Florence Fabricant dishes on her love of food and her husband in new memoir

As a child living in the Bronx, long acclaimed New York Times food and wine writer Florence Fabricant cherishes the memory of her mother buying fresh produce, particularly peppers and tomatoes, "from a guy with a truckload of them who drove around the neighborhood."

"The term farm-to-table was decades away, but it’s not an exaggeration to say that I was onto it from the very beginning of my career, and nothing could pry me away," Fabricant writes in her new memoir, "Salty, Not Sweet. A Life In The Food World" (Running Press, 2026).

Her latest publication has the author of 13 cookbooks dishing on everything from celebrity chefs to one of the many things that still makes her angry in the food industry (spoiler alert: tomatoes resembling tennis balls). Fabricant plates her vivid story as if it was a meal for her readers to enjoy, with the gentle placement of her personal life, having been married 56 years to her late husband, Richard, whom she adored, saying, "This memoir is his as much as it’s mine," alongside a heaping helping of her travels across the globe, as well as recounting the significant shifts in restaurants throughout her 50-plus-year career. She also adds a thoughtful intermezzo of some of her favorite recipes in between chapters.

The emphatic East Hampton resident — who has no intention of throwing in the "dish towel" any time soon — spoke by phone to discuss her life and career.

Did you find writing a memoir more difficult to write than your previous publications?

As a journalist I’m very attuned to concise writing. This was much more open-ended, and I had never written like that before. I kind of forced myself to loosen up, to be more expansive, more expressive and allow myself to carry on about certain subjects, which is not the way I’d ever written.

You write about your love for and loss of your husband, Richard. Your devotion to each other comes through the pages.

About a third of the way through the writing process I said, "Wait a minute. this has got to be Richard's book, too." And I went back and rewrote a lot because I realized how much a part of my life, obviously, but my career he had been. And how he enjoyed participating, how
encouraging he was, and how lucky I was to have somebody who was so supportive.

Your parents were "foodies" decades before the word existed. Were they influences on your career as well?

They were very interested in going to the best restaurants, and that's what I did growing up. I was exposed to the whole world of fine dining at a younger age than many people, perhaps. Plus, the table my mother set, the kind of cooking she did and where she shopped was also an influence. It was something I carried throughout my life. It became part of me. There wasn't much use of a can opener in our kitchen.

In your memoir you share the special correspondence between you and your parents while you were a college student studying abroad in France.

If you think about a college student today versus when I was in school: what would they do? I wrote a hundred letters to my parents. Today's students wouldn't be writing letters on airmail paper and sending them home. And how would those memories be preserved? They would be
sending a bunch of pictures. It’s not the same. There's no emotion in pictures, and in these letters, there's emotion, and I treasure that. And I was really glad to have them as part of the writing process.

You talk frequently about "watershed moments" that changed the course of your life. What would you say is your most defining watershed moment?

I think meeting Richard and then marrying him is incomparable. There was a symbiosis that I can't quite explain. I mean, just the luck of the draw of having met him unplanned, totally unplanned.

With decades of experience in the restaurant industry, you share some honest criticism on what can lead to a shortened shelf life for a restaurant. What’s the kiss of death for a restaurant?

A restaurant that doesn't make people comfortable. A restaurant that doesn't lend itself, that is more invested in how it does, what it does, rather than making the customer comfortable and pleased is not a successful restaurant in my view.

Is there anything you want to say about the title?

I'm always conscious of undersalting. Some people may think I oversalt, but I have a salty palate, and that's what I like.

What’s for dinner tonight?

I’m going to a Basque restaurant. I love Basque food, so whatever is on the menu. I know there will be anchovies.