marriage and reproductive rights?  I’m highly considering emigrating to Scandinavia.

7. Letting one of the piercings in my lobes close up.  Fixing this is going to take a lot more time, money, and pain than the shutdown cost me.

8.  The invention of wine for cats.  Because now I have a renewed faith in the humanity of our international community.

The post 8 Things that Affected Me More than the Government Shutdown appeared first on melissabethk.

So I mustered up my energy to scavenge through my pantry and fridge, and developed a recipe for healthy, tasty soup that’s easy enough to make when you’re dying of the plague.

Ingredients:

3 tablespoons olive oil
garlic powder and onion powder
2 small potatoes, cubed (peeling optional)
4 quarts of boiling water mixed with 2 tablespoons bouillion
1/2 a bunch of kale, chopped (I used purple kale, just for funsies)
1 zucchini, diced
2 cups of baby spinach, washed
salt and paper to taste

Directions:

Heat a soup pan with oil.  Add cubed potatoes and stir in with garlic and onion powder (because you’re sick, you can’t even tasted the aromatics anyway, they may as well be from a jar…)  After about five minutes when the potatoes start to soften, stir in the kale. As the Kale wilts, stir in the zucchini and and boiling water. Add salt and pepper. Cover and cook on low heat for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. The veggies will have lost a bit of their green color, but don’t worry- the spinach will bring it back!

Let cool for about an hour.  Stir in raw spinach leaves and add soup to a food processor or use an immersion blender to throughly blend all ingredients. Re-heat and you’re ready to eat!

Delicious on its own or topped with crumbly cheese or alongside a crusty bread/saltines.

You’ll be feeling better before you know it!

The post Issa Cooks: Green Magic Soup appeared first on melissabethk.

“If I wanted a stable job I’d be a jockey.” -me, on the state of things in the universe

It’s been two months since I graduated college and my fans (read: friends I neglect to Skype with) are wondering what I’ve been up to.

Rather than getting my Latin Honors tattooed down my arm and prancing around with a fancy job title like “Assistant to Executive” or “Data Expert” or “Entry Level Person in Charge of Corporate Tasks” I’ve chosen the most glamorous title of Writer. Professional Writer, that is.

Yes, readers, I am a writer. A professional writer. Crazy, I know.  The title of student has been ripped away from me, replaced by a diploma I have yet to receive in the mail, and suddenly when people ask what I do I have to tell them something legitimate.

A typical conversation goes like this:

“What do you do?”

“I’m a writer.”

“What do you write?”

“Words.”

It seems that no one really understands what writers do.

With three Columbia friends, I started a culture and lifestyle website, where we aim to put a new spin on media and public relations with local businesses.  It’s been a lot of work and a lot of fun, but we all know that’s not where the money is. If you do however want to invest in/buy NeuralPop for a large sum, let’s talk.   It’s nice to have a place to collaborate and share with a new audience, but often leaves me confused on what I should be personally blogging about here, or what I want to share in my NeuralPop voice over on our website.

In the two and a half months of my professional writing career (because apparently everything published before this doesn’t really count), I’ve learned a few things about becoming a writer.

Firstly, it’s one of the most independent careers you can have.  If I sleep all day and get no work done, it’s pretty much on me.  Unless I have a deadline, which I’m actually pretty good about, thanks to college and stuff. I’m constantly on the job hunt, for contracts and columns, which I actually find pretty fun, as the opportunities are endless.

Everyone’s a writer these days.  Not a good one, necessarily, but you have to make your work stand out, have a particular voice and style.

You can’t just do one thing.  Ideally, I’d be sitting and writing fiction all day.  But no. There’s no money in that.  (And yeah, I’m blaming you, reader who isn’t buying books). But I’ve found creative ways to make money via the written word, without sacrificing too much integrity.

Pieces without bylines will indelibly pay more, but at least it’s good writing practice!  I’ve also been lucky enough to be commissioned to ghostwrite a young adult novel, which isn’t leading to any worldwide book tours, but I’m 22, I can wait a few years.

So yes, world, this is what I’m up to.  Any tips or advice or praise are welcome in the comments!

The post #WHATAMIDOINGWITHMYLIFE appeared first on melissabethk.

But, no, actually, I write this sipping on lemon water, sprawled on on floor, stretching my sore arms and legs. (And no, I did’t fall off a bar stool, come on, guys…)

Last January, aware of my propensity to choose fro-yo over yoga, I signed up for a ballet class, thinking that it would keep me active in the lazy winter months. I loved waking up early on weekends, pulling on tights and an old leotard, and layering sweatpants and old wrap sweaters over my dance clothes to head out in the brisk weather.

I felt like my old self.

I used to think I’d be a professional dancer– click that link if you want to hear about my (spoiler alert) failed dance career. More than that, I was a quadruple threat: actor, singer, model– any job looking pretty in the spotlight was mine. This path only made sense, considering my talent and good looks.

But somehow, books and education and goals to make money (ha! I’m a professional blogger! laugh away, dusty dance shoes)  led me to an Ivy League school to pursue a career not in the performing arts.

At the end of high school, I went from spending countless hours a week in dance, singing, and acting classes, as well as performance groups, to just, well not.  Time was spent with friends and new hobbies, and while I still loved the performing arts, not choosing a career on stage gave me no reason to continue my training.  The skills were useless.  I had deluded myself.

But signing up for that ballet class in January had nothing to do with my goals to be applauded by an audience, to appear in a Playbill, be photographed on stage. The ballet class was about a love of ballet, for it’s own sake.

If someone had told me how much fun adult ballet classes are, I never would have stopped training.

Adult classes are comprised of a motley crew: retired professionals, younger dancers who aspired to dance professionally but never did, and those of all ages, who are just learning to dance properly for the first time.  But it seems that no one cares.  We’re all just there for our own reasons, for a love of the exercise, the art, or a combination, we mind our own business, with no goals of auditioning for prestigious ballet companies or fighting for the coveted solos at the end of year concert.  We were all colors of tights and hairstyles and leg warmers, and only sometimes do we get scolded for leaning against the barre in class.

I love ballet for its discipline.  I love quickly remembering the barre combinations in French, having to concentrate on each part of my body- head up, arms strong, tummy in, hips out, knees straight, toes pointed- and clear almost all other thoughts from my head.

I’m not the worst in class, but I’m certainly not the best.  Names of steps sound familiar to me, but I can’t remember how to do them, or how to properly position my body to dance them gracefully. I’m not as flexible as I was or should be nor am I as strong or balanced.

Knowing that with continuous practice I may beat my old self, become a better dancer than I ever was inspires me.  Knowing that if I never improve it will be of no consequence keeps me going back to the school at the Joffrey Ballet each week. Knowing that you can just do something for the love of it, without an external pressure or major life consequences, is freeing and beautiful, and a lovely thing to remember when I perhaps pick up improv or tennis again…

I may not remember the choreography across the floor each class, but at least I enjoy leaping through the air as I cross.

The post Back at the Barre appeared first on melissabethk.

Ingredients:

1 bunch kale
2 tbs olive oil
2 ears of corn
salt and pepper, to taste

Heat oil in hot frying pan.  Cut kale into one-inch slices.  Add to pan and saute until leaves begin to wilt.  Remove from heat and slice kernels off the corn cob and add to greens. Toss and season to taste.  Yum!

Salad lasts up to three days in the fridge and is delicious cold or room temperature.

The post Issa Cooks: Kale and Corn Salad appeared first on melissabethk.

Therefore, I’m now defaulting to this recipe for avocado.

Buy an avocado.  Slice it in half (perhaps even with the back of the spoon).  Eat with spoon. Repeat as necessary.

Perfection.

The post Heat Wave Cooking: Avocado appeared first on melissabethk.

In an afternoon attempt to do something crafty without adding to the clutter already crowding my tiny apartment, I decided that constructing a shelf was in order.

Constructing and I don’t get along. My dad is a structural engineer, and spent endless hours helping me build the Ikea furniture I ordered last year for my apartment. And by helping, I mean DJ-ing/bartending/being an open audience for expletives resulting from mildly comprehensive instruction manuals.

Anyways, after endless hours in my closet-room building the essentials, the shelf was abandoned in the back of my closet.

In my first building attempt I thought I’d outsmart the enclosed screws, using double-sided wall tape to put the brackets on the walls.

Needless to say, I had barely descended from the ladder as the plastic and wood pieces came crashing down, snowing little splinters of white plaster in my hair.

Expletive number one.

I threw away the now un-sticky tape and opened the bag of screws.  This detail may be obvious, but I do not own a screwdriver.  Or a hammer.  Or really anything that one would need to construct something.

I aligned a single screw in a bracket and attempted to screw it in with my fingers.  Nothing.  I pounded on the top of the screw with an aluminum Sigg waterbottle, forcing it into the wall.  Success! I finished screwing it in with a tweezers and an eyebrow scissors and repeated for the second side.  The brackets had room for two screws, but the wooden shelf balanced with just one, so yet again, I had outsmarted Ikea.

I aligned some boots on top and ran out to show my roommate my handiwork. Before I could even Instagram my project, two screws, more plaster snow, and five very stylish pairs of shoes flew off the wall, over my head, and into my bed. Awesome.

Retiring from my short-lived carpentry career, I began stuffing my winter shoes into my storage unit, a far easier task than making more storage space.

As I stuffed in my last pair of boots behind my duffle bag, I found a few screws and other metal things leftover from my dad’s furniture building last year.

I ate a cupcake, and climbed the ladder again, this time placing the brackets slightly closer together, and using two screws on each side, following the bottle-hammer, hand-screwing, tweezer-tightening method. I put the board on top, added some folded sweaters, and voila!  The shelf was built, and has stayed up for days!

The post Feminist Deed of the Day: I Built a Shelf! appeared first on melissabethk.

• Start a kitchen fire by dumping a package of spaghetti directly on the burner.
• Break our microwave because it was giving off strange vibes. And scents.
• Turn off the dryer with my roommate’s wet laundry in it because it sounded like a baby puppy was trapped inside.
• Piss off a neighbor by making it rain on him while watering my fire escape plants.
• Spill a bottle of red wine.
• Wash my hair in the sink because taking a shower is too much effort.

I should not be left at home unattended.

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