A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes From My Kitchen

"She makes cookies with Leslie Fretwell!"

"I think her prom date was Billy Bozalis, Lisa's little brother."

Above, just a few of the excited emails between my mother and me regarding Molly Wizenberg's delightful book, A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes From My Kitchen Table.

Of the four cities I've lived in, Molly writes about the two which we overlap-- Oklahoma City and Seattle. And being a third generation Oklahoman, I eagerly picked apart the clues to places and faces she referenced. She writes about running through the yards at the Oklahoma Art Museum's summer jazz concerts (which caused me to call my mom squealing, since I did that too!) and her references to school prompted me to contact my Oklahoma friends, and sure enough, she attended the same school as me! (Although she must have been at least a year behind me).

She also writes about never feeling quite comfortable in Oklahoma and packing her bags at 18, nary a plan to move back. Sounded familiar.

I had my doubts before starting this book. Sometimes bloggers are good at blogging but not so good at writing (and vice versa). It's two different mediums. And sometimes memoris devolve into rants. Would Molly's witty posts about food translate to a book format? Indeed, yes. The book was a narrative and memoir of sorts, detailing her life leading up to her father's death, and her life since. She moved and started blogging just after, so Burg's death was a key point in her life in many ways. Each chapter is a short story about her life and then includes an accessible recipe-- perhaps macaroons or cookies her mom makes, or perhaps the chocolate cake she serves at her wedding. She includes recipes like Chana Masala introduced to her by her now husband, Brandon and salads shared with friends.

Her stories are bittersweet, honest, funny. A rare combination. If, like me, you don't actually know Molly, but feel like you do or feel like you want to, there's a recipe for that: read, relax, enjoy.

5/5 netflix stars (I'm either really loving or really hating books these days).

Alone In The Kitchen With An Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone

Everyone has some experience eating alone. Perhaps you were a BU student and sat in the G.S.U. during a break in your afternoon classes and ate a BK chicken sandwich. Or perhaps you travel for business and order room service. Maybe you just moved to a new city and go out to eat regardless if you have friends yet who will join you.

In Alone in the Kitchen With an Eggplant, Jenni Ferrari-Adler compiles essays by such noted writers as M.F.K. Fischer, Amanda Hesser, Steve Almond, Ann Patchett and Laurie Colwin, about cooking and dining alone (or in one case, the desire to cook and dine alone!). Each essay provides a glimpse into a personal life and often, a recipe.

I picked up this book book because most evenings I eat alone so I wanted to find out how other people did it. Did they overcook like I tend to? Do they snack their way through a box of crackers and a bottle of wine? Did they forego any pretense of nutrition and instead devour a pint of ice cream?

Far from being a sad book on lonliness, nearly all the contributors looked upon their eating alone days as some of the best in their lives. Each essay made me smile and at least half had me laughing out loud.

What do I eat when I eat alone? I'm not a take-out kind of girl and prefer my own lunches to those of the hospital cafeteria where I work. So I cook on Sundays-- lots of quiches and gratins, soups, stews and things that can last a week or live awhile in the freezer. And the nice thing about eating alone IS that I can eat when and what I want. A few summers back I craved a BLT made with one of the juicy heirlooms I'd just picked up from the farmer's market. But rather than buy bread, I decided to make my own. Nearing midnight, my bread hot out of the oven, I made myself the best BLT I've ever had. And reading this book reminded me why, in part, that was. We are our own best company.

Netflix stars 5/5.

Trail of Crumbs: Hunger, Love and the Search for Home

I picked up this book after seeing an ad for it in the New Yorker; a memoir about a young woman's life in France and her love of food...having just finished My Life In France I was still hungry.  Trail of Crumbs by Kim Sunee delivered on the romantic just as Julia Child's book did.  But it was filled with bittersweet and sometimes downright depressing imagery as well.  The end of most chapters contained at least one recipe corresponding to the remembered time and place just described.
Ms. Sunee was adopted by a New Orleans couple after being abandoned on the streets of South Korea with just a handful of crumbs for three days.  Like other books I've read about an adopted child, Ms. Sunee is never quite happy, and doesn't fit in.  She and her sister are the only Asian children in school and she always feels uncomfortable around her parents.  She does find solace with her grandparents, especially her grandfather, from whom she learns the secrets of Louisiana cooking.  As soon as she's old enough to leave home, she does.  She spends a semester abroad in France as her first travel alone.  She wants to become a poet, a writer and learns French.  She is soon able to translate for work.
At a young age she meets men more advanced in years and experience, but being seemingly fearless, Ms. Sunee follows them, looking for her own history.  At 23 she falls in love with a wealthy, nearing 40 year old French businessman with an adolescent daughter.  Ms. Sunee is soon "adopted" into this family with various roles: lover, step mother, social hostess, home keeper and cook.  She only feels truly comfortable cooking and provides the reader for recipes such as spring pea salads and La Daube Provencale, wild peaches poached in Lillet Blanc and Figs roasted in Red Wine.  Some of her recipes are memories of a past both real (Monday red beans and rice, Crawfish bisque) and imagined (quick fix kimchi).
As the years pass she feels more and more unsettled, especially as her partner Olivier establishes a life for her more and more.  She ultimately has to make decisions that women twice her age have a hard time making, and her naivete and inexperience push through her strong facade.  While I respected her for her bravery, I was conscious of her seeming lack of appreciation for a life she had, whether she truly wanted it or not (probably an inherent trait in a young 20 something).
I liked this book, but I was hopeful for more sophisticated self reflection, a la Eat, Pray, Love.  Still, it was an enjoyable read, one that took the gloom out of a bleak Boston Sunday.  4/5 netflix stars.

My Life in France

Continuing on with the French theme...My Life in France by Julia Child with Alex Prud'homme  was my pick for book club.  I was first re-introduced to Julia Child through the popular blog the Julie/Julia Project, where a "serventless American cook" attempts to recreate all the recipes in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  I then read Julie Powell's book based on the blog (so meta!) and netflixed some of Julia's old "French Chef" shows.  I was smitten! 

Julia Child is admirable in so many ways.  When I worry that I am getting older and have nothing to show for it and relatively little direction, I remember Julia.  She married in her mid-30s and only started cooking when her marriage took them to France.  In an era when women were not encouraged to work and were encouraged to raise a family, Julia broke the mold.  Julia threw her passion into learning, cooking, teaching, traveling and living life to its fullest.  I didn't intentionally pick a love story for February's book club, but it became evident that Julia loved Paul more than anything.  They had overlapping interests and supported each other in everything.  Julia did have conflicts-- as with anyone who collaborates with a friend, disagreements ensued.  But despite her frustrations, the friendship remained of prime importance.  And she flaunted her political beliefs, causing a familial rift with her father, but she stuck to her guns and beliefs.
I think my admiration and lovefest for Julia and this book is pretty clear.  I was even inspired to make French Bread!  This book gets an easy 5/5 netflix stars.

Swann's Way and Chocolate and Zucchini

Over four years ago I bought an old hardback of Proust's Swann's Way , the first volume of his Remembrance of Things Past. I thought it would be one of those epics like War and Peace or Ulysses that I could be proud to say I'd read. I'd read it curled on the sofa on a winter afternoon, with tea and cookies by my side. However I let it langour and collect dust on my shelf and finally made a New Year's Resolution to read it. Since that resolution was in 2004, I did my best to get it read before the New Year 2008. Most of the reading was in the SeaTac Airport, and subsequent flight from Seattle to Boston. I conspicuously made my pretentious reading known to my row mates, especially when the pilot kept updating us with the score to the Pats game (only in Boston, only in Boston...).

Besides being known for his lengthy descriptions, Proust is probably best known for his love of madeleines, the small French cookie. Fortunately I didn't have to delve in and wait until volume 3 or something-- the description took place before page 60 in the 600 page book! And because no one wants to read me describing his descriptions, I will instead describe my own attempt to make a delightful madeleine.
The recipe I used (after special ordering a madeleine pan from Amazon.com) was from Clotilde Dusoulier's Chocolate and Zucchini cookbook, based on her delightful blog. I like to think of Ms. Dusoulier as Proust's culinary heir to Paris; her recipes are classic yet updated and all have a story to tell, as she has her own cast of characters, much like narrator Marcel, and his friends and neighbors, in Swann's Way. The recipe I used was for savory Wanut, Pear and Rocquefort Madeleines. It was quick and easy, but since I chowed down on an appetizer of cheese and crackers, followed by an entree of baked mac n cheese, I wasn't so hungry when they came out of the oven. But the cats were! I had one and confirmed that once I am not so stuffed (in a few hours hence), they will taste wonderful.

In all earnestness, Swann's Way really was enjoyable and easy to read. I was surprised by Proust's humor: M. Swann suffers the same paranoia and lovesickness that anyone in a relationship endures. He humiliates himself by spying on his beloved and causing himself to fall out of favor with his preferred society. His characters have their personalities and ticks and his descriptions of places and events are evocative. I found myself laughing at the different characters' predicaments (which no doubt would be trivial had any of them had work or real jobs which to attend). Although Swann's Way is not plot driven and can take some time to read, it is worth it. I'm already looking forward to reading the remaining six volumes! I give both Swann's Way and Chocolate and Zucchini 5 Netflix Stars.