| Male Answer Syndrome (Macho Chef Book Reviews) |
People who pay attention to the credits at the end of movies and television shows or actually read the announcements of
who won whatever literary award will recognize many of the authors who contributed to Ferrari-Adler’s collection. Along
with 23 other accomplished writers, she managed to convince a winner of the Faulkner Award, the recipient of the Literary
Prize from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and a comedy writer for The Daily Show to contribute their
musings related to the theme of cooking alone in the kitchen.
But ‘musings’ is such a trivial word, as if the authors of these intimate stories had doodled a few thoughts on a table napkin
which Ferrari-Adler feverishly collected at hastily planned luncheons before she assembled the reveries into clever
aphorisms from moderately well-known people which she placed in the margin of another incoherent celebrity cookbook.
But Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant is so far from the shallow surface banality of the pop culture cookbook that a
reader will find him or herself emerging from an essay by Holly Hughes and feel the author’s personality sluicing off of the
mind like he or she was wading from the deepness of a favorite swimming hole. A person will stand on Courtney
Eldridge's shoulder as her self-esteem crumbles to the ground from the onslaught of a soon-to-be ex-husband belittling her
low class origins through his disdain for canned vegetables. And M.F.K. Fisher is still there, making the fancy aloofness of
high class cuisine into a topic accessible by those in the population who think McDonald's is a treat because it is a little too
expensive for people on a college student's income.
A person who loves food and good writing will read stories by people who have never had to struggle with a checkbook
in their lives, writers who graduated from fancy schools using money from well-heeled parents, or from chic personalities
that regularly rub elbows with the rich and famous. But this rarified atmosphere is a delight for the reader who uses
literature as an escape. Whether a person is fleeing from the relentless battle of bickering kids, the variability of emotional
spouses, or the exhaustion that comes from a two-income life mashed into a one-income day, that person will find a
welcome break in the pages of this book. And along with a realistic taste of the jet set, Ferrari-Adler elicited stories from
authors who give the reader an intimate history of their salad days as they hobnobbed with the artsy bohemians of New
York, struggled to make ends meet as the final semesters of college loomed in the futures of hopelessly talented writers, or
enjoyed mundane dishes from the unrefined landscape of the American kitchen table. These stories, especially, revive the
dream that just maybe this period in the reader’s life is just a precursor to that time when everyone will recognize and
reward him or her for the amazing human being that resides within the heart of every individual.
Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant is a delight to read. It will appeal to anyone who wants a stronger connection to
the elegance and grace that the simple acts of cooking and eating can bring to the life of a lonely human being.
who won whatever literary award will recognize many of the authors who contributed to Ferrari-Adler’s collection. Along
with 23 other accomplished writers, she managed to convince a winner of the Faulkner Award, the recipient of the Literary
Prize from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and a comedy writer for The Daily Show to contribute their
musings related to the theme of cooking alone in the kitchen.
But ‘musings’ is such a trivial word, as if the authors of these intimate stories had doodled a few thoughts on a table napkin
which Ferrari-Adler feverishly collected at hastily planned luncheons before she assembled the reveries into clever
aphorisms from moderately well-known people which she placed in the margin of another incoherent celebrity cookbook.
But Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant is so far from the shallow surface banality of the pop culture cookbook that a
reader will find him or herself emerging from an essay by Holly Hughes and feel the author’s personality sluicing off of the
mind like he or she was wading from the deepness of a favorite swimming hole. A person will stand on Courtney
Eldridge's shoulder as her self-esteem crumbles to the ground from the onslaught of a soon-to-be ex-husband belittling her
low class origins through his disdain for canned vegetables. And M.F.K. Fisher is still there, making the fancy aloofness of
high class cuisine into a topic accessible by those in the population who think McDonald's is a treat because it is a little too
expensive for people on a college student's income.
A person who loves food and good writing will read stories by people who have never had to struggle with a checkbook
in their lives, writers who graduated from fancy schools using money from well-heeled parents, or from chic personalities
that regularly rub elbows with the rich and famous. But this rarified atmosphere is a delight for the reader who uses
literature as an escape. Whether a person is fleeing from the relentless battle of bickering kids, the variability of emotional
spouses, or the exhaustion that comes from a two-income life mashed into a one-income day, that person will find a
welcome break in the pages of this book. And along with a realistic taste of the jet set, Ferrari-Adler elicited stories from
authors who give the reader an intimate history of their salad days as they hobnobbed with the artsy bohemians of New
York, struggled to make ends meet as the final semesters of college loomed in the futures of hopelessly talented writers, or
enjoyed mundane dishes from the unrefined landscape of the American kitchen table. These stories, especially, revive the
dream that just maybe this period in the reader’s life is just a precursor to that time when everyone will recognize and
reward him or her for the amazing human being that resides within the heart of every individual.
Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant is a delight to read. It will appeal to anyone who wants a stronger connection to
the elegance and grace that the simple acts of cooking and eating can bring to the life of a lonely human being.
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A taste of the famously talented
By Andrew Birden
Food naturally lends itself to remarkable writing. A person can stroll into an ice cream
parlor and tease out the probable flavor of a dessert with the unlikely name of Raunchy
Rum and Raisin, walk along the glass display of a neighborhood meat market and relish
the foreign sounds of mascarpone cheese and prosciutto di parma, or even stumble into
a Denny's Restaurant and chuckle at the unfortunate alliteration on the plastic embossed
menu.
The problem is that food writing inconsistently rises above the pretentious sounds of
self-proclaimed gourmand snobs or expands beyond the clever turnings of ad executives
trapped too long within the confines of a focus group. But Jenni Ferrari-Adler, editor of
Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant manages to demonstrate that food is
simultaneously a linguistic wonderland and a sublime backdrop to the human condition.
By Andrew Birden
Food naturally lends itself to remarkable writing. A person can stroll into an ice cream
parlor and tease out the probable flavor of a dessert with the unlikely name of Raunchy
Rum and Raisin, walk along the glass display of a neighborhood meat market and relish
the foreign sounds of mascarpone cheese and prosciutto di parma, or even stumble into
a Denny's Restaurant and chuckle at the unfortunate alliteration on the plastic embossed
menu.
The problem is that food writing inconsistently rises above the pretentious sounds of
self-proclaimed gourmand snobs or expands beyond the clever turnings of ad executives
trapped too long within the confines of a focus group. But Jenni Ferrari-Adler, editor of
Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant manages to demonstrate that food is
simultaneously a linguistic wonderland and a sublime backdrop to the human condition.