Potlikker

remedies for the hungoevr

As I enter my fourth decade on planet Earth I'm glad to say that the only hangovers I'm party to these days are the kinds portrayed in theaters and in books. There were a few dangerous years between nineteen and twenty-two when hangovers were a regular thing and so a book like The Hungoevr Cookbook, while very appealing to me now, would fall under my twenty-year old radar for several reasons. First, in the throes of a hangover, I had no appetite the next morning. Sips of cold water and a few crackers were all I managed to keep my stomach settled. Stumbling to class was a feat, opening a cookbook sporting eye-assaulting gold and red pages (ACK!) and assembling a meal with a throbbing headache, cottonmouth, and fuzzy brain, was beyond my ken.

That said, Milton Crawford's book is a perfect remedy for the high-functioning social drinker or alcoholic with a well-stocked pantry. Based on P.G Wodehouse's six hangovers, Crawford concocts a bevy of appetizing breakfast fare to drag the addled brain from its dehydrated fug. But before embarking on the recipes, hangover sufferers face a barrage of optically and logically challenging tests that measure the true level of their cognitive dysfunction. That's the fun part, then the heavy-duty cooking begins.

No, actually, that's where Hungoevr breaks into breakfasts and drinks categorized according to the type of hangover you're experiencing. They are: The Broken Compass, The Sewing Machine, The Comet, The Atomic, The Cement Mixer, and The Gremlin Boogie. Further, Milton rates each recipe by star as to its level of difficulty so that you might gauge whether you should chuck it all and head for your favorite brunch place, or simply return to bed for another few hours.

The breakfast dishes, and drinks--mostly lassis and soda-water based citrus mixtures--are sure to soothe trembling tummies. Japanese, Indian, Turkish, and Mexican-inspired dishes appear, but the most appealing collection fell into the Sewing Machine chapter: The Elvis Presley peanut butter, banana and bacon sandwich. 

Because when it comes down to it, nothing makes me feel better than channeling the King:

A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation aint satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby

So while at first glance you might dismiss this book as a novelty or gimmicky thing, it's actually a tight treatise on breakfast. Oh, there was the disappointing Perfect tea and toast on page 102. For toast you have a packet of bread mix and make and bake the bread. It's very Sandra Lee. Seems easier to use the bread on hand you brought in from Whole Foods, right? That's my only complaint. Otherwise, it's a smart book with clever breakfast recipes sure to impress any number of persons who might wake up in your home after a night's debauch of the liquor cabinet. 

maida heatter's cookies

Now that I have a copy of Maida Heatter's Cookie's I shall never need another book of cookie recipes. This one has them all. This edition, published in 2011 is a reprint of earlier editions from 1977, 1982, 1985, and 1997 and is organized in this manner: Chocolate drop cookies; More drop cookies; Bar cookies; Icebox cookies; Rolled cookies; Hand-formed cookies; And more; and Crackers and extras.

I have one of her cheesecake recipes and admit that I haven't made it. I should. Wolfgang Puck's introduction to this edition of the cookie book does her great justice and calls her the "fairy godmother of anything sweet, spicy, crunchy, chewy, or fluffy that you could possibly imagine baking." He mentions a gingersnap flavored with pepper and mustard, and that, I must try.

Just in looking through her recipes, she makes each one compelling, even though I don't want to make a chocolate chip cookie recipe, her words alone tempt me to try it, to give it a go. Or, her words of advice let you know whether the cookie is appropriate for a picnic or a tea party, or whether it's small size, or large size will feed a few or not enough. Her advice on these matters steers the cookie baker in the correct direction deeper into the book.

Who knew there were so many varieties of cookie? Not I. And before I'd run out and buy any of the spate of new-fangled cookie books that you might find in bookstores--and I seem to recall seeing some out there lately because every food goes through trends, like cupcakes,--I'd stick with Heatter's books because they've stood the test of time and it's likely that the cookie upstarts have used her recipes as a basis for their own. 

There are several macaroon recipes. I've searched for an adequate recipe for sometime. Heatter shares Craig Claiborne's chocolate macaroon recipe, though I may skip the chocolate bit.

The index, of course, is useful. Specifically, I searched for cardamon as an type of cookie, or main ingredient and found it once: Cardamon cookies from Copenhagen. It'll be helpful for finding gingersnaps, shortbread, and snicker-doodles, as those are big favorites in my household.

Kentucky derby

Have you been to Churchill Down in Louisville, Kentucky? It was my first time at the Kentucky Derby Saturday and there were 164K of us, which set a new track record. The food on the ground was what you'd expect from a festival or fair--fast and deep fried: burgers, fries, cheesesteaks, corndogs, hotdogs, kettle corn, cheesecake-on-a-stick.

Nothing extraordinary, and thus, rather disappointing. No bourbon balls. But, I suspect that if you were in a box, the food might be better. Appearing on the red carpet were Martha Sterwart, Bobby Flay, and Guy Fieri. 

The drinks were mint juleps, lemonade, sodas, beer, and some type of red Bacardi cocktail, perhaps a rum bunch. I didn't imbibe and mint juleps are not my thing. I had a lemonade, but didn't drink much at all. The lines to the ladies rooms were very long. I didn't want to wait, nor did I want to use the public restrooms. The weather was low in the sixties and it rained, but that didn't stop the ladies from wearing their frocks and hats.  

The hats amazed me. I do love hats. 

Besides the frocks and hats, most ladies teetered and tottered through the crowds on their tip-toes on stilettos heels. No doubt their feet ached. Many carried an extra pair of shoes. Some paired galoshes with their frocks. Others wore cowboy boots with their frilly dresses. And still others wore the ugly, ubiquitous flip-flip/thong which I find a most disgusting form of foot-wear.

Or, they abandoned their shoes all together and walked around barefooted, which truly disgusted me. Some men wore thongs on their feet, too. Gross.

The men in their seersucker suits and saddle shoes, simply took my breath away. And men wearing linen suits and vests were debonair as well.

as always, julia

Collected letters are a strange breed when they're published in book form. As Always, Julia is the first I've read, actually, because, for the most part, when I've dipped into published letters, they've bored me. But, it's been at least a decade since I've considered reading such an animal.

As Always, Julia features letters written between Julia Child and Avis DeVoto over a decade or so as Child worked on her cookbook Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Child lived abroad with her husband, Paul, who worked for the foreign service. DeVoto was based in Cambridge, Mass., where the Child's ultimately retired.

Child and DeVoto struck up a pen pal relationship after Child wrote a fan letter to DeVoto's husband, Bernard, regarding an article he wrote about the inferiority of American-made stainless-steel knives; they could not hold their sharpness. Child, who was living in Paris at the time, sent an impressive French model. Avis wrote Child thanking her, and a remarkable friendship and correspondence started.

The letters focus on food a great deal. How to make an omelette, how long to cook veal, and a bit of the "what I ate for dinner" that I love seeing/reading, but is much-maligned on food blogs these days because there is no "value" therein. Besides the "what I ate for dinner," readers gain insight into the lives of two mid-twentieth century American women struggling to find meaning in their lives, coping with family pressures, and finding creative outlets for their intellect. 

Politics of the 1950s and 1960s are prominent in the letters; those sections bored me. McCarthy's witch trails, Stevenson's Presidential bids, and other scandals peppered the letters. DeVoto and Child exchanged articles via mail regularly, and that was eye-opening. Who knew? Today it's so easy to photocopy/fax or link to content and they muddled through it the old-fashioned way. They purveyed goods for one another; Child asked DeVoto for a batch of flour sack towels that had virtually disappeared from American markets. Actually, it seemed Child asked more of DeVoto, but regularly plied her with books. The friends read the same books and commented on them to one another.

Most importantly, and the main focus of this selection of letters between the women, DeVoto used her publishing contacts with Houghton Mifflin and Knopf to champion Child's mammoth (700 pages +) manuscript. Over the decade covered in these letters readers understand the sheer amount of time Child spent working through the sections until they were complete. Child revised the manuscript at least three times during the process. Her goal of demystifying French cooking for the American cook was lengthy, but appropriately so. Reading Mastering is like having child peering over your shoulder as you make mayonnaise. Each recipe tells the cook what to expect, how long to execute techniques, and what the end result should be.

The end of the letters saddened me. Of course, once the Child's moved to Cambridge from Paul's last post in Oslo, Julia and Avis lived close enough to chat in person daily, which likely brought a natural end to their regular exchange of letters.

Besides the insight into personal lives and experiences the letters detail, readers unfamiliar with publishing glimpse that industry at mid-twentieth century. Ironically, many of the things DeVoto wrote about what publishers look for in a marketable book are unchanged. For instance, one cookbook was published because of the author's relationship with Neiman Marcus. Publishers were as primed toward authors who have built in audiences then as now.

What else? Avis wrote how she always washed up as she cooked. Mostly, she rinsed, and did little scrubbing. She wished more cooks followed that model rather than letting dishes pile up in the sink for a few days. I'm taking baby steps toward that by rinsing my mixing bowl quick quick quick today after making a banana bundt cake.

And finally, reading the back and forth recipe development and testing between Child and DeVoto stirred my interest in Mastering. I checked out a copy from the public library. No, I won't go all Julie; that kind of obsession is unappealing nor do I have time for it. But I've read the instructions for mayonnaise, and only hope I can find a good bit of veal--even though I've very mixed feelings about veal. And so baby steps with Mastering as well.

As I read, I imagined the audience for this book, and thought it might be small. I've rethought that. Cooks will enjoy reading the genesis of Mastering. Burgeoning publishing types may glean a bit of publishing history from the women's letters. American and Women's Studies scholars should find the letters an invaluable resource for what they reveal about twentieth-century womanhood and politics.

tips for better food writing

Sometimes my mind races after I finish reading a book. I'm usually in bed. I turn out the light. I toss. I turn. I cannot sleep. This happened a few nights ago when I closed Will Write For Food: The Complete Guide to Writing Cookbooks, Blogs, Reviews, Memoir, and More, second edition. It was published this year. Jacob filled my head with her advice. She inspired my thinking about potential articles, blog posts, and books, I might write. Even though she talks about how very few food writers make a living at only writing about food, she spurred my confidence a bit. It's possible that her best bit of advice would be: Don't quit your day job.

Three quick and easy tips Dianne Jacob shares for better food writing in the second edition of Will Write For Food: The Complte Guide to Writing Cookbooks, Blogs, Reveiws, Memoir, and More are:

First, she doesn't say it in exactly this manner, but I shall:

Take it to the body. It's something I learned in creative writing class. Describe the food using all your senses and that makes your writing much better and essentially has the reader sitting in your lap sharing your experience. Describe textures, aromas, and the range of flavors. The velvet texture of the soup as it caresses the back of your throat, etc.

Second, write book reviews. Of course, this one works for foodies who enjoy reading. But, sharpening your writing in the analysis of a cookbook, culinary history, or foodie memoir improves your ability to write because examining another writer's work helps in the construction of your own. You find out what you like and don't like and then can strive to write to your strengths.

And third, complete the exercises she includes at the conclusion of each chapter. I don't complete exercises included in most books. But you can bet that I will do these. They're useful endeavors for focusing your writing. For example, at the end of chapter two she advises burgeoning food writers to write a paragraph about "your passion for a favorite food." Then she gives instructions for reviewing your work and changing generic nouns to specific ones.

And, I'll throw this one in as well. Jacob says, don't write about food nostalgia. A little is okay, but if you want to write a cookbook, or food memoir, then don't write about learning to cook at your grandmother's knee. Every food writer owns this impulse; it's where we start. Agents and editors are bored with reading about cooking from grandmother's knee.

Those were a few nuggets I panned from this second edition. In fact, I own the first edition and never read it. Silly me. Stupid me. I bought it. Didn't read it. I should have because Jacob's advice is relevant for general writers, too. Whether you're writing about kookaburras or monster truck racing, this book helps writers hone their craft and target audiences as well as, or better than, any other general book geared toward wannabe-writers.

The biggest difference between this book and the first edition published in 2005 is the section called "Getting Started with a Food Blog." If I'd known this information earlier, I'm sure that I could have parlayed my online presence into something grander by this time rather than the humble following it is. She interviews food professionals in both books. One of the most helpful devices she employs is her comparative sidebars.

Most of all, I appreciated "How some food writers got their start." Jacob presents from one to three paragraphs liming the career trajectory of people such as Colman Andrews, Molly O'Neill, Russ Parsons, Greg Patent, Ruth Reichl and Alan Richman, to name a few. I'm a sucker for biography short or long. Seeing how others enter a field and evolve helps me more than anything else. Not that I want to replicate anyones path, but seeing the progression from one aspect of a career to the next helps me understand how one could enter a field and eventually expand. It helps with coming up with a short-term (or even long-term) plan.

As to the technical aspects of the book like the bibliography and index, both are tops. Jacob liberally shares resources appropriate to each section. She suggests several books to read if writing a food memoir is your bag, baby. Naturally, my favorite suggestion of Jacob's (other than writing book reviews and blogging) was to read food writing. 

These are the writers she recommends:

• James Beard. 1964. Delights and Prejudices
• Jean-Anthelem Brillat-Savarin. 1825 The Physiology of Taste: Or Meditations on Transcendental Gastronomy
• Samuel Chamberlin. 1943. Clementine in the Kitchen
• Laurie Colwin's Home Cooking & More Home Cooking
• Elizabeth David. South Wind Through the Kitchen
• Roy Andreis De Groot. 1937. Auberge of the Flowering Hearth
• M.F.K. Fisher. The Art of Eating
• Edna Lewis. 1976. The Taste of Country Cooking
• A.J. Liebling. 1959. Between Meals: An Appetite for Paris
• Harold McGee. On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen
• Angelo Pellegrini. 1948. The Unprejudiced Palate: Classic Thoughts on Food and the Good Life
• Waverly Root. 1994. Eating in America: A History
• Joseph Wechsberg. 1953. Blue Trout and Black Truffles: The Peregrinations of an Epicure

The chapter on writing and testing recipes was most instructive for me, since my experience in that area is limited. Most of the information she shared in "Secrets of Restaurant Reviewing" I'd learned from reading Ruth Reichl's book a few years ago.

After my sleepless night I visited a bookstore the next day. I bought M.F.K. Fisher's Art of Eating and Molly Wizenberg's A Homemade Life. I devoured the latter and will possibly share my thoughts about it in a later post. I'm so late to the Homemade Life party, I wonder if I have anything to say that is new. Art of Eating is such a tome. Hope to start it soon.

About blogging: Something Jacob wrote affirmed what I've discovered recently. Most food blogs are recipe blogs. They have recipes as their main content. Jacob says you have to develop storytelling skills to compel readers to return. She talks about blogs being a visual medium. I love to peek at someones kitchen and see the latest dish they concocted. 

Yet, I've noticed how hundreds (at least) of food bloggers follow Ree Drummond's lead in posting a dozen plus photos of their process. Somehow, it worked for her. There's something called the rule of 5 plus or minus 2. Or maybe it's 7. Regardless, people process only so many images. And remember what I said Jacob said about storytelling? If the post if fifty photos plus a recipe, where's the narrative? Where's the writing? I want the storytelling and a great transition. That's my two cents worth.

best in show

Every year Holly Hughes reads hundreds, probably thousands of essays, articles, blog posts, and the like as part of her job as the editor of the annual Best Food Writing series published by Da Capo Press since 2000. I have the 2005 edition, and I know I didn't read it in its entirety and wonder, now, whether I've cracked its spine at all. 

Best Food Writing 2010 offers a snapshot of the issues and trends affecting eaters, cooks, and anyone involved in or interested in food. Hughes selected a great crop of writes to include in this edition. Names that those who study the subject would recognize: Molly O'Neill, John T. Edge, and many more. 

Organizationally Hughes started readers in the middle of a fight. "Food Fights" offers the best selection of writing on the issue that divides foodies quicker than a razor-edged cleaver: to eat meat or not, to eat locally or not, to review online or not. Admittedly, I got a bit heated up when I was immersed in writing that didn't exactly represent my point of view on food and eating. Certainly, it's only logical to read the opposition's arguments. They are good.

Jonathan Safran Foer writes about why he raises his children as vegetarians. I completely agree with his points. Vegetarianism is smart, it's better for the body, the environment, the animals. But it's a difficult choice unless you live in an urban environment whose diversity of products and eateries make it an easy lifestyle choice.

Rachel Hutton's piece on online reviews and how they affect eateries in Minnesota outlines the problems, universal problems, really, facing restaurants in the age of the online review. And Tim Carman's informative, and persuasively anti-Zagat piece, demonstrates Zagat's lack of relevance in light of services like Yelp, Urbanspoon and OpenTable. It's all about transparency, you see. Zagat keeps their ranking methodology secret whereas social networking website for foodies let anyone see the reviews and scores.

Personally, I rely on both. Zagat has never let me down, but the only two I've bought were for the same area, Miami & South Florida, 2007 and 2010 respectively. In fact, the 2010 tipped me off to an excellent Salvadoran restaurant El Tamarindo in Ft. Lauderdale. But services like Yelp are invaluable when I'm in the car in a foreign-to-me place and I want to locate an above-average meal within a mile or less, of my location.

"Dining Around" is the second section and it includes pieces written about specific dining experiences. I loved Patricia Sharpe's article "New Zion Barbecue." She lays out the history of a Baptist church in Hunstville, Texas that sells barbecue on the side. Sharpe's piece was probably my favorite of that bunch and reflects what I like to read about: Just folks serving just folks. Other pieces in the section focused on Tokyo, L.A., and sommeliers.

And while those articles were informative, descriptive, evocative, even, most failed to resonate with me and my experience. Frank Bruni wrote about egging on the sommelier at Le Bernardin's and threw around figures like $150 and $75 bottles of white Burgundy. Those bottles, those tastes in the mouth, are not something that the hoi polli would experience, me included. Just maybe it's fun to catch a glimpse of those fleeting moments of the grandiose lifestyle. For some people. 

Todd Killman's "The Perfect Chef" was first in the third section, "Someone's in the Kitchen." I loved it. Killman chronicled his obsession with Peter Chang, a Chinese chef whose wanderlust, or something, kept him hopping from restaurants all over the mid-Atlantic and southeast. Killman's descriptions of  Chang's food infected me, made me a believer, and I'd love to sample a few of those intoxicating, spicy dishes like the fried fish rubbed with cumin.

Reading Jeff Koehler's "Sardines!" reminded me of how I loved eating the tinned fish when I was a child. His quest for fresh sardines anywhere, everywhere he traveled convinced me that I, too, must eat fresh sardines. In the meantime, I'll browse my grocer's shelves and settle for canned sardines.

In that same section, "Stocking the Pantry" Molly O'Neill's profile of Frank Reese, Jr., who once modeled as the Marlboro Man, made me really consider the turkey. Reese breeds heirloom turkeys. His crusade to revive poultry breeds resounded with me and lit a spark of appreciation for his work on behalf of America's poultry viability.

I also loved reading Mike Sula's piece on "The Charcuterie Underground" which described Chicago's E & P Meats, a local company that makes bacon, sausage, and other meats in the owner's homes. It perfectly illustrates how USDA regulations work for big business, but don't address the special issues of the small, local, agricultural businesses. It reminded me of the excitement I felt when Ian brought home twenty pounds of locally-made sausage a few years ago. Sure, we get moonshine all the time, but sausage is something else. Also, my father is a meat cutter by day (preacher by night). And so I love reading about his industry.

Since we've reached the mid-way point in the book, and I'm still reading it, I'll end with that today and finish up my review with part two, tomorrow. I'm really loving this book. It makes me think. It makes me salivate. It inspires me, and I hope that once you read it, you experience the same effect.

Stay tuned.

bacon the only crunchy meat

For a short time Ian and I worried that our baby was switched at the hospital. Elsa wouldn't eat bacon. But then she came around. She loves it as much as we do. Yay! The family who eats bacon together, stays together. Unless, of course, you're a vegan or vegetarian family. But that's not the focus of this blog, or my problem, really. 

There is a new cookbook called I Love Bacon! and I have a copy of it. The photos of bacon are to die for, naturally. The photographer is the awesome Ben Fink whose work I admired in Cider Beans, Wild Greens, and Dandelion Jelly. 

It seems a little bit wrong for a book called I Love Bacon! to be written/published by an author who lives north of the Mason-Dixon line. But, oh well. What can you do? Surely they love bacon up there as much as we do in the middle and lower halves of the country.

It's a smallish book with a glossy cover that features a pile of bacon. Its recipes, much like the aforementioned Cider Beans, were gathered by Jayne Rockmill from folks she contacted such as Christopher Rendell, Chris Cosentino, Ellen Burke Van Slyke, Monica Byrne, etc. 

As expected, the dishes feature bacon as an ingredient or topping. Yet there is no full-on (full frontal!?) bacon dish. Bacon is paired with other things and never eaten alone. So the savory bacon bread pudding looked like a winner to me. As did the bacon-wrapped mango chutney and manchego-stuffed dates.

Now wait. Maybe that isn't just right. Bacon is the focus in first few recipes in I Love Bacon! There's classic cured bacon which takes you through the steps of rolling the pork belly in brown sugar, kosher salt, pink salt, and pepper. Then you seal this in a container, pop it in the fridge and take it out in a week. Next, there's spicy braised bacon and soy-ginger braised bacon and those require one pound or two pounds (slabs!!) of bacon. Next comes the pork belly. There's crispy pork belly and Chinese-style pork belly. Just hope you can choose between the two.

Bacony desserts (and drinks as well) like chocolate-dipped smoked almond-bacon brittle reinterpret the favorite peanut brittle. Chocolate bacon cupcakes? Meh. Maybe? I looked for a surprise in this one, like, perhaps bacon in the batter, but that was not to be. The bacon is used to sprinkle atop the icing. And the icing was made with bacon fat. Imagine that. For the maple bacon ice cream, you stir in three ounces of minced bacon as you're making the ice cream in your maker or churn.

Nevertheless, all the recipes looked fabulous. There's not one that I wouldn't try. Okay, probably won't do the oysters or any of the seafood dishes because Tennessee is not a coastal state. Fingers crossed, though. What with global warming and rising ocean waters, we can hope that we have an ocean an hour's drive away someday.

Probably not in my lifetime, either. But life is filled with a load of probability.

watch me. watch me eat.

If you're a serious student of food history, then you won't want want to miss Watching What We Eat: The Evolution of Television Cooking Shows. Kathleen Collins covers a lot of ground from the pre-television days of food personalities on the radio to the current crop of hot young thangs on the Food Network. Like I said, though, you've got to be serious about food history to dig into this book.

Collins breaks the book into three parts: The early period 1945-1962; the middle period 1963-1992, and the modern period 1993-present. The early period zeros in on radio shows, the work of home economicists to spread good health and kitchen hygiene throughout the land, the advent of James Beard, and introduces readers to Dione Lucas. 

I thought I "knew it all," about the history of food and media since reading Laura Shapiro's Something from the Oven: Reinventing Dinner in 1950s America a few years ago. In fact, Collins quotes Shapiro frequently. But, I didn't know it all. Far from it.

Julia Child, the Galloping Gourmet, and the Frugal Gourmet comprise the second section in which Collins also adds Joyce Chen and her show Joyce Chen Cooks to the mix. Collins credits Chen with introducing Americans to Chinese cooking techniques and ingredients.Reading about Julia Child is always a treat, but Collins confirmed that Child's show, success, and celebrity were all accidental by pointing out todays emphasis upon celebrity, the cult of personality, and the attractiveness quotient that cooking show wannabes must project.

Then, in the modern era Collins chronicles the establishment of the Food Network and why that was such a change in programming when most media outlets could not imagine networks devoted to a sole subject, which nowadays is de rigueur. Collins dips into Food Network and its stars. She charts Emeril Lagassee's failures and successes as he changed formats in his cooking shows. 

And for me, that was probably the section where I wanted more. Not more Emeril, but more about the individual chefs who have shows on the network. Granted, one could write an entire book about Food Network, but I felt that the complexities of their television cooks was not adequately addressed. However, Collins notes how sex interplays with cooking in the styles and shows of Nigella Lawson, who moans and groans as she tastes the fruits of her labor, and particularly how Giada de Laurentiis brought more male viewers to the network due to her bombshell looks and low-cut blouses. 

So if you want a meaty book to dig into that covers all aspects of the history of televised cooking shows, this is it. Collins contextualizes every television show by grounding it in the changes in diet and lifestyles that Americans adopted during that time frame. Her writing is good, spirited, and informed. Her training as a journalist is evident in her skilled writing and excellent research.

Quite after the fact, by visiting her website and reading her biographical information, I learned that she is a librarian. I was impressed with the back matter of the book, her detailed chapter by chapter list of references and selected bibliography were outstanding. Now I know why. Her index isn't shabby either. Yet, she referenced social class a few times in the book and I failed to note those pages. When I search the index under social class, class, SES, blue-collar, middle class, poverty, etc. I don't find those topics anywhere. Most readers won't criticize the index. So just pretend you didn't read this part.

chockablocka pasta

I blame it on the pasta. Not the alcohol as Jamie Foxx does. Addictive song, especially at the skating rink when you're crossing-over at each turn and dipping your shoulders along to the smooth tunes the DJ spins.

What I blame on the pasta is my zaftig figure. Too much macaroni and cheese as a child. I loved carbs. Still do, but I restrict them. It helps that Elsa will not touch mac n cheese; at least, this month. And then after a few rounds of low-carb diets ala Atkins, I cured myself of ordering pasta or cooking it at home. 

Receiving Mary Ann Esposito's Ciao Italia: Five-Ingredient Favorites put me in a quandary. How can I review a book when I don't really eat the food it contains? Maybe via muscle memory.

Speaking of rap and food, which Jamie Foxx wasn't, strictly, how could you not like any song featuring ice cream: Ice cream paint job. Gotta love food references in rap.

Back to pasta. Esposito arranges the book typically by anti-pasta, soups, sauces, vegetables, etc. You get the drift. And its conception is based upon the concept of less is more. That's something I appreciate about Jamie Oliver's cookbooks, too (at least his old ones, I haven't bought any in the past few years): Simple ingredients, classic combinations. Plus, making something out of nothing informs the recipes as well. That's an approach Esposito inherited from her grandmother, as most of us did in some form or another. Yet, making the most of nothing can be a challenge when you must begin with the best quality ingredients as Esposito suggests. 

Esposito covers pantry, fridge, and freezer ingredients first in an introductory manner that is perfect for the novice, yet tolerable to the seasoned cook. The soup section didn't tempt me, but that's because I prefer Thai soups, period. The black olive sauce caught my eye. I've never tasted one, but her instructions were simple. So simple that it supports her argument for always making fresh sauce rather than using store-bought. 

Surprisingly, each dish does not contain pasta. I expected meats to be served on a bed of pasta or as a side. It was a nice surprise. Naturally, I associate pasta with Italian cuisine and reading recipes for potato casserole; peas and eggs; and mushroom, spinach, and cheese tart was refreshing.

Alas, the desserts were unappealing. I'm not a fan of tiramisu, and thankfully Esposito excluded that ubiquitous treat from her book. For whatever reason, the flavor combinations she created didn't stir my stomach into a lusting frenzy. Except for the Poached pears with black peppercorns and vanilla. I'm a sucker for pears.

Gorgeous photography complements the book. Unexpected angles and close ups capture the textures and nuances of each dish with a rustic flair. One strange observation is that the same photograph was used twice. The delicious cauliflower salad displays a range of purple, white, and green cauliflower. Given the cost of illustrations in books, it seems a negligent oversight on someone's part to include the same photo twice. And while I overlooked the poached egg soup in that section of the book, the photograph made my mouth water and I returned to soups with renewed interest.

Unfortunately I am at a disadvantage because this is the first of Esposito's books I've read. I cannot say how it compares to the other ten she wrote. I can say that it's a solid book chockablock with classic advice for beginning cooks or those exploring Italian cuisine for the first time. Her approach to food handling are universal and applicable to almost any situation and cuisine.

3 reasons to read cakewalk

First, its a memoir. And I love memoir. Don't you? Don't we all? It is the age of memoir.

Second, the author's relationship with food, her evolution as a foodie, and her experiences with food writers and cooks is covered herein.

And third, recipes!

Sounds like the perfect book to me. Those are three good reasons, but so meaty, are they?

So here's the scoop on Cakewalk:

Kate Moses was a fat kid whose admiration for Abraham Lincoln drew the scorn of her classmates. And she was a tall, awkward, and fat teenager. She was possibly a fat adult, or so she thought. She coped with her miserable family life by foundering herself on Twinkies, Baby Ruths, and cookies and brownies she baked for herself and her brothers. 

We all do. Or did, didn't we? Her childhood experiences were poignant:  she was fed, dressed, and sheltered by her parents, but their personality faults, poor parenting skills, and fights created a tense atmosphere for Kate and her two brothers no matter whether they lived in Virginia, California or Alaska. It's rather a typical and atypical childhood. We all can relate to some parts. 

Moses charts her changing relationship with food within the different phases of her life. She describes her role as sweetheart for a fraternity when she attended the University of the Pacific. It mostly entailed "baking sugar cookies in the shape of the fraternity's vintage fire truck," and spending her personal money to keep the boys fed (223). I particularly enjoyed her years at university studying English in her quest to become a writer and learn from her elders. Novel, article, and short story titles recommended to her by her teachers were items I noted for future reading. Moses revels in her introduction to family life and her apprenticeship to an exceptional cook via her boyfriend Peter's mother, Nell.

From adulthood on, Moses seems happy and on the right path. She's surrounded by Peter's family, her English professors, and has enough distance from her parents to thrive. We learn of Moses' triumphs, such as moving into her own place, becoming a mother, and hiring on at North Point Press. And then we follow her trials such as parting from her husband, her unresolved relationship with her mother, and her struggle as a writer.

Each chapter concludes with a recipe for something sweet. Like Coconut Layer Cake, Peanut Butter Cookies, Rhubarb Crisp, Carrot Cupcakes, and Brown Sugar Pound Cake.

Two of the more famous entries include a Persimmon Parfait following a chapter wherein Moses expounds on her friendship with M.F.K. Fisher--and also includes the recipe for chewy walnut brownies that Fisher "deemed 'delicious'". And I'm ever in search of the perfect cheesecake recipe, so her father's favorite cheesecake is on my list now.

Another writer she broke bread with via her position at North Point was Kay Boyle. Boyle turned stale croissants into a bread pudding during one of Moses' visits and Moses re-creates the recipe and includes it on page 307. Must locate source for old croissants to try what appears to be a most-excellent bread pudding recipe. Yum despite my preference against chocolate.

Moses' recall of the 70s and 80s plus the nuggets of popular culture she drops here and there offer great context for a childhood that a small number of we Generation Xers share: the romance of Luke and Laura on General Hospital, a familiarity with The Preppy Handbook (a collectible @ $91), Lip Smacker, REO Speedwagon, Tiger Beat, Peanuts/Charlie Brown, Tab, Ayds, Archie comic books, Captain & Tennille, America's Bicentennial, Pong, Water Pik shower heads, hand-embroidered jeans, watching Johnny Carson on The Tonight Show, and watching MASH on television because there were only three stations and no options.

Besides all this, Cakewalk is a masterpiece of writing. Her writing= perfection. The narrative is enjoyable and her voice is fresh; she turns phrases with aplomb better than a short order cook managing hotcakes on a griddle. And commiseration is easy when there's cake involved.