December 2009 Good Reads
Holiday season is busy around King's Grant Farm, so I have much less time to read than I would like. But I have picked up four books that are keeping me entertained.
Postcards From Ed: Dispatches and Salvos from an American Iconoclast, edited by David Peterson, 2006, Milkweed Editions. This is one of those books that you can pick up and read, lose your place, and open up the book in two weeks and read another section and be just fine. Mainly correspondence from incendiary and insightful Abbey, this book showcases his love of the environment and his distrust of the government and big business. I love it when he takes on Wendell Berry, referring to him as a pansy of the Wilderness Society doctrine (my words, not his). After telling Berry that he disagrees with him, he pulls back, asking for a conversation around "vigor"--keeping them both sharp for the larger, more tenuous public audience, as Abbey is not afraid of a good argument.I highly recommend getting a used copy of this book and keeping it by your nightstand when you want an insight into one of our country's early conservationists.
A Moveable Feast, Ernest Hemingway, 1964, Simon & Schuster. Whenever I want to go back to Paris (like I do so now), I pick up Hemingway's classic memoir of Paris in the 1920s. It's more than a literary feast, its an exuberant jaunt through what must have been an altogether youthful and unbridled time. In 1950, Hemingway told a friend that if you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast. I connect with that statement, as I had visited the original city of lights many times in my 20s, and to be sure, it has stayed with me more than I wish to admit.
The Pantry, Its History and Modern Uses by Catherine Seiberling Pond, 2007, Gibbs Smith. Forget jams and jellies, my pantry (the most visited section of this Web site) is my favorite room in this old farmhouse. It's small, narrow enough for just one chair, and yet boasts the biggest, grandest feelings of any room in my home. This book tells stories of pantries that evoke hard times, when the cupboards were bare, good times when the word "larder" connotes fat and happy, and late summer harvest season when you can see your greatgrandmother perspire as she pleasantly ladles sweet peaches into steaming mason jars. In an odd way, the story of the American pantry is the story of America. It's a sleek Manhattan closet hidden with efficiencies and an old, musty wooden butt'rie as the centerpiece of self-sufficiency. With plenty of photos, this is a fun book.
The Soul of the Chef, The Journey Toward Perfection. Michael Ruhlman, 2000, Viking Press. I find something new everytime I read this book. The heat and energy and fear of a commercial kitchen. It's bloodsport. It's artistry under pressure, for those who can survive. It predates all these reality TV shows where asshole chefs yell at people for the fun of it. It's solid entertainment and just slightly less jaunty than Bordain would write in his books. Transports me back to my time in professional kitchens--a time for the young studs of today's restaurant world.