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jessieweaver's review
4.0
Related blog post: http://www.jessieweaver.net/2009/07/alone-in-kitchen.html
mspoda's review
4.0
Some five star stories, handful of one star stories, and the rest floating somewhere in the middle. Overall, highly enjoyable! Though... I doubt some of these people are completely honest about some of their healthier solo eating choices....
sdbecque's review
4.0
I really enjoyed this collection of essays. I learned to cook while living on my own and cooking for one, and I know it can be dispiriting, but now that I more frequently cook for other people, there's a nostalgic longing for just eating oatmeal when you feel like it. Certainly this summer, I have found the same foods keep turning up when I'm out of other ideas - hot dogs, mac and cheese, deviled eggs and baked beans. Soon the weather will turn, and I will fight the urge to eat tomato soup and grilled cheese with every meal.
One of my favorite quotes from the book sums it up like this: "The fact was, I wanted the same thing again and again. And so I yielded, bought the good, took them home, cooke, ate, accompanied usually by music, preferably a public radio station that played music I liked. And I am here to tell you, the pleasure never diminished I was happy every time."
Anyway, I really liked these essays - I was inspired to write a small one of my own, over here if anyone is interested.
thisgrrlreads's review
4.0
Another book of food essays I couldn't put down. I'm not sure if this says something about me or the book but I would say that in this case, it was the book. I'm not sure I feel as sad about cooking for one as some of the essayists but I love the fact this isn't all about how food brings people together and shows love. It's about what people eat when left to their own devices, something I fully understand. The essays were also mostly light and funny, which I appreciated.
ktlove's review
3.0
Various authors/foodies discussing people's personal relationship with food. A fun read that a) offers some great recipes and b) makes you think about all the yummy hidden things you eat when it's just you along in the kitchen with...well...whatever.
d0rkyc0rky's review
3.0
These essays were hit or miss for me. I love the concept, but it was the weirdly not voyeuristic enough for me.
northstar's review
3.0
This is a collection of essays about eating alone and I selected it from the shelf because I liked the title. Some of the writers are well-known food journalists and others are writers who take an interest in food. I didn't love-love-love any single essay but most of them are well-crafted and many are appreciative of the joys of actually cooking a meal for yourself, something I did often at one point in my life but rarely do these days. A few recipes are included.
hcq's review
3.0
This summer a dear lady I’ve known my whole life died, the mother of my best friend. Not long after her memorial service I was talking to said friend, checking in and asking how her dad was doing. He was okay, she said, but she and her sisters were a bit concerned about how he was eating—or not. He claimed that they didn’t need to worry, because after all he had cooking experience from his single days, but that was 63 years ago!
My first thought was of this book. I thought it might be useful, or at least interesting, to him, but of course I had to read it first to be sure. (My husband also not-so-helpfully pointed out that today, with the evolution of the eggplant emoji, the title can now be read as much, much ruder than it was at publication.)
As I expected, the essays in it varied—how could they not? There’s a definite New York bias to them, which I hadn’t expected but which was fine for my purposes, because my friend lives in the suburbs and has worked in the city for decades.
There were the usual NYC “my first kitchen was so small” stories, as well as the “I used to eat in this wonderful tiny neighborhood restaurant that of course has now vanished into mist” ones, both of which I grew up on. There were pieces about particular dishes people had encountered, particular meals, particular dining customers (the story about an exacting woman who became a regular at a restaurant on the West Coast was memorable). Some were funny, some were poignant, some were more interesting than others.
Overall, I was really enjoying it, and thinking, “yes, yes, this will be great, he’ll find stories of people in the same boat but doing well with it,” when sadly, someone struck exactly the wrong note I had feared. In one terrible, throwaway line, which I’ll paraphrase because I was too horrified to write it down, one author said that eating alone was fine, unless one was doing it “because one’s old and bereft, which is of course horrible”—and there went that idea, because that is precisely his situation.
Rats.
My first thought was of this book. I thought it might be useful, or at least interesting, to him, but of course I had to read it first to be sure. (My husband also not-so-helpfully pointed out that today, with the evolution of the eggplant emoji, the title can now be read as much, much ruder than it was at publication.)
As I expected, the essays in it varied—how could they not? There’s a definite New York bias to them, which I hadn’t expected but which was fine for my purposes, because my friend lives in the suburbs and has worked in the city for decades.
There were the usual NYC “my first kitchen was so small” stories, as well as the “I used to eat in this wonderful tiny neighborhood restaurant that of course has now vanished into mist” ones, both of which I grew up on. There were pieces about particular dishes people had encountered, particular meals, particular dining customers (the story about an exacting woman who became a regular at a restaurant on the West Coast was memorable). Some were funny, some were poignant, some were more interesting than others.
Overall, I was really enjoying it, and thinking, “yes, yes, this will be great, he’ll find stories of people in the same boat but doing well with it,” when sadly, someone struck exactly the wrong note I had feared. In one terrible, throwaway line, which I’ll paraphrase because I was too horrified to write it down, one author said that eating alone was fine, unless one was doing it “because one’s old and bereft, which is of course horrible”—and there went that idea, because that is precisely his situation.
Rats.