Jennings - Homegrown: Cooking from the Ocean, Orchard, Forest, and Farm

Matt Jennings

with Jessica Battilana
Photographs by Huge Galdones

For Kate, Sawyer, and Coleman.
You are my sun, moon, and stars.

This is wild country, flavored by the sea and colored by the salt and sun.

Captain John Smith

Contents

Foreword by Andrew Zimmern

I met Matt and Kate Jennings in the fall of 2012. I had arrived in Rhode Island to film an episode of Bizarre Foods, and our first day of primary shooting was to take place at lunchtime at Farmstead, the intimate food shop, bar, and eatery the couple had opened several years earlier. Within those walls, Matt was cooking with a brilliant personal style that I had been following from the sidelines, knowing that one day I would have to tell his story. Farmstead had a reputation as one of Americas best small restaurants, but it was more than that. At Farmstead, they made their own, well, everything. Matt sourced impeccable sustainable ingredients from premium purveyors and turned them into the restaurants stunningly delicious food, the kind of smart, craveable cooking that is his calling card. He cured his own meats and made some of his own cheeses. Kate prepared all the breads, sweets, pastries, jams and jellies, and other provisions. And I came to learn that Kate was the heart of the restaurant. She was her husbands muse, his inspiration, his bellwether. Her presence was a rockhis rock. And thats why the book you hold in your hands is so precious. More on that later.

So I walk into the restaurant, and you have to realize that, Farmstead always had a line out the door; the place was packed. I spot Matt, a larger-than-life presence (although hes not so literally large anymore), taping white butcher paper over the charcuterie, salumi, and cheese displays at the front of the food shop that opened into the dining room. This is bullshit, he says, pushing past me before turning back to give me a trademark Jennings bear hug, and I can see that hes red-faced with frustration. Kate introduces herself to me, smiling a gorgeous smile that does more than just light up a room; it lets you know that everything is all right in the space around her. Its a lantern of serenity in the face of daily restaurant calamity. She shakes her head, following her husband into the kitchen. I have no clue what to do. Ive just met two people I have been wanting to work with for years, and clearly something is wronghorribly, horribly wrong. As our team sweeps in with cameras and cases, light bags and sound gear, a dozen storytellers getting ready for war, Matt emerges from the kitchen, Red Sox cap at a jaunty angle, cracks a huge smile, and tells me that the health inspector, who has given the restaurant nothing but perfect scores since opening day, has now decided to embargo the sale of cured meats and cheeses pending further testing and inspection. For no reason.

My mind switches gears, and I put on my executive producer hat. As a restaurant lifer, I know whats coming next: we will have to come back in a few days when Matt has straightened out this matter and can focus on us. But I am wrong. I didnt know Matt Jennings. After apologizing to a few customers who were in the middle of purchasing some fennel-and-red-wine-infused dry sausage, he shrugs off the turn of events that would have brought most chefs to their knees in panic and offers up an alternative planto go to a local market to film background content and shoot in the restaurant laterthen shoves a hot cup of coffee in my hand as we stream back out onto the street. He spends the next two days working night and day with us, laughing and teaching, cooking and holding forth on all that is great about Rhode Islands food community, and in general treating us like we are the only thing in the world that matters.

Within a few days, all was back to normal at the shop; matters were resolved with the health department, and I knew that I had gained a close friend who to this day will drop anything hes doing if I need a laugh, someone to listen, or occasionally a large shoulder to cry on. Matt Jennings is that kind of guy.

For Matt, the higher calling wasnt me, or the show, or resolving his momentary setback. For him, it was all about keeping his word and making sure that we got what we needed to showcase everything that makes New Englands food culture so remarkable. Its never about him. Over the years, I cant remember ever encountering a chef with less pretension, less ego than Matt. And as you can see in this book, he has every reason to go down the other road. Despite his immense skill set, which dwarfs that of most culinarians, its his humanity that is his greatest asset.

Why does that matter? Why lead with that story and that testimonial? Why should you care about the man when you came for the book, something to cook out of, to learn from, to take inspiration from? Well, its simple, really. Allow me to let you in on a big secret: Life isnt about food. Its about people. Life is about relationships. And if someone is the master of that insight, if they act according to that principle and they happen to be one of the countrys best chefs/restaurateurs, then their food will reflect that philosophy. It will nurture; it wont show off. Matts food comes from the best place possible: his love of people.

There isnt a recipe for life. You simply live the best one you can. And as a culinarian, you demonstrate your love of people by honoring where your feet are planted. You bring joy by sharing food, you stand up for your sense of place, you elevate your provisionersfarmers, fishermen, growersand, most important, your family. Which brings me back to Matts wife, Kate.

This book will teach you how to cook; it reflects the best of modern New England cookery, and the recipes are superbly crafted. What its not is a Farmstead book, or a Townsman book, although it is reflective of some of the food you can get at Matts stellar eatery on the edges of Bostons Chinatown. When I read it for the first time and started cooking out of itI made the Milk-Braised Chicken Legs and the Mussels with Red Curry Broth and Lemongrass, the Calabrian Chile Sausage and the Brown Bread; I made Matts moms clam chowderI realized that this book really is homegrown in every sense of the word. It reflects Matts upbringing in what for him is the only place in the world he wants to be, it celebrates the simplicity and delight of mealtime with his wife and their boys rather than the foods that require a restaurant kitchen and larder, and it is a testament to his love for his wife.

We all cook for someone, and most famous chefs think too much about the customer. If all you do is create with the customer in mind, then you are doomed to fail; in creating food for everyone to enjoy, you often fail to satisfy anyone. You wind up cooking from your head, not your heart. When you cook from a loving place, a place of responsibility for others and their happiness, you develop a personal style. And if you are skilled, then your food will delight your larger audience. I think Matt always cooks for Kate. I think he tosses everything through her like a prism, and it focuses his work around the most important audience of all: the people he loves most. This book wasnt born in a publishers office and subjected to a public relations roundtable to measure its effectiveness. This book truly was grown at home. And because of that,