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Remember that dreadful day in 2009 when you learned that Gourmet magazine was to be no more? For many of us, it was a low point in America’s food culture. Reichl, the queen of second acts, was tweeting and publicizing the last Gourmet cookbook in no time, but privately, she was devastated. The new book chronicles that trying year and the comfort foods that pulled her through it, and I got to have a look at it for the Globe.
Meanwhile, the Washington Post asked me to have a look at two new gluten-free books. It’s an exploding genre. There’s books for pretty much any kind of gluten-free fare you can imagine, though for obvious reasons gluten-free baking probably remains the top seller. One was wildly popular blogger Shauna Ahern’s re-imagining of thickened, battered, crusty treats usually off limits to the gluten-intolerant.
The other came from British columnist Susanna Booth, who writes the “Free From” (don’t snicker, now) column for The Guardian. To tell the truth, I would have truly enjoyed reviewing Jeanne Sauvage’s Gluten-Free Wish List, also released last year, most of all. But as Jeanne is a friend, it was proscribed.
Click here to read my review of ‘Gluten-Free Girl: American Classics Reinvented’ and ‘Gloriously Gluten-Free’ in the Washington Post.
A few classy moves translated to the home kitchen – that’s the gist of what I found in The Broad Fork. Some, like the leek fonduta, were good enough to enter the weekly repertoire. But you’re not going to find me picking the leaves off Brussels sprouts and blanching them for one of many components in a compose- d salad – or boiling and deep-frying grains of farro for a garnish again any time soon. At least not until my kitchen staff expands from 1 to 2, or 3.
It’s been a busy summer and I’ve been a bit behind on updates…but a couple of new cookbooks from the new crop are worth looking at. In the Washington Post last week, a review of Atlanta chef Steven Satterfield’s major release.
Click here to read this week’s review of ‘Root to Leaf’ in the Washington Post.
And in the Boston Globe, a review of Brown Eggs and Jam Jars, by blogger Aimée Wimbush-Bourque. It’s yet another tale of homesteading and renewal of the spirit – but it’s a very attractively packaged one.
The good folks at the Washington Post asked me to have a look at ‘Home’ by Washington restaurant insider Bryan Voltaggio, and as a non-DC-based reviewer I felt honored to be asked. Besides, who doesn’t love it when a chef takes his skills back to the home front – restaurant-quality meals scaled down for 4, with equipment all of us have. Easy! and fast! Right?
Well, maybe not. I’ll let you read for yourself. Let’s just say, this is one of those stories where I found myself obliged to use the word “compost”.
Click here to read this week’s review of ‘Home’ in the Washington Post.
Meanwhile, in the Boston Globe today, you’ll find my review of Brassicas. Kale, as you probably know, is so hot – hotter than any green has ever been, probably – that there is an actual global shortage of kale seed. (I couldn’t in fact get any for my own garden this year). But for heaven’s sake, it’s not the only crucifer there is. What about Brussels sprouts? and arugula? and cauliflower? and good old broccoli?
Russell’s book has good suggestions for them all. Please, try them! try them! then maybe we’ll have enough kale for everybody again next year.
At the end of the summer, I was in Manhattan with my son, who was attending fencing camp in midtown. I tooled around town on a Citibike (exhilarating, sometimes terrifying), re-visited a lot of my old food haunts, and hung around in Chinatown quite a bit.
While bopping around Canal Street, I got to re-connect with an old friend, Pearl River Mart. If you lived in Manhattan in the 80’s and 90’s in a boho tax bracket, Pearl River was a life-saver. You could get one-of-a-kind Christmas and birthday gifts for practically nothing,not to mention staples like cotton T-shirts, bamboo everything, and china galore.
If you look carefully at the attached 15-year-old picture, you can see an assortment of paper lanterns from Pearl River – a steal for like $1 at the time.
The authors of Kitchen & Co. are British bloggers billing themselves as “French & Grace” (that’s Rosie French and Ellie Grace). They’ve got a beautiful vision of the good life that’s reminiscent of Canal House Cooking on our side of the pond.
The recipes are freewheeling, colorful, and full of global borrowings. Headnotes are whimsical and evocative: A dessert for a rosy-shadowed evening, A garden lunch for two, Teatime and the leaves are falling. Execution-wise? They’re sometimes uneven. But it does make a charming gift.
Every Grain of Rice isn’t a regional cookbook. It’s an 200+-recipe overview of everyday Chinese cooking, bidding for a place on the weeknight rotation. Does it succeed?
Your first glance at the cover of this book is likely to give you one of two mistaken impressions: 1) it is a beginner cookbook for the starting-from-zero kitchen initiate, or 2) it’s everything you’ll ever need to know about egg cookery.
Neither is true. It’s a very stylish, freewheeling, erratic book from a British bakery in Paris (the bakery book is its own whole genre these days), and it will fit neither your preconceptions about British food nor your preconceptions about Parisian food.
Maybe every year or so, a book that’s genuinely good for beginners pops up. I’m always on the lookout for them, remembering my own inglorious initiation as a cook with my roommate’s copy of 365 Ways to Cook Pasta. (Things got better once I discovered The Silver Palate Cookbook.)
But along comes Keys to the Kitchen, and it’s really quite good. I’m not really sure that people will sit and read through the equipment section to make sure they have the right combination of pots and pans, although I certainly would have. But the recipes are flavorful, well-constructed, reliable, and make none of the compromises many “easy” recipes make in the interests of a shorter ingredient list or not scaring people. Don’t be nervous if the recipe looks a little long, folks! It’s just good explanation, and you’ll be glad it was there when you sit down to your perfectly executed dinner.
Every time a Nigella book comes out, women food writers have to do a self-inspection for jealousy and Schadenfreude. Nigella’s success comes from a number of sources – a privileged background, a robust work ethic, a wealthy husband, the willingness to put on what she calls her “circus act” of buxom domesticity, an aptitude for luscious prose stylings that go with the circus act, and yes, genuinely good taste in food.
Who are we to say that success is not deserved? But when a book like Nigellissima comes out, it’s hard not to carp. Sure, the food is quick, basically tasty, and capably serves 2. But with a little care, it could be so much better – and the rest of us would have no cause to nitpick.