I am about the furthest thing from a "foodie" that there can be and I knew almost nothing about Alice Waters and Chez Panisse, but I really, really enjoyed this book! I went to Chez Panisse once (must have been the Cafe because it was upstairs and it was lunch), but I was definitely uninformed at the time.

McNamee gathered excellent research and wove the story together wonderfully, from the fateful study abroad trip to Paris of a young, college-aged woman through the 30-year anniversary of Chez Panisse and an age 60+ Alice Waters.

I particularly appreciated a story of Alice Waters and Julia Child at the California Culinary Academy in 1981 - such different ideas and approaches to food (McNamee's subtitle - "The romantic, impractical, often eccentric, ultimately brilliant making of a food revolution" highlights this difference), although Waters later credited Julia Child as one of the four women "who had informed her idea of what a great female cook might be." What struck me most in this book is how little, actual cooking Waters seemed to do. She seemed to be about the idea of cooking, supervising chefs, and then got swept up in the whole "food movement" world: organic, slow.

I read this book after reading Julie and Julia by Julie Powell, a book about a 29/30-year-old who, in one year, cooked her way through Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and I think it enhanced my enjoyment of this book. Not to take credit away from McNamee, whose writing style is very enjoyable.

An interesting read for anyone who eats. (This from a Kraft macaroni & cheese girl is high praise indeed, I would think!) ;^) ( )

I've got to hand it to McNamee: Not only did he make a lovely sense out of the lovely disorder going on at Chez Panisse, he carefully crafts the depiction of Alice Waters, so as to capture all facets of this prism personality. In the late 1960's, Waters, an admitted Francophile and dreamer, opens up the Chez Panisse in Berkeley, California, where she could serve the kind of food that she ate while in France, the idea of food that she had been chasing ever since returning to the U.S.

The early history on Waters is brief, and very fittingly so, because this is not a woman whose childhood seems like an improbable notion. Even into her old age, Waters bears a whimsical presence on the restaurant she founded, on her family, friends, colleagues, students, and business partners, on her fans and devoted followers, and this whimsy is fueled by a residing childlike notion of purity, cleanness, simplicity.

It's also fitting, then, that the bulk of the background behaviors at Chez Panisse could be described in opposing terms. In lesser work, the personalities and presences of so many people coming and going would read as an impassable blur, a messy, ill-defined group of misfits, romantics, artists, cooks, outlaws, etc. But McNamee's patience is well utilized. He handles each kitchen personality with careful character crafting, following their story to the very end of their time at the restaurant, and many of them long after. He sketches such clear pictures of the supporting players, that they stick with you throughout the entire history, much like their actual presence in Alice Waters's life.

The ultimate achievement of this book is that it accessibly relates the story of Alice Waters and Chez Panisse without sacrificing the spirit of mercurial disarray and sentimental disaster. The reader can understand how botched the accounts were for 30 years, how close the restaurant came to financial ruin (the many, many times), and yet, nothing dampers the sentimental glow of the dining room, the idea of fresh, simple foods served lovingly, the endless search for better, finer, fresher, local ingredients. The perfect radish, the perfect lemon, the perfect bunch of herbs, the perfect lamb. To track down the freshest ingredients, as told from the perspective of even the most freelance of scavengers for the restaurant, is a devotional task to a higher calling of a glorious slow food revolution.

To sink your teeth into something ripe from the vine, or to liven a dish with herbs freshly sprung from pots in the window. Wild vegetables and fruits. In a way, McNamee makes sense of Waters and Chez Panisse the same way they make sense of their work: In his mission to provide the best history of the woman and her groundbreaking restaurant, the author keeps it simple, fresh, and goes straight to the source for the perfect information. It's slow, tedious work, but at the end you have a literary meal hearty, delicious, and soul-satisfying. ( )

This is a very inconsistent book about a really interesting character. The first half of the biography, about how Waters got interested in food and the influences that led her to be a leader of the California/New American cuisine movement, was fascinating. The combination of hippie hedonism and classic French precision was a delight to read. Waters is quite a character. Then the book got bogged down into a recitation of the various chefs at the restaurant and the managers who helped deal with its financial problems. The book ends on an up-note, describing in great detail several dinners and how the Chez Panisse philosophy gets translated into food on the table. ( )

This book was better than I expected. The last food-related -biographical novel I read was Damrosch’s Service Included, and though it was well-written, it was rather tiresome when the author exposed her love-life. McNamee’s work is an account of many aspects of Alice Waters, her passion, and her work. It’s deeply personal, and unfalteringly interesting. The author weaves the story through many different perspectives of people in Alice Waters’ life and Alice Waters, herself, and presents many of their first-hand accounts and opinions. It’s fantastically written.

As for Alice Waters as a person, I am her newest fan.

There are many passages in this 351 page biography that are quote-worthy, but this one made me most excited about Chez Panisse and cemented my desire to experience it myself:

If a diner asks a question about the food that his waiter can’t fully answer, the diner is likely to be invited into the kitchen, to talk to the cook responsible for the dish. The portions are adequate, but if someone especially likes something, and as long as there’s enough, it’s not a secret that the kitchen will gladly serve seconds. (p. 343)

I’d recommend this book to anyone who has the faintest desire to learn more about American cuisine, likes eating, or likes biographies. It might awaken a passion about food in you that you never knew you had. (5/5) ( )

If you wonder where "slow food" came from, this is the originator. Very indepth and doesn't glamorize Alice Waters, but shows her with all her faults as well as her qualities. ( )