“Pick up your crazy heart, give it one more try…”
Thoroughly enjoyed Crazy Heart tonight. Can’t get the music out of my head, makes me appreciate my years of growing up in rural towns listening to country and the blues. And Jeff Bridges is just perfect, in my opinion.
Anyway, on to food. Quickly, as it’s almost midnight and I have to hit send before the mouse runs up the clock!
You’re right, you wouldn’t put these on a plate and eat them. And while most of these books do contain recipes, they’re scattered here and there. These aren’t cookbooks, but of course you know that. They are food books, though. And those up there are just on one shelf of at least three that I have full of food books. Now this don’t even scratch the surface of my cookbook collection (can’t help talkin’ country after seein’ Crazy Heart tonight), and these are in fact kept completely separate from my food-stained cookbooks.
Depending on the way you look at it, the pitiful (or exciting!) thing is, I’ve only read about half of the books I own so I have my personal little library to consult whenever I want to lose myself in the words of those wise enough to put ‘em down on paper and sell them to the masses.
On this particular shelf, I’ve read all four of Ruth Reichl’s books, Tender to the Bone, Comfort Me with Apples, Garlic and Sapphires, and Not Becoming My Mother. I went through a Ruth phase, and I’ll be in another one just as soon as she publishes her next book. I even went to see her read from Not Becoming My Mother and had her sign a book for dear Meme. She’s one of my favorite food writers – witty, funny, self-effacing, and chock-full of hilarious, touching, and grand stories of eating around the world.
I’ve read many an essay from M.F.K’s The Art of Eating, one of THE most provocative, lush volumes of food writing that’s ever existed. Still lots more deliciousness to seek in that hefty volume, yay.
Food Life: Inside the Life of Food with the Grocer Extraordinaire at Fairway Market. Now this one is speaking to me right now. Or perhaps the haunting whisper is from the two yardsticks-long receipt in my wallet…I decided to embark on a 30-minute drive to Paramus, NJ to “check out” the Fairway market there. (I think I got the idea from Deb at Smitten Kitchen.) A fun few hours spent, but my bulging refrigerator and caving-in wallet are at odds. I can’t give this book much play time right now. Plus, I haven’t opened it for at least a year.
I devoured every essay in Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant on a plane ride from California. Great read.
Went to see Amanda Hesser, Dan Barber, Henry Alford, and Alex Prud’homme read from Eat, Memory in a tiny classroom at The New School (man, NYC is awesome!). Actually, I don’t think I’ve read every essay in the slim volume yet. This book’s going back on my nightstand.
The last essay collection on the shelf, Choice Cuts, edited by Mark Kurlansky, has been skimmed quite a bit, but I definitely don’t have a handle on it. I’ll get there. I hate to admit it, but Elizabeth David’s Italian Food has also escaped me. With all of the food porn both online and in cookbooks now, it’s a rare day when I rush to crack the cover of a black and white, all-text type of book. Still, I know there are some juicy bits waiting for me in there.
I have much to learn from James Villas’ books, and not just the two on my shelf (Stalking the Green Fairy and Between Bites). I’m currently working on his upcoming book, Pig: King of the Southern Table. That’s right, a 480-page cookbook all about PIG.
And oh, Michael Ruhlman. I dig his blog and Ratio has been cruising high on my Amazon wish list. But I am completely and utterly ashamed to admit that I’ve yet to read The Soul of a Chef or The Reach of a Chef. Please don’t ask me why, I have no good excuse. But if I can’t be honest here, what good am I?
This post has only proved that it is both truly pitiful and yet somehow still exciting(!)to me that I have, unread, on my very own bookshelves some of the best food books out there. I just love having things to look forward to.
Like buying the Crazy Heart soundtrack. Pardon me, darlins, gotta split!