I really enjoy Eric Kim’s writing and it’s exciting that he’s gotten so much recognition. This book demystified a bunch of stuff about Korean cooking I really enjoy Eric Kim’s writing and it’s exciting that he’s gotten so much recognition. This book demystified a bunch of stuff about Korean cooking for me (the sauces, mostly) and I’m excited to try several of the recipes. I was left with a very important question though: what on earth does he have against naeng myun?? ...more
I picked this up because I enjoy books that tell me how I’ve been living my life all wrong by French standards. The advice in this book is exactly whaI picked this up because I enjoy books that tell me how I’ve been living my life all wrong by French standards. The advice in this book is exactly what you would expect, but for me, the real takeaway is that when the author tries to implement her family’s hard-won French eating habits back home in Canada, her efforts tank. This is because the French food culture we all worship so hard stands on the shoulders of generational tradition, subsidized public daycare where cultural norms around food are prioritized, universal healthcare, and a bunch of other things that Americans try to afford by working very long hours which do not allow time for (miraculously affordable) two-hour meals.
I wish like crazy that our kids, and ourselves, were getting the same care, and part of me still idealizes sitting around a table for hours having animated debates about cheese. I’m generally for eating real food, not too much, and locally and seasonally if I have the luxury. And of course I still want to be a chic, cigarette-smoking, messy-haired Parisian woman when I grow up.
But here’s what I else I surprisingly realized after reading this book:
- I like snacks. They’re really fun and I enjoy eating them. If food is supposed to be about pleasure, then I am for sure going to keep eating snacks.
- I really dislike eating, in one meal, enough food to carry me for the next several hours. It makes me sleepy. Hence, snacks.
- I like eating meals while reading a book. It combines two of my favorite things into one superlatively pleasurable activity. I talk to my husband plenty – I’m okay not doing it at every meal.
- I do like a long meal with friends and good conversation. It’s enjoyable from time to time, such as when I’m on vacation. In France. But I wouldn’t want to do it every day. Plus, I’m an American, and I don’t have that kind of time.
I really appreciated that unlike many food memoirs, Onwuachi doesn’t make tenuous connections to food in parts of his life where they didn’t exist. WhI really appreciated that unlike many food memoirs, Onwuachi doesn’t make tenuous connections to food in parts of his life where they didn’t exist. Where they did exist, however, you can see that he was born to cook and the extent to which it drives him. I also really appreciated that he is unapologetic for having a vision and seeking excellence. Compelling and well-written all around. ...more
I enjoyed this, but mostly I learned a ton. Sara Roahen’s love for New Orleans is super evident and there are so many foods I want to try the next timI enjoyed this, but mostly I learned a ton. Sara Roahen’s love for New Orleans is super evident and there are so many foods I want to try the next time I go: a non-roux gumbo, a sno-ball, Gulf oysters, braciole, ya-ka-mein, and a MIRLITON which is also a piece of produce and not just a Nutcracker thing (who knew?). The book is so well-researched that I could see how I’ve barely scratched the surface on my handful of visits, and Roahen covers more than just food. As a New Orleans transplant, she draws us in as fellow outsiders who really should learn about Sicilian heritage and Saint Joseph’s Day, the intricacies of calling yourself Creole, the Vietnamese population in New Orleans East, and the Krewe of Zulu if we’re to keep visiting and enjoying beignets and cemetery tours and drinking on the street. Each chapter gives a lot but also made me want to know more. For instance, there is so much heritage steeped in the food; are there people who exclusively eat in these traditional ways, e.g., red beans and rice every Monday or gumbo on Fridays, every week?
I want to revisit this book before I return, but definitely not yet – for some reason, it took me months to finish. The writing was fine (I wouldn’t call it a clean style, but Roahen is witty and careful and her metaphors are on point - I remember one about a blistered ballerina, which I obviously enjoyed), but there was something about the exhaustive detail that kept me from falling in. ...more
Finished Serve It Forth and putting aside for now. Fisher's writing is best when she's personal, and even the tactile squalor of a kitchen is sexy in Finished Serve It Forth and putting aside for now. Fisher's writing is best when she's personal, and even the tactile squalor of a kitchen is sexy in her hands.
Favorite passage:
There are only three things I need, to make my kitchen a pleasant one as long as it is clean.
First, I need space enough to get a good simple meal for six people. More of either would be wasteful as well as dangerously dull.
Then, I need a window or two, for clear air and a sight of things growing.
Most of all, I need to be let alone. I need peace.
From there--from there, on the sill of my wide window, the plan is yours.
This was more like 3.75 stars. Chin's searching for spiky, curmudgeonly pieces of flora and savoring their unlikely edible-ness is a perfect metaphor This was more like 3.75 stars. Chin's searching for spiky, curmudgeonly pieces of flora and savoring their unlikely edible-ness is a perfect metaphor for her searching for love and acceptance amidst the imperfect relationships and materials she has to work with. The writing is neat and the book feels much more cohesive than your everyday food-was-how-my-family-shaped-me memoir. A couple of honest but awkward human moments (e.g. yelling at a man-friend about his inability to get past his old relationship) kept me from enjoying the book unequivocally, but lovely overall....more
There are so many memoirs of indeterminate purpose these days, particularly with recipes. As with many others in the genre, I never really figured outThere are so many memoirs of indeterminate purpose these days, particularly with recipes. As with many others in the genre, I never really figured out the raison d'etre of this one, but it stands out as much more lushly written than the rest. Intricate meals, global travel, beautiful French clothing, sumptuous bath products (Sunee was involved with the founder of L'Occitane for several years) - all very atmospheric. Even the recipes sound more decadent than your average foodie-turned-memoirist's (almond saffron cake, figs roasted in red wine with cream and honey). Sunee spares no emotional details either, but as we're no longer discussing chicken thighs with cinnamon and dates, the effect is totally TMI. There are fights, meltdowns, affairs, divorces, vulnerable children, inappropriate kite makers, battered women, and an awkward number of details about sex and therapy considering we can Google a lot of these people. It's a shameless hot mess and I can't say I didn't enjoy it, but I left feeling like I'd seen more than my sense of decorum permits. 2.5 stars.
First, there was finding this book. There may have been just one printing of The Ballet Cook Book in 1966; copies have been described as gold dust. AtFirst, there was finding this book. There may have been just one printing of The Ballet Cook Book in 1966; copies have been described as gold dust. At the time I went looking, there appeared to be one copy available in the U.S. at a ruinous price. I stalked that copy for months until one day, conditions finally being right, I pounced. Put it this way - if the house catches fire, I am saving this book.
Then there's Tanny herself:
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I don't think I need to say more about that.
The Ballet Cook Book is a delightfully eccentric collection of personal anecdotes, photos and recipes from ballet giants all over the world. Each chapter ends with the contributor's signature, and Le Clercq's writing is plaintive and charming. The recipes themselves range from traditional European family dishes to the gloriously bizarre. You get Leonide Massine's pesto alla genovese, Sir Frederick Ashton's plum pudding and Erick Bruhn's frikadeller. You have grande dames like Alexandra Danilova lecturing you on the virtues of soup, soup, and more soup, but leaving a recipe for tuna fish mousse instead. The mid-century sensibilities are also great - veal birds, roulades, uncooked frankfurters coated in mayonnaise, liver and ham loaf, floating island, and lots of calls for bouillon, salad oil, and canned vegetables. You get dishes like "Shrimply Delicious" and ballerinas telling you to freeze Milky Way bars and chop them into ice cream. Then there's Bronislava Nijinska's chapter, which contains no recipe at all, just a stern edict: "As an adult and already a dancer I remained indifferent to food and ate very little."
The Balanchine chapter is a treasure trove - a caviar sandwich (at least one inch of caviar or else "better to forget the whole thing"), borshok, paska and kulichi. I'm definitely planning to follow some of these recipes blindly and see what comes out, since there are some crazy photos but I still have no idea what on earth is going on.
I have to apologize to Oliver because he gave this to me in 2004 and I have only finished it today and found it delightful. Back then I was much youngI have to apologize to Oliver because he gave this to me in 2004 and I have only finished it today and found it delightful. Back then I was much younger and took a hard line on books with chick-lit looking covers. I also didn't understand the significance of drinking a latte after dinner, except for the bloating and counter-digestive disturbances that might ensue. Twenty-something me stopped reading the book, not understanding why this was so deal-breakery. Thirty-something me doesn't care, though I still think it's a terrible book title.
But I enjoyed the book. It reads like a compilation of lite newspaper columns, which it is, but I like that sort of thing because it leaves me wanting more. Hesser's writing is skillful, which might be obvious given her credentials, but I found it noticeably more readable than some of the blog-cum-book-deals floating around these days. I love me a blog, don't get me wrong, but the blog books often lack in skill. It was refreshing to read a light memoir like this without being stumbled by the writing. That way, you can focus on things like the "frothy" substance (I'm starting to hate that word in book reviews).
People seem not to like Amanda Hesser very much, but she comes across as so crusty and anxious that I became very fond of her. It's a lucky life but I'm not inclined to call out her privilege. It makes me more inclined to go out and buy a baguette and eat it, which I am about to do.
Also, Hesser's husband is named Tad Friend, which is making me like men a little more.
I haven't eaten at Les Halles or anything Anthony Bourdain-related, so I can't say for sure, but this book made me suspect that Bourdain was meant to I haven't eaten at Les Halles or anything Anthony Bourdain-related, so I can't say for sure, but this book made me suspect that Bourdain was meant to be a writer and not a chef. He gets a lot of life into his words, so much so I started feeling that working thankless hours in a corporate setting must be easy peasy compared to working in a kitchen. Could be, and I'd want to find out, except that as Bourdain notes, the kitchen culture he experienced while learning the trade doesn't exist anymore. A much younger Grant Achatz said basically the same thing in his 2011 memoir, which makes me sad about how large the world keeps getting and how fast recognition turns into celebrity. Which affects even our restaurant-going experience, because can the folks cooking for packed houses every night really pay the same attention they once did to the way individual customers are enjoying their food? I doubt it, though after reading many restaurant/chef memoirs, not coming into contact with the chef is likely a good thing, as many of them sound terrifying....more
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