April 28, 2020
When my wife and I hosted our virtual trivia night, I came up with what I thought were 10 pretty easy questions related to general podcast knowledge. Turns out my group of not-podcast-obsessed peers found it to be pretty difficult. Then I shared the quiz on a podcast listening Facebook group...and found out that apparently this is really challenging. Out of 200+ responses, the average score is 3.75/10. If you're reading this you may have insight into my listening bias and thus may have a leg up. Fancy testing your luck? Click here to check it out. Now, on to the blog. Wheeeeeee!
SOMETHING NEW
SOMETHING NEW
Rarely do I come across a podcast that leaves me giddy after listening to the initial episode, but that is indeed the experience I had after “Bone Broth” from Richard's Famous Food Podcast. I laughed out loud more than once, both as a result of the comedic content and out of gleeful anticipation at what might be around the next corner. Branding itself as “gastro comedy,” the show dishes out fully fledged characters and quirky recurring sound effect bits in an incredibly refreshing way. Food is kind of the centering theme of the show, as most episodes focus on a specific dish, but there is so much more going on.
For starter’s there is a narrative arc that runs throughout the show, as our narrator Richard wrestles with imperatives doled out from the pod gods. And it’s actually relatively compelling, given how unnecessary it is in the midst of so much other quality material - it’s an embarrassment of riches. This limits the possibility for a la carte sampling of random episodes, though with runtimes ranging from 3 minutes to just under 30 it is extremely manageable to start at the beginning. While the storyline undoubtedly limits the broad appeal of the show - mixing fiction with nonfiction - the added layer makes it heartily endearing it to listeners who vibe with it.
Somehow all the silliness doesn’t completely destroy the educational component of the show. Many of the foods featured might be the sort of fare typically only found in buzzy urban eateries, but the show does a good job of exploring the roots of a given culinary curiosity and seems to honor the culture(s) from which it originated. This is a credit to host Richard Parks III, a James Beard Award-nominated food writer based in Los Angeles. His renown as a journalist may also be credited for landing some pretty fancy-pants guests in the food world - ranging from a Michelin Star chef to the guy more or less responsible for popularizing fermentation.
I’m a very low-grade foodie on the best days, so the food-based knowledge isn’t even much of a draw. The comedy is clever and amusing - as opposed to a high impact low retention thrill ride of the average standup, and I am a sucker for the self-deprecating writing. But more than anything RFFP has such a strong earworm quality, with so many callbacks that etch into your brain and resurface when encountered in the wild. I dare you to listen to this show and not alter the way you intonate the word “pickle” (to say nothing of bone broth). I’ve really never heard something that is as zany as it is chock full of legitimately intriguing subject matter, and I cannot recommend this show highly enough.
For starter’s there is a narrative arc that runs throughout the show, as our narrator Richard wrestles with imperatives doled out from the pod gods. And it’s actually relatively compelling, given how unnecessary it is in the midst of so much other quality material - it’s an embarrassment of riches. This limits the possibility for a la carte sampling of random episodes, though with runtimes ranging from 3 minutes to just under 30 it is extremely manageable to start at the beginning. While the storyline undoubtedly limits the broad appeal of the show - mixing fiction with nonfiction - the added layer makes it heartily endearing it to listeners who vibe with it.
Somehow all the silliness doesn’t completely destroy the educational component of the show. Many of the foods featured might be the sort of fare typically only found in buzzy urban eateries, but the show does a good job of exploring the roots of a given culinary curiosity and seems to honor the culture(s) from which it originated. This is a credit to host Richard Parks III, a James Beard Award-nominated food writer based in Los Angeles. His renown as a journalist may also be credited for landing some pretty fancy-pants guests in the food world - ranging from a Michelin Star chef to the guy more or less responsible for popularizing fermentation.
I’m a very low-grade foodie on the best days, so the food-based knowledge isn’t even much of a draw. The comedy is clever and amusing - as opposed to a high impact low retention thrill ride of the average standup, and I am a sucker for the self-deprecating writing. But more than anything RFFP has such a strong earworm quality, with so many callbacks that etch into your brain and resurface when encountered in the wild. I dare you to listen to this show and not alter the way you intonate the word “pickle” (to say nothing of bone broth). I’ve really never heard something that is as zany as it is chock full of legitimately intriguing subject matter, and I cannot recommend this show highly enough.
From: Standalone
Recommended for: Gherkins, Dills, Bread and Butter
Drop Schedule: Infrequent Release
Average episode length: 20 minutes
Rating: Gotta Have It
THE LIST
Nothing beats your first time (listening to a new podcast). I laughed out loud. I delighted in not being able to anticipate the next bit. I actually learned something. And I felt the giddy anticipation of stumbling onto a baby band playing a tiny club, sensing that this thing has the potential to be a smash hit.
Planet Money has pulled off some really excellent boots-on-the-ground covid coverage, and perhaps no story has stuck with me more than this explainer on how to calculate the worth of a life. Turns out there is a rich history of regulatory action based on the economic value of a human. Every time I see a warning label I think of this episode and ponder the complexity of existing in an age with vast amounts of knowledge and what we hold most dear in light of it all.
This episode was a bit of an uncanny valley for me. My millennial self recognized the prevalence of unicorns and poop as cultural centrifuges that spin meaning from meme. As a soon-to-be father, I recoiled at the grotesque consumer industrial complex driven by YouTube idolatry while simultaneously understanding my powerlessness against it. And as someone who mistakenly bought an unboxing-inspired toy for a friends gift exchange (thinking that it was really food), I felt enlightened and embarrassed all over again. It was a fun-house mirror image of a world I feel trapped inside but can't fully understand.
There is a lot to love here. It's a similar thrill to any of the episodes if you're familiar with the writer featured. But Quah brings an extra dose of humility (underselling himself) which makes me feel a bit more like imposter syndrome is real. I'm nowhere near as prolific as Nick, but writing does have a strange hold on me that is captured quite well in this interview.
Walking and listening to podcasts is one of my favorite things. While sheltering in place, my wife and I decided to walk and listen together - syncing up our phones and throwing on this touching episode of This Is Love. Walking a dog while listening is not required, but it did enhance my experience of this story about a guide dog during the terrorist attacks of September 11th.
As a country, America has perhaps never been more in need of collectively processing anything than the COVID-19 pandemic. Lineup two of the best podcasting cultural critics who just happen to live in New York, and you’ve got a somber recipe for parsing what we are to take from this strange moment.
HONORABLE MENTION
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