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In this episode
Have a question, query, or quagmire you’d like Renee and David to answer? Click that red button to the right, or click on this link to leave us a recorded message. Press and talk away and maybe you’ll be featured on the show!
It all began when I was about 10 years old. Whenever my parents and I visited my avó and avô (that’s Portuguese for grandmother and grandfather) and the rest of the Leite family in Somerville, MA, I’d gather my ensemble of cousins for the express purpose of staging musical spectaculars on my Aunt Irene’s back porch. I was the director, naturally, and my word was law. (Oh, how little things have changed, I can hear Renee thinking.) [Editor’s Note: Yup. Precisely.]
One show, in particular, featured an all-Beatles lineup in which I directed my distant cousin Elaine to slowly walk down the porch stairs as she sang “Let It Be.” (This was also the era of Cher, hence the many long, slow stair descents and excessive hair flipping at my directives.) I made her do this over and over again until, frustrated, I climbed to the top of the stairs and did my own descent. Never was a David Leite spectacular more spectacular.
A little later, I discovered The Brady Bunch Variety Hour. How many times did I dream that I was the seventh Brady kid (in between Greg and Peter) and had my own solo in the finale of each show? And how can I express to you just how achingly desperate I was to have one of those synthetic, powder blue jumpsuits?
Yet even with ambition fierce enough to make Eve Harrington pee herself—as well as serious acting training at Carnegie Mellon University—stardom never found me. The closest I ever came to fame? Playing a zombie in George Romero’s “Day of the Dead.” (I wasn’t even the kind of zombie that exploded in glorious gushes of blood. No, I was just an extra’s extra, in the back row, crying quietly.)
Through it all, though, I repeatedly heard, “You have such a great voice. You should consider radio.” (Well, okay, not on the zombie set. All I did there was groan.) But radio? Motion picture’s poorest relation? I’d rather have a 9 to 5 office job than do radio.
Ah, be careful what you wish for, children. Eighteen years of soul-sucking, fluorescent-lit servitude followed.
Now, older, wiser, and fatter, I realize that radio and its equally distinguished cousin, the podcast, are more than worthy of my time.
But it’s not the lure of fame that elbowed me to create our new podcast, Talking with My Mouth Full, but rather it’s my desire to be of service to you. (Oh, hell, who am I kidding? I still fantasize that someday a casting director will hear me and stand, fist raised to the sky à la Scarlett O’Hara, and shout, “I’ve found my star!”)
Until then I’m all yours. Heart and soul.
Most kidding aside, though, the reason Renee, my editor-in-chief, and I created this podcast was to bring to life the writers whose words grace our pages, the cookbook authors whose recipes you desire, and the LC staffers who may not be familiar to you but whose fingerprints are all over every post.
We also wanted you to hear from our beloveds–those folks who populate our lives and our stories, including The One (Who Brings Me Love, Joy, and Happiness), Momma Leite (my mother, who else?), E (the love of Renee’s life), and, wait for it, you.
Yup, we’re inviting you, our dear readers, on the show as our guests. What’s that? You don’t have a blog or cookbook? No Food Network show or line of cookware? Like we care. If you possess a kick-ass lasagne recipe (I personally prefer béchamel, just like Giuliano Hazan’s recipe), wield an unorthodox way of making mashed potatoes (I’m ALWAYS on the lookout for mashed potato recipes), or regularly debate whether or not nuts belong in chocolate chip cookies (they don’t) [Editor’s Note: Oh, brother], we want to hear from you.
Lest you think we went all DIY and locked ourselves and a digital recorder in a closet (I’m through with closets, but that’s another post), think again. We reached out to my mentor Sally Swift, managing producer over at The Splendid Table, who recommended producer and impresario Tom Voegeli (pronounced “vaguely,” but trust me, he’s anything but). Tom was one of the creators of The Splendid Table, so we knew we were in capable hands.
That’s when our education began, and the meetings, calls, texts, emails, and faxes commenced. I feel like I’ve graduated from what amounted to a crash course in radio production after working with Tom.
For my previous podcast, Authors’ Answers, everything was a no-brainer. I stuck a microphone in front of a writer, and we talked. This was a brave new world. Suddenly I had to share the mic (egads!) with my lovely and talented co-host, Renee.
We had to find a rhythm and get used to each other. [Editor’s Note: What he really means is find ways to politely and diplomatically disagree.] Add to that musical snippets, multiple guests, ISDN lines to London and other far-flung places, loooong days locked in a recording studio with takes and retakes and more retakes, and enough four-letter words flying out of my mouth to make the rap world proud. Stardom doesn’t come easily, folks.
Yet under Tom’s careful watch, enough material came together for a couple of podcasts, and after several rounds of edits, we ended up with what’s before you, our first ever, our debut, our launch, our world premiere, with the second podcast to follow in just a few weeks.
Renee and I are a little nervous, as you can imagine. And we’re more than a little desperate for you to let us know what you think. Just please be gentle…after all, we’re virgins.
David, My Wife and I met you on a cruise last September. Had a great time getting to know you! Congratulations on the new blog! I read about in TastingTable and knew it was you. I had lost your card so I was glad to find you again.
Hey Terry, so good to catch up with you! Thanks for the kind words. And I just gotta say your photography is fantastic.
Great podcasts, you guys! I had to stifle my laughter during the Rosemary Clooney song. I work in financial services and we’re supposed to be very serious and professional.
Many thanks, ATNell. I can think of no higher praise than that. And I don’t know about David, but I take it as a personal challenge to continue to make you crack up at work with each future podcast! Kindly let me know how we’re faring in that regard…! Thanks again for taking the time to write. Made my day.
I had to install itunes to listen. I know, I know. But it’s true. I downloaded an Item (or should I say iTem) especially so I could listen to you guys! So glad I did. I have also subscribed, which is something that I never do. I’m not a joiner. Did you know that I call my husband The Beloved? Well, it’s true! Love you!
Well, Jenni, I’m honored to be the man who wrenched you out of the 20th century. And to get you to subscribe? Why, I’m speechless, which, if you know me, is a very hard thing to do indeed.
I’d love to see this on stitcher.
Rex, the podcast is now on Stitcher.
Hey, Rex. We applied and are now awaiting their response.
My sister staged plays too. She was so relentless in her creative spin that she barked orders and sent my friends home in tears, although I was immune to her impossible-ness. I called her and read the first paragraph and we were hysterically laughing!
Gordana, thanks for writing. Well, I guess I did my job, then. There is nothing I love more than making people laugh. Well, feeding people and making them laugh.