Female Nomad and Friends: Tales of Breaking Free and Breaking Bread Around the World

By Rita Golden Gelman
Three Rivers Press

I love reading essay collections. For a voracious reader without much free time, the ability to pick up a book, read a few self-contained pages that pack a punch, and go on to the next task is so rewarding. And unlike reading blog posts, I don’t feel the need to comment or otherwise let the author know that I was there.

Female Nomad and Friends is an absolute treat for women who love to travel and connect with new people. Even for those who simply dream about it, but don’t have the means or the fearlessness to travel to exotic places, this book offers funny stories, unbelievable adventures, and... recipes.

Rita Golden Gelman received such tremendous feedback from her book of travel stories, Tales of a Female Nomad, that she decided to collect some of her favorite fan responses and publish them. Another friend suggested she add recipes and, voila, the book was born.

The essays are organized into different themes: Connecting, Language, Food, Passion, etc. and give the reader a colorful array of experiences that span the globe. The women who contributed stories to the book had predictably unpredictable mishaps, some titillating moments, a few frightening culinary experiences, and ultimately learned some universal truths about people and themselves along the way. In the past few decades, the world has gotten smaller and it is easy to take for granted how easily we can glean facts about life halfway across the world. Thanks to this book, we are reminded that there is just no substitute for face-to-face contact. Reading about personal interactions between people who don’t share languages or cultural norms but who nonetheless show kindness and respect for each other is both heartwarming and hilarious.

I must admit I’ve dog-eared a few recipes to go back and try once I get some free time in the kitchen. There is just something special about re-creating something you first experienced abroad, especially if it is a time honored tradition in someone else’s kitchen. Many of my favorite discussions have occurred in the kitchen, hanging out with a group of women, working away, everyone doing their part to create something magical and special for their families and friends. The travel stories and recipes go hand-in-hand as they create a wonderful tapestry of travel images for the reader.

Review by Kari O’Driscoll

Cook the Books

By Jessica Conant-Park and Susan Conant
Berkley Publishing Group

Cook the Books is part of a series of mystery books (Gourmet Girl Mysteries) by mother-daughter writing team Jessica Conant-Park and Susan Conant.

Chloe is a graduate student in her mid twenties, who lives by herself and has a passion for food. She has an incredibly gorgeous best friend named Adrianna, who is married to a goofy but honest and lovable free-spirited (broke) man named Owen. They have a delightful little bundle of joy named Patrick, who happens to melt Chloe’s heart so much that she overspends and ends up in debt because she just can’t resist buying him all the expensive toys and clothes she sets her eyes on; he’s that adorable. Then there’s Josh, her ex-boyfriend, a chef, who left a year before for a better job in Hawaii and left her behind.

Did you get all this? If you didn’t it’s okay because once you start reading the novel, this will be retold in pretty much every chapter. Do you want to know what else is constantly repeated? The word “Josh.” It comes up in every other sentence. Of course there’s more to the novel: there’s murder, there’s cooking, and there’s a villain (or many?). More importantly, at the end Josh returns to make everything alright (because he’s perfect). But don’t worry, I haven’t spoiled the end; you can guess that one by the end of the fourth chapter.

The story itself is pretty bland but its biggest sin is mainly that it’s not very relatable. Chloe is supposed to be young, bright and independent, and yet she appears to be everything but. Why am I supposed to care about this character? She has no true interests other than her godson, the lives of other cooks and her ex-boyfriend. It probably doesn’t help that the novel is written with a significant amount of dialogue, which, for the most part, is heavily contrived. For example, Chloe’s employer, a serious man in his mid-thirties has just met new mommy Adrianna and all three of them are sitting down for dinner, his treat:

“And Adrianna,“ he said to my friend, “you especially should eat a lot, since you probably have no time to eat while taking care of a tiny baby, huh?”

This was not meant to be funny, or sarcastic (or creepy) but rather to portray what a great guy Chloe’s employer is! The entire novel is written in this type of dialogue, which aside from being annoyingly predictable, becomes overly repetitive.

Cook the Books is filled with bad cliches and references. The murder that sets motion to the core of the storyline leads to Chloe’s view to the “dark” side of cooking, the cutthroat competitive world of chefs. It’s in fact the same world described by so many other chefs, except that in this case, it’s overly dramatic.

The book cover includes a review blurb promising "snappy dialogue, puzzling murder and mouthwatering menus," which I guess is what fueled my disappointment, as I did believe it. In contrast to other mystery novels that portray unlikely heroines, Cook the Books didn’t hit the mark, It has no sparkle and the heroine lacks a sense of self and definition. It was difficult to really care. It could have been light, fun reading, if only it had been half as long. If I was to recommend the book, it I would assume pre-teens might not mind it, but I don’t know how memorable it would be.

There are some recipes added at the end of the book, which only adds to my confusion as to who the target group for this book is supposed to be. The recipes are courtesy of other authors and chefs. Some are easy enough to follow and make (the Baked Tomato Nests), and some (like the Grilled Ohio Lamb Steak) are meant for the serious cooks who strives to entertain. The Baked Tomato Nests are a cute and fast idea, and in fact, the recipe jumped out at me from one of the actual chapters of the novel, so there was a nice connection there. However, overall the recipes were not very innovative, and in a way, that echoes my overall impression of the book.

To put it simply: it didn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth, it needed spice (cayenne, Habanero, or even just plain old pepper)—it was just too bland.

Review by Jessica Sánchez

Amor y Tacos: Modern Mexican Tacos, Margaritas, and Antojitos

By Deborah Schneider
Stewart, Tabori & Chang

I have an exciting announcement to make: I’ve never enjoyed a cookbook as thoroughly as I have Deborah Schneider’s Amor y Tacos. I grew up eating Mexican food nearly every day, and as an adult, I still make homemade Mexican food the way my father taught me at least two times a week—not the gloppy, heavy Americanized stuff full of cheddar cheese and sour cream, but simple, hearty, good-for-you-food that’s easy to make and even easier on your budget. This is exactly why I’ve fallen madly in love with Schneider’s cookbook; though a majority of the dishes require a bit of prep work, the meals come together quickly in the end and she effortlessly showcases affordable, accessible, and delicious modern Mexican food.

Another reason to love Amor y Tacos: Schneider focuses heavily on Mexican street food, which is the best food Mexico has to offer and just so happens to be a personal obsession of mine. I went crazy testing recipes from this book; I wanted to make everything in it, but I’m going to try to show some restraint and just talk about a few of the dishes, all of which were from the Antojitos (think appetizers), Tacos, and Salsa chapters.

Generally, I try to stay away from fast food, but I’ve somehow convinced myself that eating outrageously unhealthy food is okay—as long as I’ve made it in my own kitchen and kept a close eye on the amount of salt, fat, and other worrisome cooking essentials that quickly make "good" food “bad.” Admittedly, not all of the street food featured in the book is good for you or what some would refer to as “authentic Mexican.” This is because, like all culinary cultures, there’s a lot of borrowing, and if it’s a dish genuinely served on the streets of Mexico, it’s good (and authentic) enough for me.

All of this is just to say that the first recipe I tackled was for something seemingly American and ridiculously bad for you: Schneider’s Mexican Hot Dog with Chipotle Ketchup, otherwise known as the Perro Caliente. In short: a bacon wrapped hot dog encased in a bun that’s been slathered with garlic mayo and griddled. All of this fatty goodness gets topped with pickled jalapenos, pico de gallo salsa (diced Roma tomatoes, onions, cilantro, and lime juice), and a tart, spicy ketchup spiked with chipotle peppers in adobo sauce. I feel the need to point out that I will never again be able to eat a hot dog unless it’s topped with pico de gallo; it’s a marriage made in heaven. It’s that little bit of crunchy, juicy freshness that cuts through the fat and makes a hot dog more than just a hot dog.

Another standout was the Shrimp Taco Dorado, and like all of the tacos in Schneider’s book, what really makes them pop are the interesting salsas she chooses to accompany them. Pico de gallo is pretty customary for tacos, but Schneider’s shrimp tacos also get topped with guacamole that’s spiked with mangoes, tequila, and goat cheese, as well as mango habanero salsa, chipotle salsa, and a few cilantro sprigs. To me, it’s these simple, easy, yet slightly labor intensive accompaniments that really elevate the tacos to something special.

I wouldn’t be doing the book justice if I didn’t mention the Carne Asada Taco Vampiro. It’s never really explained why this super taco gets called a vampire, but who cares when you’re sinking your teeth into what is essentially a quesadilla wrapped around juicy grilled carne asada and topped with guacamole, chipotle salsa, pico de gallo, cotixa cheese, and a sprinkling of the ever ubiquitous cilantro? Seriously, life doesn’t get any better than that.

Review by Tina Vasquez

Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes

By Elizabeth Bard
Little, Brown and Company

While the memoir fad is nothing new, Elizabeth Bard’s new book confirms the emergence of a memoir subgenre to contend with: the memoir with recipes. In May 2009, the New York Times proclaimed these books as the brainchild of the “money-making imagination of the publishing industry.” Certainly, a spate of globe-spanning titles have followed, many born from blogs. However, the story of the American in Paris has long been a favored literary subject. It has sparked writers’ imaginations from Henry James to Anais Nin to Elaine Dundy to David Sedaris. Elizabeth Bard’s adventures in Paris have a more chick-lit feel to them than even Nin or Dundy, and have a liberal sprinkling of Julia Child and Peter Mayle throughout. In this recipe-infused book, Bard navigates a long-distance relationship with a French archivist, decides to move to Paris, and eventually gets married and builds her writing career.

At first, Elizabeth Bard’s life seems impossibly charmed, complete with buying the perfect apartment on the increasingly trendy Rue Oberkampf and negotiating cultural differences that seem more endearing and eye-opening than frustrating. However, what sets Bard’s writing apart from others of her nascent genre is her thoughtfulness and realism. She paints a very true and convincing portrait of herself as a driven, New York striver, bent on academic, artistic, and financial success at an early age and agonizing over why it has not yet arrived. While she is highly educated, she does not come from a place of easy breezy privilege, and in between recipes inspired by fresh finds at her Parisian market, Bard contemplates her family and personal history.

As much as it documents her courtship, relationship, and marriage to Gwendal, a digital archivist and entrepreneur, Lunch in Paris is about Bard’s acclimatization to a Parisian pace of life and ultimately, self-acceptance. Bard finds her stride by finally finding a peaceful balance between her Parisian and New York lives and selves. While this revelation is not particularly groundbreaking and her feminist-tinged reflections stay in safe mainstream territory, Lunch in Paris satisfies readers with a good story, intelligent and heartfelt reflections, and mouth-watering recipes. It’s not clear if these recipes have been kitchen tested the way one would for a professional cookbook, but they serve as solid guidelines for readers interested to add a French twist to their cooking.

While it may not become part of the Americans in Paris literary cannon, Lunch in Paris is a satisfying, straightforward read that feels like a good friend telling you a particularly tasty—and truthful—story.

Review by Eleanor Whitney