by Erica Bauermeister
ages: adult
First sentence: “Lillian loved best the moment before she turned on the lights.”
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The food book — whether it be a novel or a memoir (or whatever other category that food books falls into — can be a truly wonderful experience. If you get a writer that is evocative enough, descriptive enough, then you can be transported away to another place, another time, and delight in the feast for the senses. It’s the best kind of escapism, and when you combine the essence of food with a mystical magical power, there is the possibility of truly getting carried away.

Which is why, I think, I had high hopes for this one. The cover is gorgeous, the title inviting. The story, simple enough to let the food shine. Lillian, is a master chef who never works with recipes, preferring, instead, to find her own combinations, unique to the day, the person, the mood she wants to evoke. She runs a cooking school, teaching these essential principles: smell, savor, enjoy. Each chapter is a profile of a different student in the session, which is both a plus and a minus. Plus, because we get to know each person individually, their histories, their reactions to the different food. Minus, because it detracts from an overarching story. It was more like a series of connected short stories, and because of that, I felt unfulfilled when the story was over. It was kind of like The Jane Austen Book Club, in that way; except, I think that book handled the balance between the individual stories and an overarching plot better. I did come to like some of of the characters — the new mother Claire, or the Italian Antonia, or the geeky Ian — but it seemed that once their story was done, Bauermeister didn’t quite know what to do with them, and pushed them out of the picture.

But, all that would have been forgiven if the food had been worth it. And sometimes it was. Sometimes, like in the spaghetti chapter, I could almost smell the food, longing to taste it and savor the experience. Other times, like the white cake chapter, I felt like the person’s story overwhelmed the food, and I came away wanting more. More savoring, more magic, more experience. More food. There can never be enough food.

But then, sometimes even the best food can leave one unsatisfied.