Tender at the Bone - Chicken Liver Pâté

Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table

By Ruth Reichl

289 pages, Random House, 1998

Photo by Aurélie Jouan

Ruth Reichl’s memoir Tender at the Bone ranks among my very favourite food memoirs, and among my favourite books. For many reasons. For one thing, it’s beautifully written in the kind of voice that makes me wish I were friends with the author. For another, it superbly describes the way food can shape the everyday lives and relationships of those who open themselves to it. There are many objective reasons to like this book (inasmuch as there is such a thing as objectivity in the reading experience). But many of the reasons I loved it are actually intensely personal.

Before I continue, you may notice that the photos in this post look much, much better than usual. This is because a friend of mine, the very talented Aurélie Jouan, was kind enough to come over for a photo shoot. I’m so grateful to her, especially since I made her shoot pâté, which is perhaps the least photogenic dish ever. And she still managed to make it look good! You can check out her work at www.aureliejouan.com.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake - Lemon Pound Cake

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake

By Aimee Bender

292 pages, Doubleday, 2010

Originally posted on The Chocolate Bunny on August 22^nd, 2011 and edited for style and content.

The ParticularSadness of Lemon Cake was one of those books that I came upon accidentally at the store. The greenish-blue cover, quirky title font, and, of course, the title and the striking slice of triple-layer cake caught my eye as I was skimming the shelves, looking for Kate Atkinson’s latest novel. I had never heard of Aimee Bender, but after reading her book’s synopsis, I was too intrigued to leave it behind. And I’m very glad I took it home.

  

The novel’s narrator, Rose, is a happy, carefree nine-year-old girl at the beginning of the novel. The first scene is the kind of childhood memory everyone either cherishes or would like to have: she comes home from school to her smiling mother, who is just about to start baking her a birthday cake. But after one bite, Rose realizes something is very wrong: although the cake is objectively delicious and made from quality ingredients, she can taste something else in it, too. Hollowness, emptiness. Her mother’s mal-de-vivre.

Rose soon discovers, much to her despair, that, no matter what she eats, she can now taste the emotions of the person who prepared the food – even in something as basic as a sandwich. Imagine eating a bakery cookie and tasting the boredom and frustration of the person who made it. Or, even worse, discovering your mother’s deep, dark secrets by way of her roast beef.