Feeling Bossy

Talking curiosity with Paper's Kim Hastreiter + braising Naomi Pomeroy's legendary short ribs

The Conversation

This is the first installment of The Conversation, in which I get wisdom from the people who inspire me in five questions (more or less). You can see past conversations with Alice Waters, Samin Nosrat, Rachel Comey and Stella Bugbee on the xtine site. This week: The amazing Kim Hastreiter.

Painting by Maira Kalman

To be honest, it took me decades to appreciate the scope and power of what Kim Hastreiter, my former boss at Paper Magazine, has achieved. It is no exaggeration to say that she is one of the most important figures in New York’s downtown culture in the last 40 years. She has discovered, championed and connected talented people with unparalleled purity and enthusiasm. (For my 1996 wedding, she suggested I have a dress made either by her good friend Isabel Toledo or an up-and-coming designer at Mr. Beene’s studio named Albert Elbaz....)

She is unflaggingly curious and energetic, and at 72, she is busier than ever. She’s publishing a 400-page book, Stuff: A New York Life of Cultural Chaos, on her collections of people and things, with two more titles in the works. She just launched a Substack, and will be in residence at Whaam! Gallery, where they’re reconstructing her office, for a December holiday store and talent outreach in the fashion, design and food worlds. That’s only some of it. Please go see her in December and be amazed — perhaps prepping with this New Yorker profile from 2007, aptly titled The Enthusiast.

What do you think gave you the courage and confidence to launch a magazine and keep it fresh for so many years?
I am a manifestor. For as long as I can remember, I see things in my mind. Then I become obsessed with making them happen. I think courage and confidence came from my parents. No matter how crazy or abstract my ideas were, I would tell them to my incredible mother, and instead of telling me I was crazy, she’d say, “WOW, how did I ever have a daughter like you?” And my father, too: Whatever hare-brained scheme I’d come up with, all he’d ever say was, “How can we help you?”

You are one of the most curious people I know. Were you born with it, or did your parents instill some of it?
My mom was incredibly curious and strong-minded, plus intuitive And she understood abstract ideas, especially in art. I got that from her. And my dad was incredibly eccentric. He could sometimes do outrageous things. He was very unusual, to say the least. He never followed rules and never cared what people thought of him. I kinda got that from him. It was a good combination.

You have such an incredible knack for spotting amazing people and things. How do you know when you’ve found something or someone good?
It’s visceral. I get goosebumps. The little hairs behind my neck stand up. I feel a sense of euphoria and my stomach and heart flutter. 

What (and who) are your proudest discoveries and collections?
So, so many! I’ve been involved with Creative Growth Art Center in Oakland for 35 years. When I first went there, it was run by housewives in a garage to help people with developmental disabilities create art. To me it was like an epiphany – these artists are almost better than other artists because they have no agenda. Their art comes from another place that has nothing to do with education or agenda. It’s pure. Not only do I have hundreds of pieces of art from there, but I have really worked to bring them people, from working with Target to Cheryl Dunn making a movie about them to Aggie Gund, who got a couple of pieces into the permanent collection at MoMA a few years ago. Two weeks ago, I cohosted their closing party at SFMOMA. In a way, that’s what my book is about: I collect talent. I put people together!

Kim’s annual soup party, pre-pandemic edition

When you left Paper, what excited you most about the blank page in front of you?
The most exciting part is I could stop dancing as fast as I could to keep the doors open and lights on. It was exhausting. And surviving took up most of my time. I’m an artist, so I wanted to dream and create amazing things again! I had zillions of ideas in my head, so I was thrilled to start making rain again creatively.

I have to ask: Why did you hire me? I was the least cool person at Paper. I was so terrified during our interview, but decided it was going better when you loved that I used Bodoni on my resumé. And when you asked what made me, a 22-year-old with a year of magazine experience, qualified to run a monthly, I told you that I had been a waitress at Lucky Strike. You totally lit up.
I’m totally into hiring waitresses! You have to be able to multitask. We hired an office manager from Queens who was not a Paper person, but I saw that she’d run a group home for people with mental illnesses, and I was like, Oh my God: You’re perfect for the job!

I could tell you could be tough, and you have to be tough to be a managing editor. You can’t be a pushover – forget it! The inmates can’t run the asylum. And it was an insane asylum.

You were super smart and a super good editor. I loved you because you never butchered my copy and let my voice shine. What a gift that is! Plus, I loved that you became friends with my mother [who also worked there]. Plus, you scared people. A managing editor always needs to put the fear of God into the writers so the copy would come in on time. You just fit into our cast of characters and crazies. You were the calm in the storm. They definitely could have turned our office into an amazing sitcom. Every day was wild. 

The Taste

Photo + recipe courtesy of Ten Speed

Once a month, I’ll write about a new or trusted cookbook, post a favorite recipe, or share the dish I can’t stop ordering or the wine I’m stocking up on. (Aldo Sohm and I just finished writing the follow-up to Wine Simple — this one on pairing wine and food — so there’s lots of that going on.)

This week, Naomi Pomeroy’s Taste and Technique is on my mind. When the book, written with the wonderful Jamie Feldmar, came out in 2016, I called it a true teaching book, sharing the wisdom of a lifetime in the kitchen, along the lines of Zuni Cooking — even though the fiercely talented and funny Naomi was just 41 at the time. Her recipes make you a better cook through the guidance of her steady (bossy!) hand. How tragic that it turned out to be her only book: Naomi died in an accident this summer.

Are these recipes easy or intuitive? “Technique” is in the title! But if you have a dinner party on the horizon, I cannot recommend this book more. I confidently served her fennel gratin to the Frenchette chefs (they loved!), have stopped dinner-party conversation with her asparagus velouté (“I just want to have a moment of appreciation for this soup,” said a chef at the table) and spent happy afternoons making these short ribs, including for my first pandemic guest. (Perfect with Melissa Clark’s pommes Anna.) He texts every fall for the recipe.

Naomi Pomeroy’s Balsamic Braised Shortibs

Short ribs are full of fat and marbling, which makes them perfect for braising, and the addition of acidic balsamic vinegar helps balance some of the meat’s richness. Properly cooked, short ribs make a very sultry meal.

Braising is a good technique for entertaining, because you can essentially set it and forget it, and the leftovers are easily repurposed. Use the meat scraps in a hash, or use the braising liquid as a base for Classic French Onion Soup. It can also be used in a new braise.

You need to keep a few things in mind when you’re braising. This cooking method requires a lot of liquid to keep the meat from drying out and you must have a tight-fitting lid or other cover so the liquid does not evaporate. The braising liquid should be highly seasoned, as well. This recipe calls for a tablespoon of salt in the liquid itself, which may seem like a lot, but the meat needs all of it to become properly seasoned in the liquid.

Short ribs take a long time to cook because of the delicious fat and gelatinous tissue that hold them together. The best way to test for doneness is to slice a small piece off the corner and taste it. When it tastes rich and tender, the ribs are done. Overcooked short ribs lose their lusciousness and end up tasting like pot roast, so be attentive and check often.

4 (1-pound) bone-in short ribs, cut between the bones into 2-rib sections (8 ribs total)
5 tablespoons salt
4 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 celery stalks, cut into 2-inch pieces
4 large carrots, peeled and cut into 2-inch pieces
2 large yellow onions, roughly diced
2 tablespoons tomato paste (preferably Italian)
5 pitted prunes
3 lemon peel strips (from about 1⁄2 lemon)
4 thyme sprigs
1 head garlic, sliced crosswise
3 cups homemade stock or other high-quality stock
2 cups red wine
½ cup 10-year aged balsamic vinegar

1.     Season each rib with 1½ teaspoons of the salt and ½ teaspoon of the pepper. (This may seem like an excessive amount of salt and pepper, but much of it will fall off when you sear the meat.) Heat a black steel pan over high heat until very hot. Add 1 tablespoon of the oil and heat until the surface is rippling but not smoking. Add half of the ribs and sear, pressing down with tongs and turning them as needed, until deep brown on all sides (avoid creating many black spots), 2 to 3 minutes per side. Transfer the seared ribs to an enameled cast-iron or stainless-steel Dutch oven or a half hotel pan; don’t use an unlined cast-iron pan for braising. Because there’s so much acid in this recipe, an unlined cast-iron pan will leave a metallic flavor in your meat. Rinse and dry the pan and repeat with 1 tablespoon of the remaining oil and the remaining ribs. Add the second batch of seared ribs to the Dutch oven and set aside.

2.     Preheat the oven to 350°F. Rinse and dry the pan you used for searing the ribs once again. Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons oil in the pan over medium-high heat. Add half of the celery, carrots, and onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until golden and caramelized, 7 to 10 minutes. Add 1 tablespoon of the tomato paste and cook, stirring frequently, until the vegetables are deep golden brown. Add this mixture to the Dutch oven and repeat with the remaining vegetables, 1 tablespoon tomato paste, and 1 tablespoon oil. Add the prunes, lemon peel, thyme, and garlic to the Dutch oven and set aside. In a large nonreactive saucepan over medium heat, bring the stock, wine, and balsamic vinegar to a simmer. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon salt, then pour the stock mixture into the Dutch oven. Cover the pot, place in the oven, and cook until the meat is very tender and nearly falling off the bone but not completely falling apart when teased with a fork or pressed between your fingers, about 2½ hours. Uncover the pot and let the beef cool in the braising liquid until it is cool enough to handle, 30 to 45 minutes.

3.     Transfer the ribs to a cutting board and carefully trim (or just pull off gently with your fingers) the flap of connective tissue where it meets the bone (it should be easy to peel back and cut off near the hole where the bone is; if the bone fell out during cooking, just fish it out of the liquid and discard it). Strain the braising liquid and discard all of the solids. (I like to save the carrots, which I usually throw into a hash the next day.) Pour the braising liquid into a container and ladle off and discard as much fat from the surface as possible. You’ll use some of the braising liquid when serving the beef; freeze the rest for another use. Keep in mind that this braising liquid has incredible flavor but is aggressively seasoned, so use it sparingly.

4.     Preheat the oven to 400°F. Place the trimmed short ribs in a casserole dish and pour a few large ladles of the braising liquid over the top. Reheat the ribs in the oven, uncovered, until fully heated through, 5 to 7 minutes, basting as needed to keep them from drying out.

Thanks for reading! If you didn’t see last week’s Kyoto guide, you’ll find it here. The dollar is strong: Book your hotel now!