Books

I read The Sharper Your Knife, The Less You Cry: Love, Laughter, and Tears at the World’s Most Famous Cooking School a couple of years ago…so while I’m a little rusty in terms of reviewing it, I feel it’s fully deserving of a blog entry.  First of all, I should clarify, I didn’t read it, I listened to it.  The audio version of Kathleen Flinn’s book caught my eye at a bookstore as I was on the eve of a new job that I wasn’t looking forward to starting.  The book looked inspirational, so I splurged and bought it.

I was so glad I did.  First of all, the story was read by Cassandra Campbell who did a wonderful job of reading the story with appropriate emotion, but without exaggerating voices and emotions as some audio book readers are wont to do.  There was something calming and rhythmic about the way that she read the cooking scenes in particular – her descriptions of chopping, slicing, and dicing were downright calming on my commute.

Moreover, the book itself has a perfect balance that many foodie memoirs lack.  Flinn found the right balance of sharing details of her personal life without giving too much intimate information, while still making this a true foodie book. 

After getting laid off from a successful job in London, Flinn decided to pursue her dream of going to Le Cordon Bleu cooking school in Paris.  She had always dreamed of going to Paris and of attending culinary school, and the way in which she pursued it is truly inspiring.  Her path is not always an easy one – not every recipe is successful, but it makes it all the more rewarding when she does master a tecnnique, a sauce, or a dough.  She has a charming way of telling a story, and I was delighted to discover her blog and website while working on this entry – she is equally candid online and her posts remind me why I respect her as a foodie and writer.  Best of all, it seems like there are more Flinn books in the works!

I recently finished reading Clementine in the Kitchen by Samuel Chamberlain, a nonfiction account of an American family with a French Cordon Bleu trained chef.  I was intrigued by the story as it is partly set in nearby Marblehead, MA, and it is part of a series that Ruth Reichl was editor of.

The Chamberlain family spent many years living in France and returns to America around the start of World War II.  The book accounts the family’s transition from France to America as the French-born and trained Clementine accompanies them.

From some perspectives the book is amusing and enlightening as it allows the reader to compare and contrast many points: France and America today, France and America during World War II, America during World War II and today, food trends then and now, and American lifestyle then and now.  Clementine arrived in America speaking only French, and knowing only French culture, so her naivetes to American culture are amusing.  However, at points, the Chamberlains nearly refer to her as property, which is not amusing.

At many points, the book is a dry account of high society life in Marblehead in the 1940s and nearly half of the book is actually a list of arcane French recipes.  They’re worth a scan, but there was little there that I could envision making today.  In addition, much of the terminology in the recipes is out of date.

Clementine is a likeable figure in the story, and the book would be interesting to a food historian, but is probably a bit dry for the average reader.  Reichl’s introduction is as entertaining as her writing always is, though.  Not a read for everyone, but good for some!

It could be that my French-Canadian blood is actually gushing maple syrup, but I’ve loved the stuff since I was a kid.  I really love it and would gladly incorporate it into any meal: breakfast, lunch, or dinner.  And, it’s got to be the real deal - pure maple syrup from Vermont or Canada, none of that squeeze bottle business.  No, thanks.

So I was thrilled when my friend came back from a trip with a souvenir: the Maple Syrup Cookbook: Over 100 Recipes for Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner.  Mmmm…maple heaven!  I don’t believe in reprinting people’s recipes without permission, but I will share a few fun maple tips from the book to give you a glimpse into why this cookbook is so great.

There are some ingenious ways to use maple syrup in this book.  For example, incorporating it into hot chocolate, using it in the actual batter for French Toast (in the egg and milk mixture), and tips for substituting it for sugar in recipes (which involves decreasing the main liquid in the recipe).  There is also information on the different grades of maple syrup and some stories about maple syrup producers.  The anecdotes that accompany the recipes are charming and sweet.  (They’d have to be sweet, now wouldn’t they?)

I already use maple syrup when I roast sweet potatoes or butternut squash, but there are several new recipes in this cookbook that I can’t wait to try:  Sweet Potato and Bacon Bisque, Maple Bacon Strata, Maple Balsamic Dressing, and Maple Fudge, to name a few.  Mmm, there’s something so comforting about drizzling real maple syrup!

The movie Julie and Julia opens today in the midst of a lot of publicity.  I’m ambivalent about seeing it.  On the one hand, I think Meryl Streep is an incredibly talented actress and, from the previews I’ve seen, looks like an excellent casting choice for the part of Julia Child.  I’m eager to see her bringing Julia’s story to the big screen.  It’s inspirational – the food world would be a very different place without Julia – would we have a Food Network?  Would food be such an integral part of entertainment?

On the other hand, I read Julie Powell’s book, Julie and Julia, and it was less than inspiring.  While I’m sure she was inspired, like many, by Julia Child, I found her book somewhat disrespectful to Julia Child, and I found Julie Powell’s writing to be glib, offensive, and sensationalistic.  While we all want to see similarities between ourselves and those we admire, her constant attempts to draw parallels between her life and JC’s (her moniker, not mine) and her comments on the Great Book (Julia Child’s cookbook, again, her moniker) leave a lot to be desired.  Powell attempts to tell an amusing story about her own life, tied together by tales of her attempts to cook all 500-plus recipes in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Vol. 1, but the cooking takes a back seat, and it’s not amusing.  I like Amy Adams, who will play Powell, but I’m not eager to revisit Powell’s story.

Given my lack of enthusiasm about the book, I’m hesitant to see the movie and wondered if my hesitance was unfounded.  I also wondered if I was the only one interested in only half of the movie.  Last night I read a review of the movie on Gourmet’s site and found that I’m not alone.  I think I’ll wait for the DVD so I can take Shapiro’s advice and, if need be, read (or simply fast-forward) through the Powell half of the movie.

After a long blogging absence that involved a move and a lot of packing and unpacking, I’m back to the blog!  I did take a brief break from moving and unpacking to go see Ruth Reichl on a local stop for her book tour.  She spoke in Portsmouth, NH, at the Music Hall on May 1st to promote her newest book, Not Becoming My Mother: and Other Things She Taught Me Along the Way, which was released in hardcover in April.

I had never been to a book signing event before, so I didn’t know what to antcipate, but I find Reichl to be smart and witty in her books, so I was really eager to hear her speak.  Reichl opened by reading a passage from a previous book, Tender at the Bone, which describes how Reichl’s mother often cooked and served spoiled, strange, and unappetizing foods.  She went on to explain that her mother was truly taste blind, leaving her and her brother to defend favored guests from foods that could make them sick.  Unusual beginnings for someone who is now an editor of Gourmet magazine and a renowned foodie.

Not Becoming My Mother was the product of years of wanting to write about her mother’s mental illness – Reichl’s mother suffered from bipolar disorder.  However, Reichl focused much of her energy talking not about her illness, but about feminism and the times in which her mother grew up.  The title of her book refers to the fact that Reichl’s mother loved her enough to push her not to emulate her mother - she speaks of how smart and driven her mother was – and how bored.  Women of Reichl’s mother’s generation were not encouraged to have ambitions outside of the home. 

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