Women Who Eat
A few weeks ago I sat with a friend on a bench outside a favorite bakery. Dutifully, we stuffed our faces with chocolate cupcakes crowned thickly with buttermilk icing. As I finished the last bite, wiping renegade frosting off the wrapper and licking my finger clean, my friend caught my action and laughed: “I am so glad I surround myself with people who eat!” I conquered and we stood from our bench just as two flagpoles with skirts trotted awkwardly by– dare I say with a longing glance towards the bakery door? “Maybe if they had a cupcake, they wouldn’t drift in the wind like that,” my friend commented as we turned to walk the other way.
In a land where image is everything, who you know is more important than who you are, where childhood diabetes is a growing problem and (according to “The Devil Wears Prada” —or is it the fashion industry at large?) a size 6 is the new 14, it is hard not to become obsessed with body image and the food we ingest. I have heard of girls who eat celery dripping with mustard, the caloric burning brunch and dinner! I have watched others suffer through meals, obviously hungry but refusing to eat, while still others shed their weight “eating” a hummingbird diet of water, lemon juice, Tabasco sauce and maple syrup.
In this very real twisted reality, it is good to surround ourselves with people who can look past the body obsession, understanding that great food is good food. Even better, may I suggest likeminded reading material?
The book, Women Who Eat , edited by Leslie Miller, is a deliciously seductive collection of writing by women. It is memories, recipes, flavors and tastings on the glories of food (as the subtitle suggests). The short essays span women from all backgrounds, creating a truly delicious smorgasbord of language.
“My Life Among Lobsters,” by Gretchen VanEsselystyn, reminisces on growing up on the Long Island Sound. A 9 to 5 corporate father found his true identity when he caught lobsters during the summers; a true hunter. VanEsselystyn recalls how this childhood of lobsters would forever change her life.
Pooja Makhijani also recants her past in “School Lunch” where an urge to fit in in a new country had her wishing for lunchroom bought hot dogs and French fries, over her mother’s homemade aloo tikkis. Makhijani finally finds solace in a new girl and a lunch trade scam that would last a friendship.
In “The Art and Science of the Cocktail Hour,” Rachel Fudge discusses the importance of a tradition that has been overtaken by happy hours and binge drinking.
The short essays, many memoirs of the past including recipes, is a joy to read. It is an opportunity to get into the childhood, the kitchens, and the minds of women, many of whom are known for their prose on food.
The book is a great summer read, the collections of short stories are fast and easy to move through. And if you don’t like one story, no worries because the author changes by the end. Just don’t expect to hold to your diet– the cover alone will seduce you every time you pick it up.
Book Rating: 8 out of 10
Photo Credit: Powells Books
Coincidentally, I picked up this book a few weeks ago at the library before I discovered this site. Sadly, no one in my extended family is a foodie. I was raised with Skillet Lasagna (some packaged monstrosity I don’t think exists anymore) and powdered spaghetti sauce. I enjoyed reading most about the ceremony of good food and the reverence surrounding it. I hope to impart that reverence to my daughter (age 9) but am most often met with “Yuck, can I have peanut butter and jelly?”