Sticky Songs, Crispy Mushrooms

Issue No. 15 | TOT Hits of 2025 | Buttery Mushrooms on Toast | January Advice

Today I’m sending you a playlist of songs you might play at a New Year's Eve party. I stress the word might. The playlist is made up of songs I heard for the first time in 2025 and loved. I would play it at a party, but I like a pretty low-key party where everybody has a place to sit and nobody feels pressure to talk. Your holiday party vibe may vary. 

I don’t make playlists and I feel sheepish sending this one out. At the same time, I think there’s a chance that you, like me, will appreciate the way Harold Land and Kenny Dorham trade solos on "On a Little Street in Singapore" (they swing), or the way Cécile McLoren Salvant unloads her anxieties on "Anything But Now."

Some select liner notes: 

"Beautiful Strangers," Mavis Staples: I guess this is a cover of a Kevin Morby song, but I don’t know who Kevin Morby is and I’ve never heard his version. It’s a six-minute song about gun violence and it made me full-on weep on a recent plane ride from New York to Cincinnati. Perfect party music, just like I promised! 

"Ring Ring Ring," Tyler the Creator: It’s funny to think about the debates I had with friends over the ethics of listening to Odd Future in the early aughts. We all thought Tyler was homophobic, but he was taking the piss, I guess. He’s so gay now. I love him and this song, which is just a sweet, retro love song. 

"Inside of Love," Nada Surf: I was driving on I-91 on a very dark Saturday night, somewhere around Bellows Falls, Vermont, when this song came on The River. I had never paid attention to Nada Surf before, but later that night I dug in. I guess this was a hit for them? It is deeply emo. It's also earnest, I think, though maybe it's all irony, which would explain why it speaks so directly to my Gen X sensibilities.

"Take This Stone," Cécile McLoren Salvant: Did you know that gay male food writers are obsessed with Cécile McLoren Salvant? We're kind of her Beyhive. When Lukas Volger and I fangirled over this album together, we both singled out this cover. Only it's not a cover—it just sounds like a folk song from the sixties. It’s gorgeous and absolutely impossible to sing along to unless you have the range, but who has the range?

"Sister," Tracey Thorn: I didn't hear this until just a few days ago, when Justin Vivian Bond included it in V's holiday show at Joe's Pub. I am constantly trying to subtly write notes in my phone during Justin Vivian Bond shows—a lyric, a detail from a story V tells, anything to help me track down the songs later so I can hear them again. I am almost never successful, so this was a nice little win.

"It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over," Lenny Kravitz: Of course this song is not new to me—I have been listening to it since the day it came out in 1991. But it was only this year that I discovered that it may as well be cocaine to me. If I'm down, I turn it on. Suddenly, I’m up. 

"Abide with Me," Thelonius Monk Septet: I'm reading a biography of John Coltrane and listening to albums as they're mentioned. Monk's Music, which this track comes from, is the album that turned me into a Monk fanatic. (Note that Monk is not on this track—it's all horns.) The funny thing about Monk's Music is that Coleman Hawkins and Art Blakey are named on the cover, but not Coltrane. Imagine having John Coltrane in your band and not giving him billing.

"String Quartet No. 5" by Philip Glass, performed by Brooklyn Rider: I ended up not putting this on the playlist because not even I am so morose as to play it at a party. But if I'm reviewing the music of my year, I have to mention the night I heard Brooklyn Rider perform this in a spooky chamber in The Cloisters. For me, this is life-changing music. And since I know you’re wondering, yes, yes, I've wept on a plane listening to this one, too.

Butter, Oil, Mushrooms, Egg

Golden mushrooms, soaked with olive oil and butter and piled on toast, are nothing new. The night I made this, that was the point. When I tipped those mushrooms into my biggest skillet I had nothing innovative in mind. We were grieving in this house—we are grieving in this house—and I was grief-cooking, grief-eating. Nobody wants experimental dinners when they're grieving. At least I don't.

My grief takes a back seat to the grief of the person I cook for. There’s not very much you can do for somebody who is grieving other than make your presence known, and cooking is a way to do that. I think it is, anyway. What I've realized over the course of this winter where there's been too much death is that I don’t know much about grieving. I know a little. I know a lot less than most. And I know almost nothing about helping somebody close to me grieve. The night I made this dinner, I shook the pan to loosen the mushrooms that had begun to stick and hoped I was doing something useful. I was not convinced I was. 

I used to believe that cooking was a cure-all, and I said this loudly to whoever listened. I wrote an op-ed about it for the Times, and a cookbook that preached the benefits of cooking every meal, every day. I don’t believe cooking is all-powerful anymore. No mushroom will dull the pain of losing a person you love. But damn if the garlicky steam that rose from the mushrooms that night didn't relax me a little, and give me a few seconds of comfort. I prayed it would have the same effect on the person in the kitchen with me.

Recipe: Buttery Mushrooms on Toast (with optional egg)

Wipe any debris off 1 pound of oyster mushrooms with a damp, clean towel. Cut them from their base into more or less individual mushrooms; compost the base or use for another meal.

Heat your largest skillet (preferably stainless steel or cast iron) over medium-high heat. When it's hot, pour in 2 tablespoons olive oil (or more if you need it—you want an even slick of oil across the skillet's surface). Tip in the mushrooms and toss to coat with oil, then shake the pan to coax the mushrooms into an even layer. Lower the heat a little bit and let the mushrooms cook undisturbed for a minute or two, then give them a toss. Cook like this, tossing only every two minutes or so, until the mushrooms are golden and the water they release has all cooked off, 10 to 12 minutes. (Do not salt the mushrooms at this stage!)

While the mushrooms cook, finely chop 4 fat cloves of garlic. When the mushrooms are ready, add the garlic, 1 teaspoon dried thyme and, if things look dry, a little bit more olive oil. (You can also use fresh thyme. If you do, throw in an extra half teaspoon. I have a habit of buying big bushels of thyme that I then neglect, and they get sort of half-dried in the fridge, and that's what I used here.) Cook for about two more minutes, being careful that the garlic does not brown (lower the heat if you need to). Add a splash of sherry vinegar to the pan and scrap up any browned bits that are stuck at the bottom.

Lower the heat dramatically. Now salt. I don't know what kind of salt you use, so you're just going to have to salt and taste, salt and taste, until you have something that is dangerously good—dangerous in that you might eat the whole pan right then and there. Add one or two tablespoons of butter to the pan, let it melt, toss the mushrooms in it, and taste again—you might need to add just a little more salt.

Divide the mushrooms among two thick slices of sourdough toast. Put a fried egg (or a six-minute boiled egg) on top of each toast, if you want to. Hand one mushroom toast to your husband and hope that it makes him feel at least a little better.

January advice

• Make my new favorite chocolate cookie. It's Sarah Jampel's Soft Chocolate Sugar Cookies. I like two of these sandwiched with the (optional) frosting. Also very good: topping or sandwiching with peanut butter.
• Order all the taralli from Sfizi. My friend Matthew introduced me to taralli, those circular Italian crackers that are often flecked with fennel seeds, many years ago, and I started serving them at all of my parties. But now I know that most of the taralli in America is trash. How do I know this? Because I ordered the trio of taralli from Sfizi, the new company started by Sheela Prakash. Sheela is a beloved former co-worker (she was on Team Epicurious), so of course I was going to support her new venture. But I was entirely unprepared for how different—better!—these taralli are. They are richer than most, yet also lighter, with a texture that shatters delicately and pleasantly. There are three flavors; I'm saving the pizza flavor for my NYE party.
• See Liberation on Broadway. I know not all of you live in New York. I don't care. Get on a boat and come to New York to see this show, which closes on February 1st. When I first saw it earlier this year, when it was off-Broadway, I walked out wishing that I could take my mother and sisters to it. When my older sister and brother-in-law came to visit a few months later, Liberation had transferred to Broadway, so I took them, and guess what? It was even better than the first time. The feminist movement in Ohio in the 70s—what could be better?
• Send cheese to somebody. When my friend (and podcast co-host) Jessica heard what kind of a fall we were having in this house, she sent over a big box of cheese from Jasper Hill Farm. It was a balm—the Whitney especially, which we melted into big pots of polenta. Somebody in your life needs cheese right now. Send it to them!