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How do I love brie? Let me
count the ways.
I love thee to the edge and
center and rind
My tongue can reach, when
feeling out of mind
For the ends of Aroma and
ideal Taste.
Inspired by Elizabeth Barret Browning's Sonnet XLIII "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..."
I was reading Tenth Muse: My Life in Food (2007) when I flew to Philadelphia back in January. Judith Jones is just one of THE finest book editor who brought out books like Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking as well as cookbooks by Elizabeth David, Madhur Jaffrey, Edna Lewis, and Lidia Bastianich. Besides bringing those women's work to a larger audience, Jones discovered The Diary of Anne Frank while working in Paris for Doubleday. She pushed to have it published in America and we have her to thank for promoting the manuscript.
Her memoir was not so heavy on her personal life. We learned a few details of her childhood and marriage, but the book's focus was on her career and the food circles she traveled in. I learned a fabulous trick that I hope never to use. And I've forgotten the exact details except for what notes I jotted down. At some point Jones's friends had a dog who swallowed a razor blade. She recommended feeding the dog asparagus because it's fibrous composition would pillow the razor in the dogs stomach/intestine, thus allowing it to pass the razor without killing itself.
Another fun anecdote she shared was while she worked with Julie Child. Child was working with a whole pig and she recommended covering its ears and tail with aluminum foil. Or better yet, to tuck the tail into the hole beneath it. What a hoot!
At the end are recipes that I have not tried. They were classics. English and French, I believe. Must return to the back of that book and select a few to try.
Reading food biography and memoir is always a thrill for me. My mother loaned me Paula Deen's It Ain't All About the Cookin (2007) a few months ago and I finally read it in January, even though Deen isn't my very very favorite food personality. It's Nigella, FYI. Her memoir was conversational and colloquial and Deen's voice and phrasing was very evident in the book. So it was almost like being in the kitchen with her chattering away while she cooked yummy, buttery comfort food for you. Actually, before I read it, I knew most of the key points either from my mother or from Blogless Amy's hairdresser who told her all the scuttle butt and then Amy passed it on to me.
The most fascinating part was when Deen talked about her start as the Bag Lady who sold sandwiches to offices around Charleston. From there she catered and opened a restaurant in an economy chain hotel. Learning the progression of her business was delightful, really, and she gives a few good tips about opening your own restaurant, but honestly, I'm sure that she should write a complete and detailed tome on the intricacies of that subject.
Another thing I enjoyed about Deen's memoir was her candidness. She's not one to pretend that her life isn't rosy. Even when she had it made, so to speak, she struggled in her relationship with her step-daughter to be. And the book is peppered with her characteristic and occasional cursing. While it's not heavy reading, it was fun and quick and educational. If you didn't love Deen before reading her memoir, then you should afterwards. There are a few recipes inside, too.
My mom flagged some of the pages and told me she made one of the cakes. Lots of sugar. Lots of butter. And since my sweet mom loaned me her copy (and I was taking way too long with it) and she thought her friend Maggie, who loves Deen, too, would like to read it, she bought her an audiobook so Maggie can listen to it in her car. Her Knoxville commute each day is lengthy. Whew. Can't say much nice at all about Knoxville, oh wait. There are one or two good restaurants there.
