"Tori is a foody," her assistant, Kerri Manuell, has told me. And it's true. Tonight is Halloween and we dine by candlelight on salmon steaks, potatoes, sweet potatoes, broccoli, homebaked bread, apple raspberry crumble, and the Chardonnay she loves and might not share with you if you don't honor alternate realities.
     Amos uses food as a way to talk about everything that isn't food. Searching for a sound on "Marianne," a song about a childhood friend who died, she told her musicians "It's kind of like that melon slush that I made ten years ago and poured it out the side of my little hovel when I lived in L.A." Food is how she explains the status of
her record label: "When it's time, that information will be made available, but right now I thinks it's good to let the bread bake in the oven. There's definately some muffins in the oven." It's how she expresses her desire to care for people--"Anorexics need to hang out with me. I know the finest chefs. I do! I've had a few propose marriage and everything!"--and how she describes her harpsicord: "I really was getting a bit bored with the piano; compositionally I just needed a new taste, kind of like another spice, so I got into the red pepper. Cayenne pepper. Cayenne pepper in orange juice, cayenne pepper in spaghetti, cayenne pepper in pudding, and this is what the harpsicord has been." In fact, when I ask her to define her core beliefs, she doesn't have to think. "Lots of food!"