I had/am having a slightly difficult time processing this book. Luckily it is short, very short - like you could read it in two hours short. Here's my thought process as I finish this book. It brings up the age old feminist tale of "don't make me stay in the kitchen, I want a career dammit!" Prob...
This was a beautiful book. The combination of love, sorrow, travel and food all seamlessly woven together was a delight to read.Ruth Reichl is brave enough to be truthful and it makes you love her. A hippie gal living in a commune suddenly gets the job she's always wanted, restaurant critic. Her ...
I listened to this on audiobook. The version I got from the library was read by Bernadette Dunne. Apparently there is a version out there that is read by Ruth Reichl, which I bet is superior. Bernadette was, well, mostly adequate but she mispronounced geoduck. Since I live in Olympia, I think I'm...
I’m not normally a big fan of books about food. They always leave me cursing my limited culinary abilities and hungry for foods that are far outside of my price range, not to mention excluded by various personal dietary choices. I likely never would have picked up anything by Ruth Reichl had I ...
Thursday was wearing a Madonna-like smile. Was it seeing Richard that made her so happy? “You look no worse for wear.” Maggie was giving me the once-over. “I thought you might have the half-starved look of so many out-of-work people.” “You mean like you?” The old enmity had come roaring back, and...
said Claudia. Over the phone her voice was rich as velvet, steeped in mystery and vibrant with dramatic possibility. “I know exactly who you must now become.” “Who?” I asked. “Miriam,” she replied. “Who?” I asked. “Your mother. We shall turn you into your mother.” A shiver went down my back and I...
At sixteen I took off for a college halfway across the country, and from then on returned home as little as possible. When I graduated I was so terrified of getting caught once again in my mother’s orbit that I applied to graduate school. But in 1970 I finally went home. I was about to be married...
But after three years in a French school I was tired of girls and uniforms and Catholic school. Jeanie’s letters were filled with the assassination of President Kennedy, civil rights marches, and guys with guitars in Washington Square. She was listening to Joan Baez and going to coffee houses. I ...