Mann TX633 .K36 2006

This is a densely written book about the way that fine dining has changed in America over time and how those changes have made a significant impact on the way Americans view food in general. The book manages to dish the dirt on the big names of the food industry (chefs, cooks, restaurateurs, and writers) in a fairly even-handed manner without seeming exploitative or muck-raking but instead using the information to show why things happened as they did. The writing style is more academic that one might be used to for a tell-all about the world of food; it reads more like a history book (complete with footnotes) than an industry-wide "Kitchen Confidential." Although the book seems about 40 pages too long and could possibly stand some trimming in the middle section, it is worth sticking it out to get to the end. ( )

This book was obviously written by an author who is enthusiastic and knowledgable about the history of gourmet food in America. But his enthusiasm oftentimes bogs the book down with constant name-dropping that is difficult for a novice foodie to keep up with. There is a lot of tedium that could easily have been cut out.

The novel is its best in the beginning, where it has its most focus, giving a rich history on the major players that made French food a hit in America. When the middle of the book reaches California, the novel bounces around erratically after singing the praises of Chez Panisse and Alice Waters. By the time the book reaches the nineties, it's a rush to the finish line. Wolfgang Puck , Emeril Lagasse, and the author's friend Mario Batali get the spotlight while many other famous chefs get mentioned in passing, usually in reference to their work on the Food Network. And on the subject of the Food Network, you'd think there would be more to say about it, since it turned many average Americans into foodies. But the author devotes only a rushed chapter, perhaps because he spent too much time back in the '60s discussing every chef that walked through Chez Panisse.

With criticism aside, the book does offer an in-depth explanation on how we got our food habits. It shines with the anecdotes of the fabulous wine-and-pate-soaked gatherings of the Gourmet Elite. The novel helps us better understand why we care so much about how our food is prepared, and where it comes from. A great question is raised in the novel, albeit in the rushed, final chapters: How are we supposed to feel about the big-box companies like Wal-Mart trying to corner the market on organic and healthy foods? Should we be delighted that good eating is provided at small cost for the lower classes? Or should we fear for the death of the mom-and-pop shops and the local farmer? The novel leaves the answer up to you, but says we should all be for good food and good earth, within reason (using Alice Water's fanaticism as an example of "out of reason.")

It will be interesting to see how the book reads in a few years, now that high gas prices and food shortages will no doubt be affecting the ingredients we put together for our meals in the future. ( )

The United States of Arugula tells the tale of how Americans went from vending machine coffee to Starbucks venti lattes, from ketchup to salsa, from Spam to Kobe beef, from regarding eating as mere fuel consumption to seeing it as an art and a lifestyle statement.

Author David Kemp focuses on the so-called Big Three of American cuisine -- Julia Child, James Beard and New York Times food writer Craig Claiborne -- and the food professionals who followed in their wake, right up to Emeril and Rachel Ray and (va-voom) Giada DiLaurentiis. He notes that Americans, for a very long time, thought of cuisine as too feminine, too faggy, too French to be taken seriously. Thus the frequent calls for an American cuisine. Is there any such thing?

Sure, but it's a hodgepodge -- salsa and sushi and pizza and spring rolls and mesclun and whatnot...the most American thing about our cuisine is the fact that it has remained open to influences and flavors from all over the world. Our politicians make speeches about closing the borders, then go out to campaign events where they eat tacos and calzones. Our cuisine is more of a melting pot than our society-at-large.

I am grateful to Kemp for 1) giving Alice Waters her due, noting that she has helped a nation to learn that it makes sense to eat locally and think globally, and 2) also noting that she is an insufferable, manipulative scold who sets herself up as the high priestess of holy culinary purity.

Kemp is also wise to mention that, in dietary terms, we have two classes in America -- the one that eats processed garbage (because the government helps keep it artificially cheap), and the one that shops at Whole Foods (often while feeling morally superior about it). So when McDonalds begins to sell salads, and when Wal-Mart makes a move into organic groceries, should we cheer or be disheartened? Is the organic-crunchy-sustainable-SlowFood-gourmet movement being sold out, or taking root in mass culture?

There's a lot to think about in this book, which starts out strong, sags in the middle (too many stories about chefs changing jobs) and closes on a high, optimistic note. Kemp thinks this is a very good time to be alive and eating. I think he's right. Now if only I could afford a bit more of this wonderful food he writes about...

Very detailed, well-researched book about the AmericanFood Revolution. The author has written numerou articles for Vanity Fair and GQ so, if you enjoy that style of writing and are interested in the subject, go ahead and read this. ( )