As a general rule of the beach, where there’s a crevice, sand will find its way into it.This applies to cars, bags, odd body parts and books. If you’ve got a book that you’re trying to keep in pristine condition, don’t bring it to the beach — chances are it’ll get scuffed up with sand, globs of sunscreen and a splatter of food stains. A paperback that you don’t mind trashing is preferable.
Two other criteria for the perfect beach book:
Weight. No one wants to lug around a 1,000 page monstrosity. That’s just unwieldy, and tiring to read, especially if you’re lying on your back and holding the book up. 200-400 pages max seems about right.
Ease of reading. There are so many distractions at the beach: scenery, intermittent naps, pretty women… a good beach book shouldn’t overly tax your brain. You want to be able to pick it up, put it down, pick it up, put it down, and not miss a beat in the process. The Da Vinci Code was pulpy trash, but it made for better beach reading than Guns, Germs and Steel.
For these reasons, books about food fit the bill nicely. For instance, the book I’m reading now, The Fortune Cookie Chronicles, would make a great beach book; it’s a look at the origins of Chinese food in America, including the fortune cookie, take-out and General Tso’s Chicken (which, as you might imagine, is not an authentic Chinese dish.) An easy read; an interesting read. I’m loving it. Thumbs up as a beach book.
A few other recommendations:
Heat A behind-the-scenes glimpse at the kitchen of Babbo, Mario Batali’s flagship restaurant. You get a real feel for what it’s like to cook in a high-pressure restaurant environment (not so glamorous), and a much better sense of the larger-than-life Batali himself.
Feeding a Yen A collection of Calvin Trillin essays compiled into a very entertaining and readable book. Trillin travels around the world on a series of culinary adventures — his sense of humor and love of food are infectious.
Garlic and Sapphires Ruth Reichl’s memoirs of her days as the New York Times food critic. Food critic is the job we all want, right? Well, it still is, but Reichl does a good job conveying how exhausting and challenging it can be as well. It’s especially interesting to read about the lengths a critic must go to remain incognito.
The Making of a Chef/ The Soul of a Chef/ The Reach of a Chef Ah, three of my favorite books. Ideally you should read them sequentially, but it’s not the end of the world to read them as one-offs. If you have a deep interest in food, you’ll adore these books — Michael Ruhlman explores how one becomes a chef, what drives the world’s most renowned chefs, and what it means to be a chef in a world of tv superstardom and celebrity. I guarantee this: after reading all three, you’ll start saving up for a trip to Napa Valley and a meal at Thomas Keller’s The French Laundry.
The Apprentice Jacques Pepin’s autobiography. The guy’s my culinary hero — a true icon who exudes class and has somehow remained humble. As you’ll read, he’s had quite an interesting life with several major ups and downs. And holy hell can the guy cook.
(Note: Many years ago in Boston, I took martial arts classes with Pepin’s daughter, Claudine; you may remember her from their series Cooking With Claudine. It took all my restraint not to endlessly pepper her with questions about her father. Did manage to get in a few, though.)
And of course, the Bourdain books are top notch entertaining beach reading, but you’ve probably read those already.
On that note, have a very happy 4th and a relaxing long weekend! Dear God, don’t let it rain.
Beach Reading
As a general rule of the beach, where there’s a crevice, sand will find its way into it. This applies to cars, bags, odd body parts and books. If you’ve got a book that you’re trying to keep in pristine condition, don’t bring it to the beach — chances are it’ll get scuffed up with sand, globs of sunscreen and a splatter of food stains. A paperback that you don’t mind trashing is preferable.
Two other criteria for the perfect beach book:
For these reasons, books about food fit the bill nicely. For instance, the book I’m reading now, The Fortune Cookie Chronicles, would make a great beach book; it’s a look at the origins of Chinese food in America, including the fortune cookie, take-out and General Tso’s Chicken (which, as you might imagine, is not an authentic Chinese dish.) An easy read; an interesting read. I’m loving it. Thumbs up as a beach book.
A few other recommendations:
Heat
A behind-the-scenes glimpse at the kitchen of Babbo, Mario Batali’s flagship restaurant. You get a real feel for what it’s like to cook in a high-pressure restaurant environment (not so glamorous), and a much better sense of the larger-than-life Batali himself.
Feeding a Yen
A collection of Calvin Trillin essays compiled into a very entertaining and readable book. Trillin travels around the world on a series of culinary adventures — his sense of humor and love of food are infectious.
Garlic and Sapphires
Ruth Reichl’s memoirs of her days as the New York Times food critic. Food critic is the job we all want, right? Well, it still is, but Reichl does a good job conveying how exhausting and challenging it can be as well. It’s especially interesting to read about the lengths a critic must go to remain incognito.
The Making of a Chef/ The Soul of a Chef/ The Reach of a Chef
Ah, three of my favorite books. Ideally you should read them sequentially, but it’s not the end of the world to read them as one-offs. If you have a deep interest in food, you’ll adore these books — Michael Ruhlman explores how one becomes a chef, what drives the world’s most renowned chefs, and what it means to be a chef in a world of tv superstardom and celebrity. I guarantee this: after reading all three, you’ll start saving up for a trip to Napa Valley and a meal at Thomas Keller’s The French Laundry.
The Apprentice
Jacques Pepin’s autobiography. The guy’s my culinary hero — a true icon who exudes class and has somehow remained humble. As you’ll read, he’s had quite an interesting life with several major ups and downs. And holy hell can the guy cook.
(Note: Many years ago in Boston, I took martial arts classes with Pepin’s daughter, Claudine; you may remember her from their series Cooking With Claudine. It took all my restraint not to endlessly pepper her with questions about her father. Did manage to get in a few, though.)
And of course, the Bourdain books are top notch entertaining beach reading, but you’ve probably read those already.
On that note, have a very happy 4th and a relaxing long weekend! Dear God, don’t let it rain.