Available:*
Item Barcode | Collection | Call Number | Status | Item Holds |
---|---|---|---|---|
33607003408344 | Adult Nonfiction | 641.509 REICHL | Searching... Unknown | Searching... Unavailable |
Bound With These Titles
On Order
Summary
Summary
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER * "A delicious insider account of the gritty, glamorous world of food culture."-- Vanity Fair
In this "poignant and hilarious" ( The New York Times Book Review ) memoir, trailblazing food writer and beloved restaurant critic Ruth Reichl chronicles her groundbreaking tenure as editor in chief of Gourmet.
A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: Real Simple, Good Housekeeping, Town & Country
When Condé Nast offered Ruth Reichl the top position at America's oldest epicurean magazine, she declined. She was a writer, not a manager, and had no inclination to be anyone's boss. Yet Reichl had been reading Gourmet since she was eight; it had inspired her career. How could she say no?
This is the story of a former Berkeley hippie entering the corporate world and worrying about losing her soul. It is the story of the moment restaurants became an important part of popular culture, a time when the rise of the farm-to-table movement changed, forever, the way we eat. Readers will meet legendary chefs like David Chang and Eric Ripert, idiosyncratic writers like David Foster Wallace, and a colorful group of editors and art directors who, under Reichl's leadership, transformed stately Gourmet into a cutting-edge publication. This was the golden age of print media--the last spendthrift gasp before the Internet turned the magazine world upside down.
Complete with recipes, Save Me the Plums is a personal journey of a woman coming to terms with being in charge and making a mark, following a passion and holding on to her dreams--even when she ends up in a place she never expected to be.
Author Notes
Ruth Reichl was born in New York City on January 16, 1948. In 1970, she graduated from the University of Michigan with a M.A. in art history. She became a food writer and magazine editor for New West magazine. Later she worked for the Los Angeles Times, first as the restaurant editor and then food editor. She received two James Beard Awards. In 1993, she moved back to New York to become the restaurant critic for The New York Times. She was the editor in chief of Gourmet Magazine for ten years.
She is the author of the memoirs Garlic and Sapphires, Tender at the Bone, and Comfort Me with Apples and the novel Delicious! Her latest book, My Kitchen Year: 136 Recipes That Saved My Life, was published in 2015.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (2)
Publisher's Weekly Review
In this endearing memoir, James Beard Award-winning food writer Reichl (Tender at the Bone) tells the story of her 10-year stint (1999-2009) as editor-in-chief of Gourmet magazine. Reichl made it her mission to return a stuffy Gourmet to the artistic and culinary glory she remembered from her childhood, taking it online and replacing high-brow guides to hosting with boundary-pushing cultural exposAcs and stories on street food. Recipes mark turning points in her story, like the Jeweled Chocolate Cake that won her credibility in the test kitchen ("the dark, dense, near-bitterness of the cake collided with the crackling sweetness of the praline" topping); the Thanksgiving Turkey Chili that she and her staff delivered to firefighters in the aftermath of 9/11; and Spicy Chinese Noodles-the midnight dish she often prepared for her son. Gourmet magazine readers will relish the behind-the-scenes peek at the workings of the magazine: Reichl details her decision to run "the edgiest article" in Gourmet's history, David Foster Wallace's controversial piece on the ethics of boiling lobsters alive, and shares anecdotes about such writers as the late L.A. food critic Jonathan Gold and novelist Ann Patchett. Reichl's revealing memoir is a deeply personal look at a food world on the brink of change. (Apr.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
Library Journal Review
October 5, 2009, was a dark day for food lovers, when Gourmet magazine suddenly ceased publication. No one was more surprised than editor-in-chief Reichl, who had prevailed over its revitalization. This latest memoir focuses on the author's wild ride after leaving her post as restaurant critic for the New York Times to take on the unexpected challenge of leading Gourmet. Initially hesitant and feeling woefully unprepared, Reichl finds herself in the alternative universe of Condé Nast: luxurious, fashionable, and status-conscious in a way that Berkeley-loving, frizzy-haired Reichl never aimed to be. Yet it's her love of what the magazine had been in her youth and could be again-progressive, thoughtful, and forward-thinking-that drives her. During Reichl's tenure Gourmet published some of the most memorable food essays of the early millennium and broke new ground in design and presentation. She offers sharp observations about the magazine world, but none of this is about blame. VERDICT This look back in time will appeal to Reichl's many fans, foodies, as well as general readers. It's part elegy, part picaresque for a recent history that already feels like another era after the Great Recession and the evolution of digital publishing.-Devon Thomas, Chelsea, MI © Copyright 2019. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
1 Magic Door I was eight years old when I first found the magazine, sitting on the dusty wooden floor of a used-book store. My father was a book designer who enjoyed the company of ancient volumes, and he often took me on book-hunting expeditions around New York, leaving me with a pile of vintage magazines while he went off to prowl among the dark and crowded shelves. That day I picked up a tattered old issue of Gourmet, enchanted by the cover drawing of a majestic swordfish leaping joyfully from the water. This looked nothing like the ladies' magazines my mother favored, with their recipes for turkey divan made with cans of mushroom soup, or pot roast topped with ketchup, and I opened it to find the pages filled with tales of food in faraway places. A story called "Night of Lobster" caught my eye, and as I began to read, the walls faded, the shop around me vanishing until I was sprawled on the sands of a small island off the coast of Maine. The tide was coming in, water tickling my feet as it crept across the beach. It was deep night, the sky like velvet, spangled with stars. Much later I understood how lucky I was to have stumbled on that story. The author, Robert P. Tristram Coffin, was the poet laureate of Maine and a Pulitzer Prize winner with such an extraordinary gift for words that I could hear the hiss of a giant kettle and feel the bonfire burning as the flames leapt into the night. The fine spicy fragrance of lobster was so real to me that I reached for one, imagined tossing it from hand to hand until the shell was cool enough to crack. The meat was tender, briny, rich. Somewhere off in the distance a fish splashed, then swam silently away. I closed the magazine, and the real world came into focus. I was a little girl leafing through the pages of a magazine printed long before I was born. But I kept turning the pages, enchanted by the writing, devouring tales of long-lost banquets in Tibet, life in Paris, and golden fruit growing on strange tropical trees. I had always been an avid reader, but this was different: This was not a made-up story; it was about real life. I loved the ads for exotic ingredients you could send away for: oysters by the bushel, freshly picked watercress, alligator pears (avocados), and "frogs' legs from the frogland of America." Once I actually persuaded my parents to order a clambake in a pot from Saltwater Farm in Damariscotta, Maine. Eight live lobsters and a half peck of clams came swathed in seaweed and packed in ice. It cost $14.95, and all you had to do was poke holes in the top of the container and set it on the stove. I couldn't get enough of those old issues, and now when Dad went off exploring bookstores I had a quest of my own. The day I discovered a battered copy of The Gourmet Cookbook among the ancient issues, I begged Dad to buy it for me. "It's only fifty cents," I pleaded. It came in handy the morning I opened the refrigerator in our small kitchen and found myself staring at a suckling pig. I jumped back, startled, and then did what any sensible person would do: reached for the cookbook. I was only ten, and I hoped it would have some advice on how to deal with the thing. Sure enough, there it was, on page 391: "Roast Suckling Pig Parisienne." There was even a handy photograph demonstrating how to truss the tiny animal. I remember that moment, and not just because the recipe insisted on a lot of yucky stuff like putting a block of wood into the pig's mouth ("to brace it for the apple that will be inserted later") and boiling the heart for gravy. I remember it mostly because that was the day Mom finally admitted she was glad I'd found a hobby. My mother's interest in food was strictly academic. Asked what had possessed her to purchase the pig, she replied, "I'd never seen one before," as if that was an adequate answer. The same logic had compelled her to bring home a can of fried grasshoppers, a large sea urchin with dangerously sharp spines, and a flashy magenta cactus flower. She had little interest in eating these items, but if I was going to insist on reading what she called "that ridiculous magazine," she thought it should be put to use. The fried grasshoppers were not a hit; I suspect the can had been sitting on a shelf for years, awaiting some gullible customer. And while the editors were eager to instruct me in the preparation of eels, bears, woodchucks, and snipe, they were strangely silent on the subject of sea urchins. When I finally managed to pry the creature open, I found the gooey black inside so appalling that nothing would have tempted me to taste it. As for the cactus flower, its great good looks camouflaged a total lack of flavor. But the suckling pig was a different story. I did everything the cookbook suggested and then hovered anxiously near the oven, hoping it hadn't led me astray. When the pig emerged all crackling skin and sweet soft meat, Mom was happy. "I've never tasted anything so delicious," she grudgingly admitted. "That magazine might be useful after all." Excerpted from Save Me the Plums: My Gourmet Memoir by Ruth Reichl All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
Table of Contents
Author's Note | p. xiii |
1 Magic Door | p. 3 |
2 Tea Party | p. 11 |
3 Garlic | p. 18 |
4 Washington Square | p. 24 |
5 Attire Allowance | p. 32 |
6 Plan Check | p. 38 |
7 Adjacencies | p. 47 |
8 The Yaffy | p. 58 |
9 Bitter Salad | p. 69 |
10 Human Resources | p. 79 |
11 The Down Side | p. 88 |
12 The Florio Potato | p. 95 |
13 Big Fish | p. 104 |
14 Birth Day | p. 113 |
15 Severine | p. 124 |
16 Why We Cook | p. 133 |
17 Food People | p. 142 |
18 Enormous Changes | p. 149 |
19 Just Say It | p. 155 |
20 Hello, Cupcake | p. 162 |
21 Setting the Record Straight | p. 176 |
22 DFW | p. 181 |
23 Mene, Mene | p. 191 |
24 Pull Up a Chair | p. 199 |
25 Dot Com | p. 207 |
26 Editor of the Year | p. 215 |
27 Being Brand Ruth | p. 223 |
28 Midnight in Paris | p. 235 |
29 This One's on Me | p. 247 |
Epilogue | p. 253 |
Acknowledgments | p. 263 |