What a Cook Wants, 20

The Way To Cook
I spent a summer on Nantucket as a personal chef for a grumpy, demanding woman named Mrs. Bingham who had a marvelous house~ with an untouched tricked-out kitchen!~ tucked deep into the sand dunes with its own private beach. Our neighbor was the Kennedy compound (if only they'd dropped by!), and my housemates were two very spoiled but sweet Scottish terriers.
The only problem? I didn't really know how to cook. Sure, I'd worked as a short order cook at college, waitressed at a place where we made Caesar salad tableside (I still make the best, baby!), and I'd nearly perfected the microwave Egg McMuffin, but it turned out this lady was able to get tables at NY's most luscious restaurants and loved poached salmon and crème brûlée.

I had no idea what crème brûlée was.

I had never poached a salmon.

After we discussed the first menu I stood in the kitchen alone, my heart clanging against my ribs. I knew I was a good cook, knew I could channel my Pop-Pop's palette and read a recipe as well as anyone else, but I was beyond my skills. I was screwed. My throat began to tighten, but then I noticed the shelf. There were books on it, and one of them was Julia Child's The Way to Cook. That title held promise, and Julia delivered. She was precisely what I needed, and as the summer continued I grew more ambitious with homemade tarragon mayonnaise (there's a reason the French call it a sauce!) and an apple crisp that made Mrs. Bingham the toast of the dinner party circuit.
Her style was so accessible and friendly, she was fearless as she dismantled raw ducks and shucked oysters; she wasn't intimidated by the thought of poaching a huge 4 pound salmon fillet. I borrowed her courage.
I suppose I borrowed it again when I started this blog. My title is an homage, even though no one gets it. I realized I could help people find the joy and fearless pleasure in eating, just like Julia did for me with cooking.
Which is all a very long-winded way of saying this cookbook would make a great gift. For anyone.
$26 for this 512-page tome. It changed my life. How many books do that?

( hungry ) lessons learned on the journey from fat to thin

I just polished off this delightul morsel by Allen Zadoff. Dear reader, it kicks ass. This is my first book review here, what a great one to start!
Full disclosure: the author, Allen, is what I would consider a Friendly Acquaintance. We haven't been out for coffee, but we've been to many of the same gatherings and chatted at length. I respected him before I read his book. Make of it what you will!
I haven't written about eating disorders before either, because I (luckily) don't have one. However, I think it's hard to be a person in America~ let alone a lady in Los Angeles!~ and not struggle with some body image issues. I have difficulty accepting my juicy thighs, for example (see below) and know many friends who hate their breasts, or are ashamed not to have six-pack abs.

Zadoff's book is the best sort of memoir: he gives up the juicy stuff most people don't divulge, is brutally honest and bitingly funny at the same time. We never drown in a puddle of pity or despair because he doesn't either. He's shockingly compassionate as he reflects on his lowest moments (an example I appreciate!), and explains complex emotional processes and motivations in simple, clear ways that helped me identify my own.
He takes an unflinching survey of his relationship to food and overeating: from his delicious discovery of Devil Dogs at age six through teenage loneliness compensated by large pizzas and Doritos, his frantic run through a zillion failed diets and a mid-twenties full of misery and isolation (with its steady companion, fantasy), until his scale tipped way over 300 pounds. At 28 he finally surrendered and reached out for help; the meatiest cuts of the book follow. His words are best here,
Over the course of a year, more than 100 pounds fell from my body, and my thin life, the one I'd been waiting nearly 30 years for, finally began. It was nothing like I expected. For starters, Calvin Klein did not call with a modeling offer. The gifts of the thin life, which I'd always assumed included a beautiful wife, gorgeous house, and handsome Labrador retriever, did not materialize. My life was not suddenly perfect. It was a lot more interesting than that. It turned out that losing weight was only the first step in a much larger and more amazing journey.
I've read a lot of literature on eating disorders; Zadoff doesn't offer elaborate food plans, "tricks" for cutting calories, or grand theories as to why so many over (or under!) indulge. He does something far more shocking: he gives us a spiritual perspective on the journey "from fat to thin," with humilty and humor. And he admits his slim tome is not a self-help book, "because I cannot help myself." What a delight to hear from someone who admits he needs the wisdom and guidance of others, whether it be the community of overeaters he discovers or his "personal connection to a power greater than myself." His lack of ego and gentle tone actually made me listen a little closer.
I picked it up last night and couldn't put it down until I finished it this afternoon. Please check it out if you're so inclined, what a thrilling ride through a tempestuous Devil Dog sea!

Avotired

I just e-mailed off my last set of corrections and changes for the avocado cookbook I've been editing. This project lasted much longer than I expected, although the Chileans I've been working for have been incredibly pleasant, flexible, and overall a delight. The book looks great, and I'm proud to have my name in it. I know more about Chilean Hass Avocados than I knew there was to know.
But I am so darn tired. It's 1 in the morning. I don't want to look at another avocado until 2007. I'm avozhausted.