Abra Berens - Pulp

Text copyright 2023 by Abra Berens.

Photographs copyright 2023 by EE Berger.

Illustrations copyright 2023 by Lucy Engelman.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.

ISBN 9781797207148 (hardcover)

ISBN 9781797207162 (epub, mobi)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in- Publication Data

Prop contributions from Meilen Ceramics, Debbie Carlos, Monsoon Pottery, Felt + Fat.

Food and prop styling by Mollie Hayward.

Design by Sara Schneider.

Typesetting by Frank Brayton.

Benzomatic is a registered trademark of Worthington Torch, LLC. Diamond Crystal is a registered trademark licensed from Cargill, Inc. Doritos is a registered trademark of Frito Lay. Hudsonville Creamery is a registered trademark of Hudsonville Creamery and Ice Cream Company, LLC. Jell-O is a registered trademark of Kraft Heinz. King Arthur Flour is a registered trademark of King Arthur Baking Company, Inc. Morton is a registered trademark of Morton Salt, Inc. Maldon is a registered trademark of Maldon Crystal Salt Company Limited. Oxo Good Grips is a registered trademark of Helen of Troy Limited.

Chronicle books and gifts are available at special quantity discounts to corporations, professional associations, literacy programs, and other organizations. For details and discount information, please contact our premiums department at corporatesales@chroniclebooks.com or at 1-800-759-0190.

Chronicle Books LLC

680 Second Street

San Francisco, California 94107

www.chroniclebooks.com

Her hand moved behind his head and supported it.

Her fingers moved gently in his hair. She looked up and across the barn, and her lips came together and smiled mysteriously.
John Steinbeck

This book is dedicated to every person who does the often invisible work of bringing food to our tables.

Specifically to those whom Ive had the privilege of working alongside over the years; thank you for making space for me and for teaching me along the way.

foreword

BY TIM MAZUREK

The first time I met Abra, she sold me a pastry. At the time she was working at Chicagos Green City Market selling sweets for our mutual friend Sandras beautiful bakery, Floriole. The pastry in question was a canel, back when they were almost unheard of in the States. We bonded over our love for the custardy little umber-colored cakes, and she explained how they are made at the bakery using lovely copper molds from France. I am struck, in retrospect, by how much was revealed to me in that first brief conversation, which, for the record, Abra does not remember. Abra managed to establish camaraderie, gently educate me, and share excitement and wonder over food in the space of a few minutes. She probably also made a groan-worthy pun that I couldnt help but respect. It was energizing. It made me want to be her friend, which of course is what happened. More than a decade later, we are the best of friends, and I am here writing the foreword to her third cookbook, Pulp .

Pulp follows on the heels of Abras first two books, Ruffage and Grist, completing a kind of trilogy. Like their older siblings, Pulp serves as, among other things, an homage to the agriculture of the Midwest, this time focused on its fruit. (You wont find a citrus chapter here.) The land looms large, and the stories and recipes are rooted in Abras life, which has been spent primarily in Michigan and Chicago. The focus on the Midwest is noteworthy because it is a part of the country that Abra (and I!) love dearly and that remains underrepresented in food media. Few cookbooks originate here, and national media has tended to cover the Midwest condescendingly as a monoculture of hotdish, Jell-O salads, and pathological friendliness. Or with stories of perceived exceptionalismcan you believe this cool ceramicist lives in Michigan?! Yes. Yes, we can. Those of us who live here know that while there may be church potlucks and quilting circles, there are also experimental filmmakers, vegan pastry chefs, and people working to abolish the police. The Midwest, like anywhere, is a complicated convergence of people, cultures, and problems, and it is worth getting to know. But truly understanding anything requires patience, empathy, and effort. It is hard work and takes time, which is why people so often resort to clichs and stereotypesto oversimplification.

Not Abra. The ability to sit with diverse, sometimes-conflicting ideas and seemingly unresolvable problems is one of the things I admire most about her. Instead of resolutions, she strives for understanding and connection. While many of us seek refuge in the black and white, Abra comfortably navigates the gray. She recognizes that solutions to problems, especially in complicated systems like food production, often create their own problems. She supports the work of farmers absolutely, and worked for years as a farmer, but where others might glamorize it, she admits to disliking the work. On a photoshoot for this very book, a Technicolor bag of commercially produced Gushers she picked up at the supermarket sat next to a homemade pie filled with local fruit. Does she contradict herself? Dont we all contain multitudes?

One of the challenges of introducing your friends work, especially as someone prone to hyperbole, is that you might not believe me when I tell you that Abra is my favorite cook, but she is, truly. And I am fortunate to have enjoyed her cooking countless times in settings as diverse as fancy restaurants, lunch counters, and farmers fields. But my favorite meals are the ones she serves at home, in her own kitchen. A meal at Abras is always an exceptionally nice experience that she makes feel totally effortless. When you arrive she is relaxed and focused on you (where I am an anxious and distracted host). There are probably little plates of things to snack on and glasses of wine, and her husband, Erik, has some good music playing. At the right moment she asks if you are ready to eat and then suddenly salads are being plated, a roasting tin pulled from the oven, and youre sitting down to dinner. And of course the food is always memorable and inspiring and prompts you to ask questions, which Abra responds to enthusiastically with details of where the fruit came from or how she makes her pickle brinereminding me always of the first time we met and making me feel pretty smug about my ability to pick friends.

And you should feel pretty good about your choice of cookbook. Pulp is a beautiful ride through the fields, orchards, and kitchens of the Midwest. Here you will find Abra doing what she does best: educating, examining big issues, sharing stories, making dumb jokes, and inspiring you in the kitchen. Shes going to change the way you cook, and maybe even the way you think, not through dictates and demands, but through insight, encouragement, understanding, and connection. Enjoy it.