As someone that used to cook but now writes about food for a living, I’m embarrassed to admit that aside from her association with Gourmet, I knew little to nothing about Ruth Reichl. Gourmet, for some reason, always struck me as a bit fussy and inacce…
As someone that used to cook but now writes about food for a living, I’m embarrassed to admit that aside from her association with Gourmet, I knew little to nothing about Ruth Reichl. Gourmet, for some reason, always struck me as a bit fussy and inaccessible—and so, by extension, I mistakenly assumed the same of Reichl’s writing.
In a somewhat meta-fashion, the first chapter—titled “Magic Door”— of Reichl’s just-released memoir Save the Plums, pulled me in, not releasing its hold until I was nearly through. I was surprised by what Reichl and I share in common: We both are only children to older parents, and have revered food magazines and cookbooks from a young age. We cooked anything our curious mothers brought us (her, a whole pig; me, a whole duck), and kept cooking because of the closeness it afforded us with our reserved fathers (“...he rarely talked about himself, and I was afraid if I uttered a single sound he would stop speaking”).
Read More >>
