In this episode of Five Rules for the Good Life, I head to the Hudson Valley to hang out with food writer, photographer, gardener, forager, and fermenter Peter Barrett. He shares his Five Rules for Nurturing a Real Cooking Practice. We talk about why growing even one herb on a windowsill can change the way you think about food, why practice matters more than perfection, how to stop hiding behind cookbooks, and why taking a food Sabbath can make the rest of your week easier. It’s a conversation about cooking with intention, but also about building a life that feels more connected, more grounded, and a little less performative.
The best cooking habits are the ones that fit your actual life, not the fantasy version of it. Not everyone is going to mill flour, tend a massive garden, or spend Sunday making twelve jars of pickles, and that’s fine. Sometimes the win is roasting one chicken, growing basil in a pot, or learning three meals you can make without thinking. The point is not to turn your kitchen into a stage set for Instagram, it’s to create a rhythm that supports you. Cooking should lower the temperature of your life, not raise it. It should make your week easier, your table fuller, and your relationship to food more personal. The goal is not perfection. It’s finding a way of feeding yourself that feels sustainable, satisfying, and yours.
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Introduction
Hello and welcome to Five Rules for the Good Life. I’m your host, Darin Bresnitz.
Today, I head up to the Hudson Valley to sit down with food writer, photographer, gardener, forager, and fermenter, Peter Barrett, who’s here to share his 5 Rules for Nurturing a Real Cooking Practice.
He talks about how growing just one thing can change your perspective on life, that there is no excuse for giving up on yourself in the kitchen without loads of practice, and that being gentle on yourself when it comes to cooking is a real recipe for success.
This is a great interview for anyone who’s looking to get started in the kitchen or for anyone who’s hit a lull and looking to find some new inspiration.
So let’s get into the rules.
Peter’s Journey
Peter, so good to see you.
I can’t believe it’s already been a few months. Thanks for making time for the show.
That’s my pleasure. Thanks for having me.
You’ve spent decades growing and foraging and preserving, cooking as much of your own food as possible. What drives you to do this?
I was in the artwork. I moved up to the Hudson Valley from Brooklyn 20 years ago now. I put in a garden. It was one of the first things I did.
My grandfather had taught me to make pickles when I was a little kid because he was from Poland. And when he grew up, that was a survival strategy. That had nothing to do with hipsters or yuppies or anything. It was staying alive through a long, hard winter.
I just got more and more into the growing and the cooking and the fermenting. And I started to learn about mushrooms and other wild edible things.
I started writing a blog just as a sort of journal to keep track of my kitchen exploits. And then over the course of the ensuing years, I just did more and more of that.
I got one magazine gig, then another magazine gig. I’m working on a book with Dominique Crenn right now. We’re supposed to go to France next month.
So it just sort of morphed. As the art tapered off, the food thing sort of rose to meet it.
Cooking Across Countries
You’ve cooked a lot in America, in the Hudson Valley, and you’ve been able to travel to Italy and go into France with Dominique Crenn.
Country to country, do you find a difference in this type of approach of growing and preserving and really understanding the food that you eat?
It’s simplistic, but I think places that have winter have different fermentation cultures than places that don’t.
You can’t f**k around with the absence of food when the ground is frozen, of course.
If you think about Korea and Northern Europe, Eastern Europe, the pickle game is strong, and the pickle game is strong because they had to.
There’s what they call sottoglio in Italian, which is where they preserve things under oil, or sottaccetto, which is in jars of vinegar.
You wander around in most parts of Italy, south of Alto Adige, and everyone has a garden that’s more or less year-round.
It’s a different approach to preservation. It’s less mandatory and baked into the cuisine, if that makes any sense.
Why Sharing Matters
One of the things I’ve loved about your writing and your storytelling is that you really want to share this knowledge with people across the world and people who want to get into this type of practice themselves.
Why is that so important to you to share this knowledge and to teach people that they can get started, even if it seems daunting at first?
Honestly, because I’m sitting here right now talking to you on the basis of my self-guided passion.
I am driven to learn about food because I love it, because it fascinates me, whether it’s wild food, domestic food, different processes, transforming it with microbes or other preservation methods.
My kitchen has now taken the place of my studio. It feels the way my studio used to when I was a painter. It’s just incredibly exciting to me. It’s fun.
Food intersects with every other area of human endeavor. What’s your specialty? What’s your aptitude? What’s your passion? Food intersects with it.
And so there’s always a way to reach people by relating via food.
And I, because I’m a self-taught home cook, I can meet people where they are because I don’t speak. I mean, I speak tweezer, but I do not use tweezer, if you know what I’m saying.
Rule One: Grow Something
That democratic approach, that self-starting nature of learning to cook, the fact that you didn’t go to culinary school is so common among so many people who love food today, which is why I’m so excited for you to share your five rules for nurturing a real cooking practice.
It’s easy to look at Instagram and see these gorgeous gardens and these well manicured plots, and it can be daunting to even get started.
And your first rule talks about the idea of just making something happen with your own hands. What’s your rule number one?
Rule number one is grow something.
I have a ridiculously big garden. But if you go to the very far other end of the spectrum, you have a sunny windowsill. Grow a pot of chives, grow one thing.
Parsley doesn’t need a whole lot of light. If you’ve got a little more space, grow a few pots, even just herbs.
If you have a fire escape, you could even upgrade to a little pot of hot peppers or cherry tomatoes, which do well in containers.
Nurturing another living thing, even if you don’t have kids, even if you don’t have pets, nurturing a living thing is good for you.
I use my lawn the same way. I don’t spray anything because it’s insanity to spray poison on your lawn.
Dandelions are one of my favorite examples of wild food that everybody understands, everybody recognizes it, and they’re really f*****g good to eat and good for you.
A lot of what I come to share about food is that all these win-win scenarios involving simplicity, frugality, ancient technologies for preservation that also add nutritional value, and they connect you to your food.
Connecting you to your food is a way to further your own human connection.
So if you can start from nothing to something, grow one more thing than you currently are growing.
Rule Two: Practice
Getting started is definitely a big first step. Growing the one thing, making bread once, trying out your pickle recipe once is a great way to get involved with your own kitchen and your own life and live with more intent.
The problem is that if you fail once or even twice or even five times, there is that desire to give up.
Your rule number two talks about the importance about keeping at it.
Practice.
There’s a reason why doctors and lawyers and yogis, it’s the word practice to describe what they do.
Definitionally, it means there’s no destination. It’s only journey.
It’s a really important perspective to have when you come to cooking.
You can learn a lot in your 70, 80 years as a home cook.
There’s a lot to be said for the kind of discipline that puts you in the kitchen every day that you can physically get in there.
And there are lots of ways you can make really good food for yourself.
Making a commitment to honor yourself and the people whose health and wellbeing you’re at least partially responsible for by showing up in your own kitchen and doing what it takes to supply your kitchen with the ingredients that you need to make healthy, wholesome food.
Rule Three: Ween Yourself off Cookbooks
The idea of creating this safe space in your kitchen is a really good practice.
And my kitchen’s full of cookbooks, which I love to go to and to read and gather for inspiration.
Same.
But at some point I go, all right, I got to get my nose out of this. I got to cook. I got to make these recipes work for me, which is a big part of your rule number three.
Wean yourself off of cookbooks.
I think of cookbooks as somewhere between training wheels and sheet music.
There’s a lot of knowledge that is assumed in your average cookbook.
I think that as a home cook, finding ways to give yourself that knowledge by first and foremost, giving yourself the permission to fail is really the only way to do it.
And that goes back to the practice thing, right?
If you show up every day, yeah, baking bread is not always easy.
When I teach baking, I tell people, if you can commit to baking 10 times in the next two months, you are then forgiven for giving up on it.
But you gotta do it 10 times in the next two months.
Try to get it into your muscles. Try to get it into your life.
Understand the rhythms, in my case, usually sourdough, and how you can factor that in given job and school and other stuff you have to do.
You can let it hang out in the fridge for long periods. So it’s very forgiving.
Then if you still don’t like it or you can’t make it work, you have my permission to give up.
But you can’t just do it once and f**k it up and say, I’m not a baker.
Recipes are great. Use a recipe the first time, then try and do it using the force the next time.
Or try to substitute something the next time.
Understanding that this is going to behave in a similar way because it’s related to that. It has similar properties.
Then you’re cooking the way these mythical grandmas that everyone likes to invoke are cooking.
Rule Four: Observe a Food Sabbath
I found that once I’ve gone on a long stretch of cooking, especially if I’m doing something big for the holidays, I need a break because I get tired or I’ll get lazy and I’ll make a mistake or I’ll do shortcuts.
And taking that break and giving yourself the permission to not have to cook everything is a fundamental value of rule number four.
You have to be gentle with yourself.
We all have to be gentle with ourselves and each other.
Take a break, order something. It’s totally fine.
My fourth rule, rather, is observe a food Sabbath.
That can mean taking a break from cooking, but in my case, honestly, I refer to it as a day where you turn off media and you spend a day or half a day in your kitchen front-loading the labor for a week’s worth of healthy home cooking.
Let’s say you roast a chicken. Let’s say you cook a pot of beans. Let’s say you bake a loaf or two of bread.
Maybe you make a jar of something pickled that’s local and fresh at the time.
And then fill in the blanks, a couple other things maybe. Just simple, make a jar of jam if it’s that season or whatever.
And by the end of even just a few hours, this sounds daunting, but these things don’t take a lot of work and a lot of them happen to you concurrently.
By the end of that period, you’ve connected with the ingredient.
And so you have all this beautiful custom control at a nuanced level.
Rule Five: No F*****g AI
I love this idea of putting down technology and just getting in the kitchen.
Your fifth and final rule talks about ignoring this other rising technological advancement. What’s your rule number five?
Rule number five is no f*****g AI.
Every day we learn more about how horrendous it is for every living thing.
I’m not disputing that maybe it helped you do your taxes this year. You know, fine. Sure. Zygazunt, I don’t give a s**t about that.
What I’m talking about is the fact that we know that this tool is using water and electricity that human beings need to live. And it is sucking it up at increasingly voracious and unsustainable rates.
We know that relying on it makes us dumber. It causes cognitive impairment.
Robots don’t understand food, understand anything about humanity, even though they’ve gotten really good at sounding like they’re conscious and they’re talking to you, they’re not.
They’re probability models. They only know what words are most likely to follow the word before it.
It’s not a brain. It’s not an entity, it’s an algorithm.
It doesn’t like you, it doesn’t care about you, it is not conscious, and it’s trying to kill us all.
So keep it the f**k out of your kitchen.
Closing
I’m gonna leave us on that passionate note.
Peter, it is so good to see you and to hear from you.
If people want to follow your writings, your adventures, get some intentional cooking tips from you, where can they go?
Things on Bread is one of the two newsletters. Flavor Freaks is the other one. And I am cookblog on Instagram.
Incredible.
Well, thank you, Peter. Appreciate you making the time.
Definitely going to be doing some front-loading cooking in the next few weeks so I can have a much easier and more relaxing time in the kitchen during the week.
I like it.
And Darin, thank you so much. I like your show and I’m thrilled to be part of it.
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