It must have been some time around age 13 when I started my love affair with cooking magazines and food writing in general. I had read through all my mother's cookbooks many a time, and was gaining an interest in what other people cooked and ate. I would check out old issues of Bon Appetit and Gourmet from the library, then buy them (or beg Mom to!) once in a while from the newsstand, which ultimately led to my asking for a subscription to Gourmet for my birthday (at age 14? 15?). I remember reading these magazines cover to cover, relishing each word, staring at the photos, trying to dream about what the dishes would taste like. I don't recall whether I was actually cooking any of the recipes or simply drooling on the pages; if I wasn't cooking, at least it gave me an academic perspective on food culture, ingredients, and high-end restaurants where I'd likely never dine.
Ruth Reichl was the editor in chief of Gourmet magazine around the time I started to read it. I've read several of her books already, including Garlic and Sapphires, Tender at the Bone, and Comfort Me with Apples, all of which I recommend. My local library had recently gotten two of Reichls newer books, My Kitchen Year: 136 Recipes That Saved My Life: A Cookbook, and Save Me the Plums: My Gourmet Memoir published earlier this year. I put both on hold, waiting nearly 3 weeks for them to be available. I was so delighted when I got the call that my books had arrived.
I read My Kitchen Year in about 2 hours. It's an easy read, most likely because Reichl does a wonderous job of telling the story behind each recipe. The book is divided into the 4 seasons and reads like the journal the author describes that she kept in preparation for writing the book. The majority of the book takes place at Reichl's upstate NY home, in a part of the state where proximity to local farms, wineries, cheesemakers, and butchers makes it seemingly easy to cook with ingredients of the highest caliber.
The book chronicles key dishes Reichl prepared in the year following the fold of Gourmet magazine in the fall of 2009. Reichl describes the project as what got her through the year following this major life change: "I did what I always do when I'm confused, lonely, or frightened. I disappeared into the kitchen." Aside from the recipes and their background tales, the book is overflowing with some of the most stunning photographs I've ever seen. I'm not referring only to photographs of the recipes. The scenery shots are at the same time raw, captivating, and soothing; a photo of the author flambeeing sautéed chicken livers, I can feel the motion of the pan being jerked back and forth; a plate of unadorned puntarelle, a variety of the bitter green chicory; a photo of an empty bench perched atop a hill overlooking a valley of fall foliage, all beneath a bright blue sky adorned with light wisps of cloud. This book is simultaneously a walk in an art gallery, a tale of personal transition, and hunger-inducing tome. I'm looking forward to trying the beef bulgogi, the eggplant and arugula sandwich, the potato gratin, and any of the many fruit pies and crisps.
In stark contrast to My Kitchen Year, Save Me the Plums is primarily memoir, and secondarily a small collection of recipes. In Save Me the Plums, Reichl goes back to the years immediately prior to My Kitchen Year, writing of her era at Gourmet magazine (1999 to 2009). She discusses how she got to Gourmet, only touching upon the work she had done prior, as this is sufficiently chronicled in previous memoirs, including Garlic & Sapphires, Tender at the Bone, and Comfort Me with Apples. She discusses the transition from writing to editing, from being the employee to being the boss. She speaks candidly of her self-doubt, fear of fitting in, and how to balance staying true to yourself, your goals, and your obligations, all while not hurting others. Intentional or not, Reichl shares valuable life lessons with her readers. The only thing I found challenging about the book was the numerous names of coworkers, supervisors, and friends, which I found difficult to keep track of. I found myself frequently flipping back to previous pages and chapters to remind myself of who was who, and what role they played in Reichl's life. Then again, I never have been good at remembering names.
Other works by Reichl include her 2009 Not Becoming my Mother: and other things she taught me along the way, republished with the title For You, Mom, Finally in 2010. In this sometimes humorous, sometimes sad book, Reichl shows how she is similar to, and completely the opposite of, her mother, Miriam. Reichl has also written another cookbook, Mmmmmm: A Feastiary (1972), and a novel, Delicious! (2014); I need to get access to another library system besides my local one, as neither of these last two is carried by the (very small) library near my home.
Inadvertently, Ruth Reichl introduced me to the world of culinary writing. In the more than two decades since then, food writing has been my preferred genre to read. In this time I've seen that some food writing, as with writing about any other topic, is better than others. I know I can count on Reichl's works to be of consistent high quality; I appreciate her showing me how great food writing can be.
Ruth Reichl was the editor in chief of Gourmet magazine around the time I started to read it. I've read several of her books already, including Garlic and Sapphires, Tender at the Bone, and Comfort Me with Apples, all of which I recommend. My local library had recently gotten two of Reichls newer books, My Kitchen Year: 136 Recipes That Saved My Life: A Cookbook, and Save Me the Plums: My Gourmet Memoir published earlier this year. I put both on hold, waiting nearly 3 weeks for them to be available. I was so delighted when I got the call that my books had arrived.
I read My Kitchen Year in about 2 hours. It's an easy read, most likely because Reichl does a wonderous job of telling the story behind each recipe. The book is divided into the 4 seasons and reads like the journal the author describes that she kept in preparation for writing the book. The majority of the book takes place at Reichl's upstate NY home, in a part of the state where proximity to local farms, wineries, cheesemakers, and butchers makes it seemingly easy to cook with ingredients of the highest caliber.
The book chronicles key dishes Reichl prepared in the year following the fold of Gourmet magazine in the fall of 2009. Reichl describes the project as what got her through the year following this major life change: "I did what I always do when I'm confused, lonely, or frightened. I disappeared into the kitchen." Aside from the recipes and their background tales, the book is overflowing with some of the most stunning photographs I've ever seen. I'm not referring only to photographs of the recipes. The scenery shots are at the same time raw, captivating, and soothing; a photo of the author flambeeing sautéed chicken livers, I can feel the motion of the pan being jerked back and forth; a plate of unadorned puntarelle, a variety of the bitter green chicory; a photo of an empty bench perched atop a hill overlooking a valley of fall foliage, all beneath a bright blue sky adorned with light wisps of cloud. This book is simultaneously a walk in an art gallery, a tale of personal transition, and hunger-inducing tome. I'm looking forward to trying the beef bulgogi, the eggplant and arugula sandwich, the potato gratin, and any of the many fruit pies and crisps.
In stark contrast to My Kitchen Year, Save Me the Plums is primarily memoir, and secondarily a small collection of recipes. In Save Me the Plums, Reichl goes back to the years immediately prior to My Kitchen Year, writing of her era at Gourmet magazine (1999 to 2009). She discusses how she got to Gourmet, only touching upon the work she had done prior, as this is sufficiently chronicled in previous memoirs, including Garlic & Sapphires, Tender at the Bone, and Comfort Me with Apples. She discusses the transition from writing to editing, from being the employee to being the boss. She speaks candidly of her self-doubt, fear of fitting in, and how to balance staying true to yourself, your goals, and your obligations, all while not hurting others. Intentional or not, Reichl shares valuable life lessons with her readers. The only thing I found challenging about the book was the numerous names of coworkers, supervisors, and friends, which I found difficult to keep track of. I found myself frequently flipping back to previous pages and chapters to remind myself of who was who, and what role they played in Reichl's life. Then again, I never have been good at remembering names.
Other works by Reichl include her 2009 Not Becoming my Mother: and other things she taught me along the way, republished with the title For You, Mom, Finally in 2010. In this sometimes humorous, sometimes sad book, Reichl shows how she is similar to, and completely the opposite of, her mother, Miriam. Reichl has also written another cookbook, Mmmmmm: A Feastiary (1972), and a novel, Delicious! (2014); I need to get access to another library system besides my local one, as neither of these last two is carried by the (very small) library near my home.
Inadvertently, Ruth Reichl introduced me to the world of culinary writing. In the more than two decades since then, food writing has been my preferred genre to read. In this time I've seen that some food writing, as with writing about any other topic, is better than others. I know I can count on Reichl's works to be of consistent high quality; I appreciate her showing me how great food writing can be.
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