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From “The New York Times,” I’m Anna Martin. This is “Modern Love.” I’m a rapid fire you some questions about food. How does that sound?
Sounds good.
OK. Favorite meal?
That’s like asking favorite movie or favorite book. Favorite meal. There’s too many.
I know. Maybe just one of the favorites. How about that?
Goodness gracious.
I’m talking this week with John Magaro. John is an actor with a very diverse resume. Most recently, he was in the movie, “Past Lives,” directed by Celine Song, which was nominated for Best Picture. And his performance in that movie needs to be said, made me ugly cry in the theater. It was not pretty.
John was also in the “Big Short.” And he starred in the indie movie, “First Cow,” which is set in the 1800s, where he plays a cook living on the Northwest frontier. And John’s a cook in real life, too. He loves to eat.
The essay pick for today is called, “My Dinners with Andrew” by Sarah Pepitone. Food is Sarah’s love language, and she talks about falling for a man who was willing to try new foods with her, even the ones that scared him. John said, he could relate.
I, listen. I eat everything. I will eat. I will try anything. One thing I think people might find, just generally who have a weaker stomach, find the fact that I eat like awful a lot.
What is that?
Awful is like organ meat. So, like, I’ll go to Paisanos in Brooklyn or I’ll go to the butcher and I’ll just — or I go to the farmers market. And I’ll get, you know, kidneys and livers and brains and sweetbreads, all that kind of stuff.
You will?
Oh, of course. And then, I’ll cook it up. Yeah, I love it. It’s fantastic.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
You talking about organ meat is reminding me this thing I read about you, that —
That was an interesting transition.
It actually really plays to my hand because I read that to get into your role for the movie, “First Cow,” which came out in 2019, you play a cook named Cookie, who lives with fur trappers in 1800s Oregon. You made all the recipes out of this old cookbook from Lewis and Clark, the explorers.
Yeah.
I heard you made a lot of stews.
Yeah I mean, that’s a lot of what they ate.
That couldn’t have been good.
It was good.
Really?
It was. Yeah.
So —
It’s good. I mean, you know, you got to — you got to do a little — again, the stew is the kind of thing where you can really make it your own. You know, you add some more spices. The base is — yes, if you do the base, it probably is pretty plain. And then, you’re also working with a lot of dried meat, which you have to rehydrate, which is a little weird.
Were you doing this at home? Like —
At home. Was your wife cool with that? She hated it. She hated it. She was like, I cannot have another stew. Stop making stews. And for about two years after that, I couldn’t make any stew, at least not for her.
OK. So it follows that today, you’re reading an essay all about food and how food serves as a love language for the author. For her, eating together is an act of intimacy, but it can also be a point of division. This essay is called “My Dinners with Andrew” by Sarah Pepitone.
Before we get into it, clearly, this author is a woman. You are not. But I think the story works from any perspective. Do you agree?
I agree. I mean, I think it’s about love and lost love and misconnections and eating. And, you know, we’ve been talking about it, but food is very important to me.
My wife and I, one of the big things that connected us right away was eating and, you know, shared meals. I think we both say when we fell in love was, we were eating at Little Owl down in the West village.
Yeah.
And it was one of our earlier dates. And just those experiences of sharing that are very important to me.
Do you remember what you were eating when you thought, I love this woman.
I think she was having some sort of steak dish, some sort of beef. And I was having a rabbit dish.
Wow.
Yeah.
Nothing like meat to make you realize.
Yeah.
I love you.
Yeah.
John, let’s just — let’s just get right into it. Read us this essay.
“My Dinners with Andrew” by Sarah Pepitone.
I was in my favorite restaurant again. Everything in its place, except for the empty seat across from me. I never minded eating alone, though I’d long experienced shared meals, especially really great ones, as the ultimate intimacy.
Since my breakup with Andrew three months before, I’d been avoiding the neighborhood, but a dermatology appointment had brought me uptown. And I wondered what had changed. And anyway, it was a Tuesday, perfect for sushi.
My dinners there with Andrew had always been luxuriously long. Something I relished while he checked his watch and worried about the dwindling hours of sleep he would get before he had to be back at his desk in the morning. But my being happy made his life easier. So he indulged me as often as he could, and I tried not to take advantage.
At these meals, at almost every meal, I was in love.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
Years earlier before Andrew and I started dating, but had already been friends for four years, we’d gone to an Italian place in the Village after a movie at the Angelika. I can’t remember the movie now, but I remember the meal, naturally.
Andrew loves olives, so I talked him into an appetizer plate, prosciutto and parmesan, both drizzled with syrupy balsamic, pickled mushrooms, eggplant salad, and, of course, oil cured olives, his favorite. We had crunchy bread, my favorite, and glasses of red wines we didn’t know.
The restaurant had just opened and was hopping with food lovers, trend seekers, and NYU students. Andrew was satisfied with the meat and cheese and could have done without an entree. But he knew I wanted more.
Should we just get one dish to share, he asked. We don’t have to, I said. I know we don’t have to, he said. We ordered cavatelli with sausage, and it was perfect.
Then we had a small, thin crust pizza, mozzarella. A little burnt. Absolutely without flaw.
I have to tell you something, I said, and I don’t want you to freak out or take this the wrong way or whatever, but I’m compelled to say it.
What? He asked.
I am madly in love with you right now. The night. The food. You doing this for me. It means so much to me. And I just want you to know.
Andrew was silent. I don’t mean to freak you out, I said. I know, he said, pausing. No one has ever said that to me before. Really? Yeah.
We sat in silence, smiling at each other, loving our friendship, thinking about our recent losses, our past loves. My past love had heard these words from me a million times over a million meals. You only love me when we’re eating, my past love used to say. And I would laugh.
And he would say, it’s true. And I would say, no. And then we’d order espresso and sit quietly and then walk and walk and never know the time and never care.
But that love was gone now. And hardly anyone took me to dinner anymore, which is why I was so grateful to Andrew for indulging me.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
We tried the other sushi place first. The “New York Times” had been reviewing small places in our neighborhood, and two were between our apartments. So we picked the one with the blue awning, and I wore a sweater fitted to show that although I’d lost too much weight in my post relationship mourning for the other guy, I did still have a body.
I even wore real shoes, though my low-top sneakers begged not to be left at home. Andrew noticed. He smiled. He tried to make me feel good, knowing I’d been feeling horrible.
He, too, had had a significant breakup recently. But we never spoke of it. I regret that now. I didn’t know he was hurting. I was so blinded and overwhelmed by my own pain, so focused on my own survival.
We let the sushi chef pick our meal, then drank acai and talked real estate. He was paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong decision. He’d been looking at apartments for years. Some he’d seen multiple times and knew how much the owners had made on the resale, yet he still couldn’t see himself winning that bet.
It was a joke among our friends, but it wasn’t funny to him. He’d worked for his money, sacrificed the best years of his life, been unhappy at jobs. He was doing all this for someone, some special woman he hadn’t found yet, who would be the beneficiary of his labor, along with their children, of course.
And he wasn’t about to squander it, his hard earned cash on an investment he didn’t totally understand. There was too much emotion in real estate, he said. It puzzled him. He understood statistics and hard data, not hysteria.
I smiled because I understood hysteria, irrationality, emotion. And he smiled too, because I couldn’t read charts and never wanted to, preferring instead to let someone like him tell me the meaning of numbers, which he loved.
And so in return, he tried food that scared him, which was mostly everything. So it was thrilling for me when he liked something, and he frequently did.
For him, I tried to pay attention to the equity markets, which wasn’t hard because I worked at a bank. And he was delighted when I knew the performance of a stock he traded.
And then one night, we kissed, Andrew and I, in a bar. The smoking ban was only a few months old, and our noses were still not used to the odors once hidden by smoke.
But our lips, also experiencing something new and figuring out how to meet. By then, our friendship was more than five years old. And we never thought of our relationship in any other way. So it was scary, enticing, confusing.
And we had to leave the bar and go to our separate homes to make sense of our senses.
I thought of this on that Tuesday evening, years later, as I walked from the dermatologist to my solo dinner, my face glowing from the microdermabrasion.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
I thought I might cry at the table, but I was calm, excited for my yellowtail scallion handrail, piece of Toro, piece of tuna, piece of mackerel and soft shell crab roll, the spider. I sipped my green tea and felt content, not sad. Anyway, I’d cried enough.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
After I started bringing other friends to the restaurant and always made a point of stopping in when some sort of doctor appointment or sale had me nearby, it was only natural that one day I would bring a date.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
What don’t you like, I asked him, the date. How about what do I like? No, I mean, sushi. How should I order? No seafood, he said. What? I asked. Do you not like sushi?
I like sushi. I just don’t like seafood. Do you mean shellfish? I could see he was getting angry. He didn’t like anything. He wouldn’t try anything. It was miserable. And what he did try, he hated. And he hated me for wanting him to it.
My heart was twisting. Why did you agree to sushi? Because I like sushi, he said, then ordered something with avocado and something with cream cheese. I could hardly contain myself.
Andrew also would have wanted that Philadelphia role, but he never would have subjected me to watching him eat it. Andrew liked eel and sea bass and some crab. And even though he drowned his fish in soy sauce, he was fun to eat with, or at least he knew how to make it fun for me.
That Toro is buttery, Andrew would say to me. Suddenly, I was tearing. I had to excuse myself. My date reached across the table to touch my hand. I’m fine, I said, not looking up.
On the small plate of fruit they give you with the check arrive, two melon slices cut into pieces, two strawberries, two segments of orange. I couldn’t breathe. With Andrew, I’d always take something that wasn’t mine — the second strawberry, second orange. And he’d always protest gently, before letting me have it.
I’d spent eight months after our breakup remembering his endless allergies and the way he literally, ran around his apartment, as if it were a cage, racing to get things done before bed, before work. I dwelled on his tendency to fall asleep in lively bars, his hatred of sarcasm, and most beer.
I remembered his warning, the threat, of fun gets old. But somehow, I’d forgotten about our pattern of sharing dessert. I was so sad for what I’d lost.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
After me, without me, Andrew finally bought an apartment on a block I love near the farmers market and the train. And I understood that my wanting to live in that apartment was not a good reason for us to be together.
I knew we couldn’t satisfy each other and that, as he said, something just wasn’t right. Though those words, him saying that, made me crazy for weeks, months. I didn’t understand how long the hysteria attached to that data would linger.
We’d lost our relationship and our friendship, too. And I felt bad for both of us, for everything. And so, I cried once more while standing on First Avenue in the arms of someone who hates sashimi, but who would likely eat a rice sundae with a scoop of guacamole and a schmear.
The restaurant had changed. It wasn’t mine anymore, and I wished it had closed.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
But it was still there, standing, surviving in this critical, demanding city. And I suppose, yes, so was I.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
I got to get some sushi when we get out of here. Are you kidding me?
Philadelphia roll?
OK. What do we think about that? It’s so divisive in this piece, and I have my own thoughts, but I’ll let you go first.
It’s not sushi.
Yeah, I agree with you.
It’s not sushi.
The cream cheese is — I mean, have you ever had a Philadelphia roll?
I don’t remember.
It’s actually really good.
But it’s just smoked salmon and cream cheese.
Yeah, it is. I mean, it’s a bagel.
I’d rather have a bagel.
Exactly. [MUSIC PLAYING]
More from John Magaro after a quick break.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
John, is there someone you identify with in this essay? Maybe Sarah Pepitone, the author or Andrew? I imagine, you’re not the guy that hates seafood.
No, no, I’m not that guy. I identify with both Andrew and Sarah’s position and what she’s going through in this. You know, this — I think this captures really beautifully dating in New York, because New York is such a city where the dating culture is really going to restaurants.
It’s interesting you said that, because I always caution my friends against going to dinner, because you are essentially held captive for like an hour and a half. Like dinner is long.
But that’s why it’s a good indication —
That’s true.
Of if it’s going to — I mean, you can know.
I know. But then if you know by the appetizer course, what are you going to do?
Yeah. Well, there’s the old you fake the phone call thing. You know, oh. I think there’s an app that does that.
Are you serious?
Someone was telling me about that. You can have an app that calls your phone. You can be like, oh, I got to —
That’s really smart.
Sorry, my mom’s in the hospital. I got to go now.
It always does. But I feel like — and I have to say, I have done that. But karmically, it feels bad to fake a family emergency. But sometimes, you got to do it. Sometimes you got to do it.
Sometimes you got to do it.
So you relate to both Sarah and to Andrew, it sounds like.
Yeah, I think so. I think, you know, and I’d be curious to hear why — you don’t really find out in this essay how it really came apart. Like, I don’t know how long they dated.
Right.
I don’t know why it didn’t work out. But yeah, I’ve had that, where you’ve had — a lot of people I dated in the past or had longer relationships, we started as friends and then we got to this point. And it is sad that you build this thing and you were so close, like you’re best friends. And then when it breaks, you’ll never have that again.
I know. You build up all these experiences together. You have your spots, like this sushi restaurant. And then you end things. And like she says at the end of the essay, it’s not my place anymore.
I mean, in New York, I think if you’re going to — and I was very fortunate that I had probably three big relationships in New York before I got married. And at the collapse of each, I moved to a different neighborhood because it’s kind of like you have — you’ve built these spots. And I could tell you all the spots from the past relationships.
Me too. I cannot go to Bushwick.
Well, if I walk on 58th street —
That’s yours?
That’s where my ex and I basically lived together. And there’s like, it’s above a pizza shop. But it’s just like all these memories come flooding back. And it’s like, that idea that you spent so much, all this experience, all these things together, and then, now it’s just a ghost.
Poof.
It’s a ghost.
I mean, one of the things that I get from this essay is how important it is to Sarah to have a partner who, even if they’re not like as obsessed with food as she is, they’re at least willing to get into it with her and understand why it makes her happy.
She writes that Andrew tries all these foods that he’s scared of because she’s sitting across the table from him. What do you see Andrew doing here?
Well, he’s trying these dishes that he might not like. I think that’s — you know, I think that’s great advice for a relationship. If the person — if this person is not even willing —
Right.
To step slightly out of their comfort zone, how can you forge a successful relationship? I mean, that is one of the core principles of a strong relationship —
Yeah.
Is that sacrifice, is that willingness, is that love, that desire to understand this other person and being willing to step out of your comfort zone. I find it very strange when couples — you see a couple who’s been together for 30 years, married, has kids, and you talk to them and they hate everything. Like they don’t have any common interest together.
And it’s just odd to me. And I think maybe that was more common among maybe our parents or our grandparents generations because that was just how it went. You know, it felt like the husband and wife were almost living separate lives. You know?
I like what you’re saying, that it’s — and that’s really the heart of my question is like, yes, he’s trying these foods, but what really is he doing. And what you’re saying is, he’s showing to her, I can step outside of my comfort zone and step outside of myself and try to meet you where you are, which I think is very important.
I think it’s showing care. It’s showing love. It’s showing interest in what your partner is into and also sacrifice. And those are, you know, those are important.
There’s this other guy that Sarah mentions who — the one who hates the seafood with the Philadelphia rolls. You rolled your eyes. I feel that. And she has a similar visceral reaction to his opposite way of dining than Andrew. What do you think this guy is doing wrong? It’s not just that he won’t try the fish, right?
He just seems to me like the worst — I’m just going to end it. The worst. No, like the most stereotypical man, that old way of thinking of, I eat what I eat and I like what I like. And I’m not going to — if you don’t like it, you can get out of my way.
You know, like it’s just I hate that kind of masculinity. Like, I really hate it. I also hate being at dinners with people like this. This is so snobby and mean. And — but sorry, I’m not the — I am nice, but I’m not the nicest person. I really — like I have to — I’m kind of picky who I go to dinner with.
Yeah. Yeah.
Like I can’t go to dinner with people like this, who won’t try, and they’re just like, no.
You know, the flip side of that is I feel like some people would hear this essay and they’d say, like, this guy is just putting his true self out there, his true self out there. He just doesn’t like seafood, and maybe Sarah should have tried to understand him more. What would you say?
But that’s childish. Like trying things — like that’s — with my four-year-old daughter, you try things, we say three times, and then if you don’t like it, then you can pass. But like, dude, at least try it.
Just like my kid.
I mean, are you a child? And that — I think that’s what it is. It’s like he seems to be looking at himself instead of outwardly.
Yeah.
That’s kind of sad.
You know, we’re using food as sort of a stand in for a lot of things, right. We’re using food as a stand in for intimacy, for connection. I guess I wonder, like when you read through this essay, where she’s describing these meals in such great detail and making these decisions about her partners based on their relationship to food, do you think Sarah is putting too much emphasis on food? Like, is there ever a point where it’s like, let it go?
No, I don’t think so.
Yeah.
But I’m in her camp, so, you know, this happens to be her dealbreaker or whatever or her way she connects with partners. And for me, I identify with that because I feel the same way. But everyone has a version of this, you know.
I think politics is one of those things, some maybe religion for certain people or philosophies or ethics, like certain things can be deal breakers and food could be. But food is so — I mean, that’s the most, even more than politics, even more than religion. Like food is that’s caveman sh*t, like going and sitting there next to the whatever the carcass or the picking berries or whatever. That’s what you did. That’s sharing.
I love that.
Society. That’s society.
No, I love what you’re saying. We often talk about the sort of red flags as, yeah, politics or whatever, like how clean someone’s house is. I don’t know. But another —
I’m even willing to — cleanliness, I’ll even sacrifice like that —
For food. For food. Yeah, for taste.
Yeah.
It makes a lot of sense. I think it might be a — I mean, certainly not for Sarah, but for some people, it might be a more secondary sort of marker of compatibility. But I like what you’re saying. It’s really central.
You know, it strikes me that I see some parallels between Andrew and your character in “Past Lives.”
Sure.
You play a man named Arthur, whose wife Nora, is played by Greta Lee. Nora is a Korean immigrant, and there’s so much that Arthur can’t understand about Nora’s experience. But the beautiful thing is, he tries to.
He takes Korean lessons. He encourages Nora to meet up with her childhood crush named Hae Sung. And by the way, that kindness and trust on Arthur’s part moved me so much because it just shows that he wants her to be happy.
Yeah. I mean, I think realistically it made sense to me. People often are like, well, he’s such a better man, or I could never do that. No man would react that way. But I think what people are maybe sort of confused or blinded by is that Arthur and Nora have been married for several years at this point. Hae Sung is coming over for a weekend.
Right.
And he is leaving. There’s a time — there’s a clock on it. And they’re secure in their relationships. I don’t think there is a real genuine fear that in 24 hours, everything that they’ve built is going to collapse because someone from her past comes and visits.
I know for me personally, I’ve had people from my past who I used to have feelings for come and visit. And it doesn’t, you know — you feel these bubblings of emotions and feelings. But I wouldn’t run off from my wife because, I mean, it’s just — anyway, I think Arthur does what I expect almost any man would do.
Huh?
And that is that love, that is wanting to understand your wife better. And I think one of the beautiful things about “Past Lives” is that by the end, he does understand his wife more. And I think even she understands him more. And the relationship is only stronger for that.
But I mean, the whole movie really hinges on that, whether or not Hae Sung’s visit will awaken something in Nora. And she’ll decide to just leave Arthur for him. And then at the end of the movie, spoiler sorry, end this podcast now if you haven’t seen it yet — Hae Sung goes back to Korea. And the final scene is this incredibly poignant moment between Arthur and Nora.
They hug and she just cries into his arms. It seemed to me like there was some kind of new understanding between them in that moment. What do you think that understanding was?
I don’t think he has ever understood that she really feels like she’s left something behind, that what she has — I don’t think — I mean, OK. My wife is Korean-American. She wasn’t born in Korea, but she’s still very close.
Her folks, they emigrated to the states. And I sense from her that there are pieces of her that kind of immigrant experience. For me, that was, you know, over 100 years ago. That’s my great grandparents.
Right.
I’m red, white and blue, you know, like I’m American. Like I don’t — it’s so alien to me.
Yeah. Yeah.
Whereas it’s still so fresh for her. So for Nora, because she is such a, you know, strong, professional, driven woman who doesn’t cry in front of her husband, I don’t think she’s really ever cried, maybe at their wedding. But I don’t think she’s ever cried in front of Arthur.
In that moment, she cries in his arms. And I think for Arthur, he understands that this little girl was kind of given all these wounds of trauma that she had no control over because she was thrown into this world that she had no — you know, she was dragged to Canada.
Yeah.
And she had to leave this part of her behind.
That embrace, there’s so much — I’m so happy to be in the studio with you telling me what your character was feeling in that moment because, you know, as audiences, we’re watching them embrace. And there’s so much that’s being said without words. And I’m happy that you brought up your wife, too. You’ve spoken in the past about how this role was quite close to your own experience. I guess I wonder, you know, you just kind of outlined the ways that Arthur tries to understand and does achieve more understanding of Nora. Are there ways that you’d be willing to share that you’ve tried to understand or move closer to understanding your wife’s experience?
You know, it’s almost harder when you’re in it.
Huh?
I think. I could probably only point to very superficial things that, you know, like I learned the Korean alphabet.
I don’t think that’s superficial.
Yeah, but it feels — but, you know, that’s what Arthur is doing. And he’s trying to learn Korean. I’ve learned Korean cooking.
Wait, that’s huge. Really?
Like from her mom. Her mom’s a great cook. She’s a fantastic cook. So my eomeoni, she is taught me recipes. And so I’ve tried to cook Korean food. And I, maybe for me, my love of food, being able to share that with my wife and feed her, maybe makes me feel like I’m offering her a piece of her childhood or her experience.
Yes.
Our daughter’s name is So-yeon. We gave her a Korean name. Like, I don’t want my wife or my child to have to hide or lose, because obviously, you’re going to lose it. You’re losing it here in America.
And I’m certain our daughter, unless she goes to school, like some sort of Korean specialty language school, will not probably speak Korean because that’s just how it goes. Once you’re here, you lose. I don’t speak Italian. I don’t speak Yiddish.
But I want, because I know how important it is for my wife, how much she loves her Korean heritage, and how much her parents’ love it. I want to try and let it hang on as long as it can.
John, when you said it was superficial, then you’re going on this whole thing about how you’re making her dishes to connect to her inner child. I mean, that does not feel —
Oy vey.
I mean, I — and I don’t know if, you know —
As I say, aigoo.
What is that — what does that mean?
Koreans say aigoo which is basically like oy vey. And it’s like they’re oy vey.
Aigoo.
I just, you know, and just to say, like my mom is Chinese. My dad is like a Catholic boy from Pittsburgh. And when he was wooing my mom, he too tried to learn Chinese. But he, you know —
That’s a hard one.
Which is really hard.
It’s much harder than Korean.
There is an alphabet in Korean, I will say.
Chinese.
All I’m saying is like, it’s very meaningful hearing you. I mean, my dad’s tried in a lot of ways to understand my mom, but he does speak about the fact that he just never — he’ll never know what it’s like for her. But I really am as like a mixed kid, which it sounds like your kid is growing up also mixed.
It would mean a lot. It means a lot. I’m sure it means a lot to, like, eat a dish, a Korean dish made by your dad. I’m sure that, not just for your wife but for your kid, that will mean a ton. OK. My final question to you. You mentioned that you make Korean dishes, that your wife’s mom taught you how to make them. What is your specialty?
So a really basic Korean dish is kimchi jjigae, which like kimchi stew. And it’s kind of the first — again, we’re going back to stews.
I know.
But it’s kind of one of the first and easiest to make. But I’ve really, at least my wife and my mother-in-law have said, it’s gotten very good.
What’s the next one you’re trying to tackle, Next Korean dish
I want to do jajangmyeon.
What’s that?
So jajangmyeon is like — it’s like a black bean — it’s actually, it’s inspired by Chinese.
Yeah, we do a lot of black beans. We —
So what they call it is, you know how like Chinese food in America is Americanized? So Chinese food in Korea is also Koreanized, if that’s a word.
That sounds so good.
So they have dishes that are inspired by Chinese food, but they’ve sort of made their own Korean version. So basically, jajangmyeon. Is black bean noodles, in a way. But the way you make the sauce is really — there’s actually a documentary right now on Netflix just about jajangmyeon.
Are you serious?
Yeah. Check it out.
So you should — OK, can I pitch you your night tonight? Make that.
That takes a long —
And watch a documentary.
That takes a long time to make. If you’re going to make — you can make an instant version. But if you’re going to do it the real way, that’s like — that’s like a day.
OK, so plan it, but do that soon.
I will do that. I will do that. Yeah.
John, thank you so much for this conversation. So much fun. Truly.
Yeah. Thank you for having me.
Thank you.
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“Modern Love” is produced by Julia Botero, Cristina Josa, Reva Goldberg, Davis Land and Emily Lange. It’s edited by our executive producer Jen Poyant, Reva Goldberg and Davis Land. The Modern Love theme music is by Dan Powell. Original music by Marion Lozano, Diane Wong, Rowan Niemisto, and Pat McCusker.
This episode was mixed by Daniel Ramirez. Our show is recorded by Maddy Masiello. Digital production by Mahima Chablani and Nell Gallogly. The Modern Love column is edited by Daniel Jones. Miya Lee is the editor of “Modern Love” projects. I’m Anna Martin. Thanks for listening.
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