April  2006

My reading tends to range among the broad categories of non-fiction, literary fiction and crime novels. Occasionally I go on a binge of books with a common theme and that is what happened in March. My father died on March 4th and upon my return from his home in California I did not want to read books that featured murderers and psychotics. Nor did I have the focus for literary fare. What I found solace in was a trio of comfort food books. The macaroni and cheese of books. My prototypical comfort food book is Home Cooking by the late Laurie Colwin who wrote about food with grace, wit and passion. Reading one of her essays, such as Alone in the Kitchen With an Eggplant or The Low-Tech Person's Batterie de Cuisine is like a visit with an old friend.

I will not attempt to critique or review my recent mental health saviours, but I enjoyed them all and they served me well. I first read eat, pray, love by Elizabeth Gilbert, whose method of recovering from depression and a hideous divorce was to spend four months in Rome (eat), four months in an Indian ashram (pray), and four months in Bali (love).  I then read Julie & Julia, 365 days, 524 recipes, 1 tiny apartment kitchen by Julie Powell, who challenged herself to cook every recipe in Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking in one year, an epic undertaking which she reconstructs for her readers. Next I read Cooking for Mr. Latte, by Amanda Hesser, who, complete with recipes, chronicles her courtship with the man to whom she is now married.

In a slight shift of genre I read a biography-- the story of an entrepreneur who built an empire out of donuts (and certainly donuts are the ultimate comfort food for many people): Time to Make the Donuts, by William Rosenberg and Jessica Brilliant Keener,  the biography of Rosenberg, founder of Dunkin' Donuts and a fascinating character.

By then I was ready to move into something a little sharper, arugula instead of romaine--it was time to leave my  imaginary friend's kitchens; and so I finished reading The Best American Travel Writing 2003, which I had started when I sat with my father in the hospital, and is so excellent that I have ordered every collection for the past five years. I adore essays and next dipped into a couple of old favorites, One Man's Meat by E.B. White and Alice Let's Eat by Calvin Trillin (who yes, writes about food).

Today it became apparent that I am ready to move out of my comfort zone, which is appropriate for a new month and setting the clock forward an hour. I went to the bookstore to buy Julia Child's new memoir, which was excerpted in Bon Appetit and looks terrific; unfortunately it is not yet available. Disappointed, I stopped at a table manned by a tightly wound red-haired man with a full Boston accent (which, unlike many people, I am fond of). Upon the table were stacks of books with a moody black cover titled Rat Bastards, the memoir of John "Red" Shea, subtitled The Life and Times of South Boston's Most Honorable Irish Mobster. I have a weakness for honorable mobsters and chatted with Mr. Shea, who inscribed my book and gave me a black t-shirt with words "Rat Bastards"  in red letters on the front, and "integrity is everything in life" on the back. That phrase also appears in the author's inscription and so I assume it is a major theme of the book. I gave the shirt to my fourteen year old son who pronounced it pretty cool for a book t-shirt.

And so, I begin April, a month filled with light and daffodils, reading about an "ice-cold enforcer with a red-hot temper," which I think, I hope, means that I am getting back to normal.

Jennifer

Back