Ree Drummond

If you've followed her blog as I have, you'll be pleased to find that author Ree Drummond sticks to her characteristic mix of wry humor and butter by the pound. I'm glad. It's been working for her. In The Pioneer Woman Cooks, her cookbook slash photographic memoir, Ree brings to life the story of her city upbringing with her farm woman reality, currently wrangling four kids and a husband on a working cattle ranch in Oklahoma. Mesmerizing photographs of family members, get-togethers and muddy show more farm work blend well with humorous anecdotes — and serve to show you why her family is so hungry!

Cute, ranch-laden, photo-intense asides with amusing anecdotes leave you longing for a house on the prairie in a way that 'Little House on the Prairie' episodes never did. Miss Mustang International, my favorite of these sections, showcases the farm's haughtiest mares, snobby and cool as horses can be, deadlocked in imaginary pageantry.

What apparently didn't work was the step-by-step visual instructions Ree compiles for each recipe. Drummond's gorgeous pix can be viewed on her website, and it's this stunning photography that leaves viewers drooling for more. Normally. In this publication, however, her photos fall flat. Whether an error in photo correction or on press, it's a sad reality that the green tint of the tutorial pictures makes the food less than appetizing. (Let's flag this for correction on the second printing, Harper Collins. You're far too professional for this type of error. Unless it's just my copy. Hmm.)

Now I bought the book despite its meat-centered mains partly to support a fellow blogger, but mostly because Drummond's recipes can be counted upon to work. This is turning out to be a rare feat in cookbookery. For obvious reasons, I won't comment on the chicken-fried steak or meatloaf recipes, sticking instead to ones I've already tried.

PW's Creamy Mashed Potatoes: killer Thanksgiving staple.
Maple Pecan Scones: get this, already made them three times.
Cinnamon Rolls: yum.
Migas: delectable, eggy nachos. I know, right?
Egg in the Hole: something I've made before, but the extra butter does make it better. Like two days in row better.

And I've only had the book for two weeks. In short, Drummond's pithy writing style and remarkable large-scale photography make this book almost as much a coffee table item as a kitchen resource. If you like having cookbooks you can rely on with unfussy authors you'd ask over for lunch, pick up The Pioneer Woman Cooks. You won't be disappointed, especially if you like butter as much as I do. show less

Okay, I'm a little embarrassed to be caught reading this book, but I was also pleasantly surprised at how well-written, entertaining and funny Ree's book is. She tells you in her introduction that it started out as kind of a lark, writing in her blog about how she met her husband following a 4-year dead-end (for HER) relationship, and the whirlwind, steamy, every day courtship that ensued with her "Marlboro Man" cowboy suitor who would soon become her husband. She's also pretty honest about show more how she patterned her writing after Harlequin-style romance novels. And that is indeed how her story reads. (Yes, I have peeked into a few Harlequins - BLUSH!)

I "know" Ree Drummond through her daily cooking shows on the Food Network, which my wife checks in on almost every day. I'm not a fan of the show, by the way. A bit too nasal, syrupy and cutesy for my taste - and who really cares about cooking anyway? (Not I.) But I bought Ree's memoir, PIONEER WOMAN: BLACK HEELS TO TRACTOR WHEELS, for my wife a few years ago, and just got around to trying it myself. And I made it through over 200 pages of it, before it finally got just a little too redundant - all that endless "Marlboro Man" stuff and how hot and sexy he was, etc. It was kinda surprising to find that she grew up very privileged and wealthy - the middle child of an Oklahoma physician, in a big suburban house on a golf course. And went to college and lived in California for a time, and had planned to go to law school in Chicago, until she met this guy, who quite literally swept her off her feet. And they are still married, twenty-some years and four children later. So I knew how their story ended - like a Harlequin romance, "happily ever after," I'm sure - so far so good, so to speak. Two-hundred plus pages was enough for me. I've got other books waiting.

But Ree Drummond is actually a pretty bright woman, who writes engagingly and well, and I'm not surprised her memoir was a bestseller - women would REALLY love her story, I'm sure. Well, obviously they DO, because there are several thousand reader reviews on the book's Amazon page and elsewhere online, and most of them are very positive. And I liked her writing, up to a point. Highly recommended - especially to women, even those who do not number in her legions of fans for her cooking show. Good job, Ree.

- Tim Bazzett, author of the memoir, BOOKLOVER show less

As a measure of full disclosure, I am an avowed Pioneer Woman fan. She may not be the most erudite, but she has a way with words that makes me laugh out loud. It has been an absolute pleasure watching her familial exploits, her growing skills with photography, and all that luscious, luscious food. Reading her posts are a true highlight of my day.

Reading Black Heels is similar to reading an extra-long post. In fact, the first half of the book was already published on her blog. The rest of the show more story follows in a similar vein, complete with gaffes, humor, and love. Her writing is simplistic, and yet she manages to adeptly voice all her worries, sadness, joy, and simple humor. Add to that her unabashed honesty and willingness to mock herself, and the combination is a fun, easy read that reaffirms the idea of true love.

While there is plenty of gushing - some would say too much - Ree has a natural storytelling ability that enhances some truly hilarious stories. Her honeymoon adventures alone are worth the read. At the same time, her struggle to abandon almost everything she knew to face an unknown life with a relative stranger is very real. How many others would be willing to take that chance? More importantly, how many others would be willing to stick it out through four children, dogs, cats, droughts, fires, and all other manner of trials and tribulations? If anything, Ree's story is a testament to the ultimate commitment required in marriage.

Black Heels is an easy and enjoyable way to spend an afternoon or two and a must-read for fans. The reader receives a greater appreciation for life as a rancher and the challenges Ree faced when making her decision to choose familiarity versus love. Her singular humor eases the sting from some of her more humiliating stories, all while continuing to endear her to readers and fans alike. show less

Marlboro Man is gorgeous. Marlboro Man looks great in his jeans. I act like a fool around MM, but MM makes my insides turn into jelly — which is just as important to note as my parents’ impending divorce and the death of my dog and the effects of an Oklahoma prairie fire.

Look, Ree — I love you. I love your adorable cooking show. I waited in line for four and a half hours to meet you in 2010, which almost led to the demise of my nascent relationship with my boyfriend. But this book? It show more was pretty dreadful. Boring and repetitive and eye-roll-inducing and all the things I never thought I would ever say about my beloved PW. It read like an overly dramatic romance novel, and honestly? I wondered how such a sassy, spunky woman could come across as such a whiny lemming in her take on the early years of her romance with Ladd, her hunky husband, and their quick-as-lightning courtship. (And marriage. And first child.)

The endless references to Marlboro Man’s physique and their obvious attraction to one another made me sip my Diet Coke with disdain, and I only finished the book out of a sense of loyalty to all PW has meant to me over the years. If it had been penned by anyone else, it would have been out. the. door.

Ree’s trademark self-deprecating humor is buried beneath a thick layer of insecurity and inexperience in Black Heels — and not in a charming way. It also came across as . . . very anti-feminist? I don’t know. I didn’t like it. I’m going to end here but still know that I love you, PW, though I will stick to pouring over blog posts from now on. show less