Kate Bittman's profile photo

Kate Bittman

New York

Podcast Producer at The Bittman Project

Articles

  • 3 weeks ago | aarp.org | Mark Bittman |Kate Bittman

    Courtesy Mark Bittman; Romulo Yanes; Burcu Avsar and Zach DeSart; Kate Bittman Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Jump to recipesRoast Pork With Herb Rub | Simplest Asparagus Gratin | Ultra-Rich Mocha Mousse In an ideal world, you don’t need an excuse to roast a pork loin.

  • 1 month ago | bittmanproject.com | Kate Bittman

    We try to be thoughtful about how we make money, and so we only partner with brands and organizations that we know well and believe in. ​Bob’s Red Mill​ is one of those brands, and we’re glad to have organic reasons to promote them; our partnership with Bob’s got me thinking about one of my favorite memories in the kitchen—which is learning how to cook oatmeal (the right way!) from my dad. Dear reader, youth is wasted on the young. I feel this cliché so much lately, for a variety of reasons.

  • 1 month ago | bittmanproject.com | Kate Bittman

    I’m one of those rare people who have never read Kitchen Confidential or watched Anthony Bourdain’s shows, but it’s certainly obvious that he was an extremely intelligent, dynamic, thoughtful person, and the way the food community has honored him in the years since his death has been really touching. Our guest today, Laurie Woolever, was Bourdain’s assistant for nearly a decade; she was his assistant at the time of his death.

  • 1 month ago | bittmanproject.com | Kate Bittman

    I love Broadway shows. And theater in general. So much so that at the end of last year Nick, my husband, had to give me a little talking to about budgeting; I spent wayyyy too much money on theater in 2024 and it was becoming a problem. I never stop movie stars on the street, but you bet your ass if I see a Broadway star I’m taking a pic with them.

  • 1 month ago | bittmanproject.com | Kate Bittman

    One afternoon last July, I was backing out of our driveway to go pick up my son, Holden, at camp when I heard a resounding crack under the car. It had just finished raining like mad, so I figured it was a large stick, but the sound was loud enough that I stuck my head out of the window to check. It was a turtle, and I had run it over in the worst way possible. The tears came fast and furious, but I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing—I was already running slightly behind to get my boy.

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