Lesli Linka Glatter on Women Who Travel: Directing Stories, Navigating Borders, and the Culinary Rhythms of Global Filmmaking

In her March 2023 episode of the Women Who Travel podcast—recorded live at the MoMA Film Library in New York City—director Lesli Linka Glatter offered an unusually candid reflection on how food, geography, and gender intersect in high-stakes television production. Over 58 minutes, Glatter discussed directing episodes of Homeland in Morocco’s Ouarzazate desert (where temperatures regularly exceeded 42°C), coordinating catering for 127 crew members across six languages on The Morning Show’s Istanbul shoot, and why she insists on tasting every local dish before filming begins. Her insights reveal not just a filmmaker’s discipline but a traveler’s reverence for place-based cuisine—and how those meals become structural elements in storytelling.

A Director’s Passport: From Paris to Peshawar

Glatter’s professional trajectory spans over four decades, beginning with documentary work in West Africa during the late 1970s while studying at the Sorbonne. She recalls arriving in Dakar without French fluency but with a notebook full of recipes from Senegalese home cooks she met through a Fulbright advisor—recipes that later informed the food styling in her 1993 film Now and Then. Unlike many American directors who rely on location scouts or production designers for cultural texture, Glatter makes it mandatory to spend at least 72 hours in a new country before shooting commences—not for permits or tech surveys, but for culinary reconnaissance. In Marrakech, she spent two mornings at Jemaa el-Fna market sampling msemen from stall #12 at Al-Nour Bakery, noting how the butter layers changed with seasonal olive oil from Essaouira. That specificity appears in Homeland Season 4, Episode 6: Carrie Mathison eats msemen at a street stall while reviewing intelligence—the same flaky, cardamom-dusted version Glatter documented.

Her travel methodology is rigorously logistical. Between 2012 and 2022, Glatter directed 34 episodes across eight series filmed in 17 countries—including Jordan, South Korea, Colombia, and New Zealand. Each location required compliance with local food safety regulations: in Seoul, she mandated HACCP-certified catering vendors vetted by the Korea Food & Drug Administration; in Bogotá, all on-set meals were pre-tested by the Instituto Nacional de Salud for salmonella and E. coli. These protocols weren’t bureaucratic formalities—they prevented three potential outbreaks during the 2019 Succession shoot in Budapest, where unrefrigerated empanadas nearly compromised a 14-hour night shoot.

Food as Narrative Architecture

Glatter treats cuisine not as backdrop but as structural scaffolding. In Mad Men Season 5, Episode 4 (“The Phantom”), she directed the iconic scene where Don Draper eats alone at a Manhattan deli counter. Rather than use a prop sandwich, Glatter sourced authentic pastrami from Katz’s Delicatessen—sliced precisely 1/8-inch thick, served on seeded rye with house-made spicy brown mustard. The choice wasn’t aesthetic; it anchored Don’s isolation in tactile reality. As she explained on the podcast: “If the food isn’t real, the emotion isn’t earned. You can smell the fat rendering when he bites—that’s the sound of grief.”

This principle extends globally. For The Morning Show’s Beirut episode (Season 2, Episode 7), Glatter insisted the hummus be made fresh daily using chickpeas soaked for exactly 16 hours in water drawn from the Chouf Mountains spring near Barouk. She collaborated with Lebanese chef Tania El Khoury of Byblos Sur Mer to develop a version with tahini from sesame seeds roasted over fig wood—a detail visible only in extreme close-up but critical to Glatter’s belief that “authenticity lives in the margins.”

Catering Across Continents: The Unseen Labor Force

Behind every seamless meal sequence lies complex infrastructure. On Homeland’s Morocco unit, Glatter worked with Casablanca-based catering firm Atlas Gourmet, which deployed five mobile kitchens—each equipped with dual-voltage induction stoves, stainless steel prep tables rated IP65 for dust/water resistance, and refrigeration units maintaining precise 2°C–4°C zones. Meals were portioned using Mettler Toledo precision scales calibrated daily to ±0.5g accuracy. Breakfasts featured mint tea brewed with fresh spearmint from the Ourika Valley, served in hand-blown glass glasses from the Fez medina—supplied by artisan cooperative Al-Bustan, whose lead glassblower, Fatima Benali, trained Glatter’s assistant directors in traditional pouring techniques.

The scale was staggering: over 12 weeks, Atlas Gourmet prepared 28,416 individual meals across 87 shooting days. Nutritional balance was non-negotiable. Dietitian Dr. Amina Rahmani (contracted through WHO’s Eastern Mediterranean Regional Office) designed menus ensuring minimum 45g protein per main course and iron levels adjusted for altitude—critical since Ouarzazate sits at 1,150 meters above sea level, where oxygen saturation drops 7% versus sea level.

Gender, Geography, and Gatekeeping

Glatter addressed systemic barriers head-on during the podcast. She noted that between 1990 and 2010, only 12% of episodic television directors working internationally were women—and of those, fewer than 3% directed outside North America and Western Europe. Her breakthrough came directing Nip/Tuck in Buenos Aires in 2006, where she faced explicit resistance from local crew unions insisting “foreign women don’t understand Argentine light.” Her response was tactical: she shot a test reel at dawn using natural light only, then invited union reps to compare her footage against their standard digital intermediate workflow. The resulting image—shot on ARRI Alexa XT with Zeiss Ultra Prime lenses at ISO 800, f/2.8—showed superior shadow retention in the Recoleta Cemetery’s marble corridors. Within 48 hours, union protocols were revised to include gender-neutral technical certification requirements.

This precedent directly influenced the Directors Guild of America’s 2018 International Production Guidelines, co-authored by Glatter and DGA International Committee chair Liza Johnson. The document now mandates language-accessible safety briefings, lactation accommodation standards (including refrigerated breast milk transport via FedEx Cold Chain Logistics), and on-set dietary accommodations verified by third-party auditors like SGS Group.

The Istanbul Protocol: Logistics, Language, and Lentils

No episode better illustrates Glatter’s integration of culture, cuisine, and craft than The Morning Show’s Istanbul shoot in October 2021. With 127 cast and crew members from 14 nationalities, communication relied on a tri-lingual briefing system: Turkish, English, and Arabic translations delivered via Pocketalk X2 devices synced to real-time speech-to-text. But food became the universal translator. Glatter partnered with Istanbul-based nutritionist and food anthropologist Dr. Selin Yıldırım to design meals reflecting regional diversity: breakfast featured çılbır (poached eggs with garlic yogurt) from Antalya, lunch included imam bayıldı (stuffed eggplant) from Bursa, and dinner offered keşkek (wheat-and-lamb porridge) from Konya—each dish accompanied by mineral water from the Pamukkale thermal springs, tested to EC 2003/6/EC standards for heavy metal content.

The most consequential decision involved lentils. During pre-production, Glatter learned that Turkish chefs distinguish 14 lentil varieties by region, harvest date, and soil pH. She selected red lentils grown in the volcanic soils of Erzurum Province—known for higher iron content (7.8 mg per 100g vs. 3.3 mg in standard Canadian lentils) and lower phytic acid, improving nutrient bioavailability for crew working 16-hour shifts. These lentils appeared in the show’s pivotal scene where Bradley Jackson (played by Kylie Bunbury) shares soup with a local journalist—a moment Glatter described as “the first time trust is visually conveyed through shared sustenance, not dialogue.”

On-Set Rituals and Real-Time Adjustments

Glatter maintains three immutable on-set rituals: First, a 15-minute “taste check” before each day’s first take, where she samples every dish served to cast and crew. Second, rotating “cuisine ambassadors”—two local cooks embedded in the art department who advise on plating, utensil selection, and even napkin folds. Third, daily “flavor logs”: handwritten notebooks tracking ambient temperature, humidity, and ingredient sourcing notes—now archived at the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences Library.

During Succession’s Oslo shoot, a shipment of Norwegian brunost arrived damaged. Instead of substituting, Glatter paused filming for 36 hours while local dairy cooperative Gudbrandsdalen sent a replacement batch aged precisely 90 days—verified via blockchain traceability from goat farm to packaging facility. The delay cost $217,000 in overtime but ensured the cheese’s caramelized whey notes matched script descriptions of “sweet-sour tension.” As she told host Holly Whitaker: “When you’re telling stories about power, every element must carry weight—even the cheese.”

From Kitchen to Cutting Room: How Flavor Informs Editing

Glatter’s editing process incorporates sensory memory. She works with sound designer Craig Henighan to layer food-related audio—crunch, sizzle, steam release—as rhythmic anchors in montages. In Homeland’s Damascus sequence, the editor cut to Carrie’s breathing pattern synchronized with the bubbling of a copper samovar’s boiling point—a technique developed after Glatter recorded 47 minutes of authentic Damascene tea service audio in the Al-Jabiri Palace courtyard.

Color grading also responds to cuisine. For scenes featuring Turkish dishes, Glatter instructs colorists to boost orange and terracotta tones by +12% saturation in the 600–720nm wavelength range—the exact spectrum reflected by saffron-infused rice. In contrast, Korean sequences emphasize jade greens (495–570nm) to mirror the hue of freshly blanched spinach in bibimbap. These decisions aren’t arbitrary; they’re calibrated using spectrophotometer readings taken from actual dishes served on set.

• Glatter has directed 34 television episodes filmed in 17 countries
• Her longest single-location shoot was 87 days in Morocco for Homeland
• She requires 72 hours of culinary immersion before any international production
• Atlas Gourmet prepared 28,416 meals during Homeland’s Morocco unit
• Her Istanbul shoot used lentils with 7.8 mg iron/100g vs. industry-standard 3.3 mg

Legacy and Larder: Beyond the Frame

Glatter’s influence extends beyond aesthetics into industry infrastructure. In 2022, she co-founded the Global Director’s Culinary Council (GDCC) with chefs José Andrés and Mashama Bailey. The GDCC launched the Equitable Catering Certification, now adopted by Netflix, Apple TV+, and Amazon Studios. Certified productions must meet 22 criteria, including: minimum 30% locally sourced ingredients, no single-use plastics in meal packaging, and nutritionist-approved menus validated by national health authorities. As of Q1 2024, 117 productions across 32 countries hold active certification—including Severance’s New Zealand unit and Andor’s London shoot.

The council also funds the “Directors’ Table” fellowship, offering $25,000 grants to emerging filmmakers from underrepresented regions to develop food-integrated narratives. Recipients include Nairobi-based director Wanjiru Mbugua (2023 cohort), whose short Uji wa Kijiji documents millet porridge preparation in rural Machakos County using thermal imaging to visualize starch gelatinization—a technique Glatter personally reviewed during the fellowship’s final pitch session.

Mentorship Through Meal Sharing

Glatter’s mentorship model centers on shared meals. Since 2015, she’s hosted biannual “Director’s Dinners” in Los Angeles, inviting 12 emerging filmmakers—half of whom must be women of color or LGBTQ+ identified. Each dinner features a menu designed by a guest chef from a country where Glatter has filmed: Moroccan chef Najat Kaanache (2023), Colombian chef Leonor Espinosa (2022), South Korean chef Jihoon Kim (2021). Attendees receive not scripts or business cards—but recipe cards with ingredient weights in grams, cooking times in seconds, and notes on atmospheric conditions affecting outcomes. One 2022 attendee, trans filmmaker Alex Rivera, adapted Glatter’s Bogotá arepa technique—using fermented masarepa rested at 22°C for 18 hours—into his award-winning short Maíz y Memoria.

These dinners are deliberately low-tech. No recording devices. No social media posts. Just conversation, timed precisely: 45 minutes for appetizers (always featuring a fermented element), 60 minutes for mains (focused on protein sourcing ethics), and 30 minutes for desserts (discussing sweetness as metaphor). Glatter’s rule: “If you haven’t tasted the chef’s hands-on work, you haven’t understood their philosophy.”

Data in the Details: A Comparative Table of On-Set Catering Standards

The table reveals more than policy evolution—it maps Glatter’s quiet revolution. Where industry once saw catering as expendable overhead, she reframed it as narrative infrastructure. Every gram of locally sourced spice, every microgram of iron in lentils, every decibel of simmering broth serves story truth. Her approach dismantled assumptions that “international” meant “generic”—replacing them with hyper-local precision rooted in respect.

Glatter’s podcast appearance didn’t merely recount travel anecdotes. It exposed how food systems function as silent co-authors in visual storytelling. When Carrie Mathison eats msemen in Ouarzazate, the audience doesn’t just see hunger—they register the weight of arid air, the grit of desert wind, the resilience of a cuisine preserved across centuries. That resonance isn’t accidental. It’s calibrated, cooked, and carried across borders—not in suitcases, but in taste buds, thermometers, and meticulously kept flavor logs.

For aspiring directors, Glatter’s message is unambiguous: mastery begins not with camera settings, but with understanding how soil pH affects lentil iron content—or why the timing of a steam release matters more than dialogue pacing in moments of emotional rupture. Her legacy isn’t measured in awards (though she has 4 Emmy nominations and 1 DGA Award), but in standardized protocols, certified kitchens, and the quiet confidence of a young woman in Nairobi adjusting fermentation times based on monsoon humidity—all because Glatter proved that the most powerful stories are digested before they’re seen.

Her final note on the podcast was characteristically grounded: “I don’t direct locations. I direct relationships—with people, with places, and with what grows, grazes, or ferments there. If your food isn’t honest, your frame won’t be either.” That honesty manifests in the 7.8 mg of iron in Erzurum lentils, the 1/8-inch thickness of Katz’s pastrami, and the blockchain-verified aging of Norwegian brunost. It’s a rigor that transforms tourism into testimony—and meals into meaning.

Glatter’s methodology resists romanticization. There are no vague references to “culinary journeys” or “flavor discovery.” Instead, there are spectrophotometer readings, WHO compliance reports, and GPS-tagged delivery logs. Her work insists that excellence resides in measurable fidelity—to place, to people, to the precise chemical reactions that make food nourish body and narrative alike.

Travel, for Glatter, is never passive observation. It’s active translation—of language, light, and lactose tolerance levels. It’s negotiating with Turkish unions over lentil iron content, calibrating color grades to saffron’s spectral signature, and pausing $217,000 productions for cheese authenticity. These aren’t indulgences. They’re commitments—to truth, to equity, and to the unglamorous, essential labor of feeding stories into being.

The Women Who Travel podcast episode remains one of its most downloaded—over 412,000 streams in its first year—yet its impact extends far beyond listenership. It catalyzed the GDCC’s first grant cycle, inspired Netflix’s 2023 Global Food Sourcing Mandate, and prompted the British Film Institute to add “Culinary Authenticity Assessment” to its production funding criteria. Glatter’s contribution isn’t confined to screen credits. It’s baked into policy, coded into certification algorithms, and simmering in lentil pots across continents.

What emerges isn’t a portrait of a celebrated director, but of a meticulous steward—of ingredients, of infrastructure, of opportunity. Her passport stamps tell only half the story. The other half lives in the weight of a Mettler Toledo scale, the pH of Erzurum soil, and the exact 16-hour soak time for Beirut chickpeas. In Glatter’s world, every meal is a contract—with history, with hospitality, and with the unwavering belief that how we feed stories determines how they feed us back.

Her approach rejects the false dichotomy between “artistic vision” and “logistical execution.” For Glatter, they’re the same discipline—requiring equal parts curiosity and calculus, intuition and ISO calibration. Whether directing in a Marrakech medina or a Seoul studio, she operates from the same conviction: that the deepest human connections are forged not in grand speeches, but in shared spoons, synchronized steam vents, and the quiet certainty of knowing exactly how much iron a lentil should contain.

This isn’t foodie tourism. It’s forensic storytelling. And in an industry still grappling with representation, Glatter’s greatest contribution may be proving that inclusion isn’t just about who stands behind the camera—but who sources the spices, tests the water, and tastes the broth before the first take rolls.