Cooking at Work: Morning Frittata
For the last few weeks, I’ve been working behind the scenes on a TV show as a food stylist. As such, I scour New York city grocery stores for summer-looking basil in mid-March, call all around town to get camera-ready mako shark steaks at a reasonable price, re-create the occasional broken recipe on the fly, and do a lot of dishes with a smile. My team is first in, last out, and we work hard to make sure everything as smooth and uncurdled as a perfect zabaglione. If we do our jobs right we’re invisible.
One of the first things I was told when I started this gig was that in addition to my long (back to back 17-hour) styling days, I’d be coming in extra early to make eggs for the crew.
Um, what? Like an aristocrat asked to clean her own toilet, while it’s something she’s perfectly capable of, it’s something someone else is supposed to do. Asking a stylist to cook eggs for the crew in the morning? Can’t the Production Assistant get some donuts? Next you’ll be asking the prop stylist to iron the cameraman’s socks! How about free facials from the makeup artist? It’s just ain’t done.
This surfaces a distinction in the food styling. When I worked for everyone’s favorite domestic diva, there were two kitchens at the TV studio: prep (styling), and commissary (eating). Yes, the teams that worked in both studios were interchangeable, as we were all trained cooks, but one group played with beautiful food that usually ended up in the garbage, while the other fed the company every day on an incredibly tight budget.
On most food shoots, a tremendous amount of energy is spent on getting food just so, whether it’s a seductive T-bone with charcoal grill marks and a pink-red interior, or a seven layer cake with ROTC-style straight lines. Then the team orders out for a pricey lunch. The one immutable rule of food styling: Never eat what you shoot.
And it’s not because we’re using glue instead of iced cream on those shoots; the days are fake food photography are mostly behinds us. Martha, Donna and magazines like Saveur were pioneers in creating beautiful food imagery with real food that could conceptually be eaten off the set. In fact, there’s one Thanksgiving photoshoot I recall, shot on a sweltering August day, where The True Stew made a surprise visit to the set and expressed that we to eat turkey for lunch that day. As the logic went, “If this food isn’t good, then it shouldn’t be in my magazine.” The girl had a point, and was certainly one to stop for a dropped dime.
There are people who make food, and there are people who make food look pretty. The stylists bring home the bacon (an freelance editorial stylist working for Food & Wine or the Today Show can make $400 to $600 per day, while an advertising stylist working on a print ad campaign for Ruth’s Chris or Burger King can make $1000 or more per day), while your average line cook still makes $8 to $12 per hour, under the table if they’re lucky. It doesn’t matter whether the cook works at Jean-Georges, any number of Danny Meyer restaurants or McDonalds. That’s the going rate.
So I made a boundaries between the “eating” part of our basement kitchen and the “styling” zone. There were separate fridges (theirs had salted butter and a lot of diet soda, mine had the good stuff). On Day 1, I met the crew with a frown to let them know how serious and important stylists are, and served some cold scrambled eggs.
But after a few long days I started to like my new colleagues, and tried to put the old rules of food styling behind me. I was reminded that I enjoy food, I love cooking for people, I’m sitting in a well-equipped kitchen with tons of fantastic leftover ingredients; why be a slave to the traditions of food styling?
So I started thinking like a cook should, and got excited about what I could make tomorrow based on what I had today. I could do breakfast burritos based on yesterdays empanada filling, or bacon-scallion hash browns from lunch potatoes. Yesterady I actually asked for feta (in addition to the eggs), so that I could combine it with the Moroccan olives and spinach overflow to make one killer frittata. Now the crew is starting their day with a smile, eating a warm love-filled breakfast and we’re having fun in the kitchen, water-cooler style.
Apparently this food goodwill is contagious; our tough-as-nails production coordinator whipped up a batch of fresh fruit smoothies this morning. The adorable set PA has started making lovely vegetable and cheese platters for the afternoon lull.
And although I’m still the late out, I’m a bit less late, as I’ve got a crew-full of helpers who are willing to schlep cast-iron griddles up and down two flights of stairs, and even help me wash the occasional dish. Not a bad thank you for a job I’m happy to do.
Spinach and Feta Frittata
Feeds a hungry crew of 8 to 12
Drizzles of olive oil
6 to 8 ounces baby spinach (or frozen, defrosted)
A handful of fresh basil leaves (2/3 cup, packed)
1 small red onion, chopped
Large pinch dried oregano (1/2 teaspoon)
pinch red pepper flakes (pinch generosity pending heat preference)
16 eggs, lightly beaten
Salt and pepper
A handful of feta (2/3 cup, crumbled)
1/3 cup pitted kalamata olives
1/3 cup grape tomatoes, halved (garnish)
1. Heat oven to 350F.
2. Heat a large oven-safe 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium heat, and add enough olive oil to lightly coat the bottom of the skillet. When warm, add spinach and basil and a generous pinch of salt and toss with coated (don’t damage the nonstick) tongs until wilted, about 1 minute. Remove and reserve spinach mixture.
3. Add another drizzle of olive oil to the warm pan and add onions. Sweat until softened, about 3 to 5 minutes. Gently crush the oregano with your fingers (releasing fragrance – yum!), and add to the skillet with the pepper flakes and wilted spinach. Stir to incorporate, and add the eggs, feta and olives
Let this eggs cook gently, over moderate heat, pushing cooked eggs from the bottom of the pan with a spatula. When the eggs are about 2/3 to 3/4 set, place in the oven until puffed; 5 to 10 minutes.
4. Invert the skillet onto a serving platter (who are we kidding, a large cutting board!), cut into wedges and serve topped with tomatoes. [Note: For presentation, re-invert the frittata if you like, before cutting into wedges. Or don’t sweat it; I don’t.
One of the first things I was told when I started this gig was that in addition to my long (back to back 17-hour) styling days, I’d be coming in extra early to make eggs for the crew.
Um, what? Like an aristocrat asked to clean her own toilet, while it’s something she’s perfectly capable of, it’s something someone else is supposed to do. Asking a stylist to cook eggs for the crew in the morning? Can’t the Production Assistant get some donuts? Next you’ll be asking the prop stylist to iron the cameraman’s socks! How about free facials from the makeup artist? It’s just ain’t done.
This surfaces a distinction in the food styling. When I worked for everyone’s favorite domestic diva, there were two kitchens at the TV studio: prep (styling), and commissary (eating). Yes, the teams that worked in both studios were interchangeable, as we were all trained cooks, but one group played with beautiful food that usually ended up in the garbage, while the other fed the company every day on an incredibly tight budget.
On most food shoots, a tremendous amount of energy is spent on getting food just so, whether it’s a seductive T-bone with charcoal grill marks and a pink-red interior, or a seven layer cake with ROTC-style straight lines. Then the team orders out for a pricey lunch. The one immutable rule of food styling: Never eat what you shoot.
And it’s not because we’re using glue instead of iced cream on those shoots; the days are fake food photography are mostly behinds us. Martha, Donna and magazines like Saveur were pioneers in creating beautiful food imagery with real food that could conceptually be eaten off the set. In fact, there’s one Thanksgiving photoshoot I recall, shot on a sweltering August day, where The True Stew made a surprise visit to the set and expressed that we to eat turkey for lunch that day. As the logic went, “If this food isn’t good, then it shouldn’t be in my magazine.” The girl had a point, and was certainly one to stop for a dropped dime.
There are people who make food, and there are people who make food look pretty. The stylists bring home the bacon (an freelance editorial stylist working for Food & Wine or the Today Show can make $400 to $600 per day, while an advertising stylist working on a print ad campaign for Ruth’s Chris or Burger King can make $1000 or more per day), while your average line cook still makes $8 to $12 per hour, under the table if they’re lucky. It doesn’t matter whether the cook works at Jean-Georges, any number of Danny Meyer restaurants or McDonalds. That’s the going rate.
So I made a boundaries between the “eating” part of our basement kitchen and the “styling” zone. There were separate fridges (theirs had salted butter and a lot of diet soda, mine had the good stuff). On Day 1, I met the crew with a frown to let them know how serious and important stylists are, and served some cold scrambled eggs.
But after a few long days I started to like my new colleagues, and tried to put the old rules of food styling behind me. I was reminded that I enjoy food, I love cooking for people, I’m sitting in a well-equipped kitchen with tons of fantastic leftover ingredients; why be a slave to the traditions of food styling?
So I started thinking like a cook should, and got excited about what I could make tomorrow based on what I had today. I could do breakfast burritos based on yesterdays empanada filling, or bacon-scallion hash browns from lunch potatoes. Yesterady I actually asked for feta (in addition to the eggs), so that I could combine it with the Moroccan olives and spinach overflow to make one killer frittata. Now the crew is starting their day with a smile, eating a warm love-filled breakfast and we’re having fun in the kitchen, water-cooler style.
Apparently this food goodwill is contagious; our tough-as-nails production coordinator whipped up a batch of fresh fruit smoothies this morning. The adorable set PA has started making lovely vegetable and cheese platters for the afternoon lull.
And although I’m still the late out, I’m a bit less late, as I’ve got a crew-full of helpers who are willing to schlep cast-iron griddles up and down two flights of stairs, and even help me wash the occasional dish. Not a bad thank you for a job I’m happy to do.
Spinach and Feta Frittata
Feeds a hungry crew of 8 to 12
Drizzles of olive oil
6 to 8 ounces baby spinach (or frozen, defrosted)
A handful of fresh basil leaves (2/3 cup, packed)
1 small red onion, chopped
Large pinch dried oregano (1/2 teaspoon)
pinch red pepper flakes (pinch generosity pending heat preference)
16 eggs, lightly beaten
Salt and pepper
A handful of feta (2/3 cup, crumbled)
1/3 cup pitted kalamata olives
1/3 cup grape tomatoes, halved (garnish)
1. Heat oven to 350F.
2. Heat a large oven-safe 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium heat, and add enough olive oil to lightly coat the bottom of the skillet. When warm, add spinach and basil and a generous pinch of salt and toss with coated (don’t damage the nonstick) tongs until wilted, about 1 minute. Remove and reserve spinach mixture.
3. Add another drizzle of olive oil to the warm pan and add onions. Sweat until softened, about 3 to 5 minutes. Gently crush the oregano with your fingers (releasing fragrance – yum!), and add to the skillet with the pepper flakes and wilted spinach. Stir to incorporate, and add the eggs, feta and olives
Let this eggs cook gently, over moderate heat, pushing cooked eggs from the bottom of the pan with a spatula. When the eggs are about 2/3 to 3/4 set, place in the oven until puffed; 5 to 10 minutes.
4. Invert the skillet onto a serving platter (who are we kidding, a large cutting board!), cut into wedges and serve topped with tomatoes. [Note: For presentation, re-invert the frittata if you like, before cutting into wedges. Or don’t sweat it; I don’t.
posted by Allison Fishman Task at 12:38 AM
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