Blue Plate Special: An Autobiography of My Appetites

Truth. The tongue can hold memories longer than the heart; sometimes even longer than the mind. Childhood delicacies like soft boiled eggs and Tapioca pudding could bring author Kate Christensen back to six years old, much the same way a steaming hot bowl of Cream of Wheat with melting swirls of butter and sparkling brown sugar still can for me in my middle age. The thread of food is woven in and out of Christensen's story, sometimes as a integral character and other times as supporting cast, pivotal moments are remembered as meals.
I have a lot in common with Kate. I can remember feeling exactly like her when, at seven years old, the best present in the world was to have a space, separate from the house, in which to hide from the world; show more a place to call my own. Another similarity was when she shared that she salivated at the thought of the breakfasts in Little House on the Prairie. I, too, had food envy.
There were a lot of unexpected aha moments while reading Blue Plate. It is strange how the trauma of events in childhood can inform decisions in adulthood without us knowing how or why. show less

This memoir made for both good reading and incredibly hard reading at the same time. The reason for this, I suspect, is that I might be too similar to the author and relate a little too much to her failing, her self-loathing, her struggle to find confidence in herself. This is an extremely honest memoir, and it makes for hard reading in the same way that looking in the mirror and acknowledging one's own faults is a hard thing to do. On the brighter side, like the author, I also love food and the descriptions of food here are amazing. Also, there are recipes! I actually tried the "Dark Night of the Soul" soup and it was wonderful. A good read, but know what you're getting yourself into before starting this one.

This was a lovely book that turned out to be far more about the author’s life and experiences than about food. The tastes, sensations, preparations and occasions described by author Kate Christensen are a constant thread throughout the book, but the story of her life proved far more complex and interesting than the menu items.

I found it interesting that the book starts and ends with memories of her father. As close a bond and connection she feels with her mother, the enigma that is her father is the one that most seems to define her. When, as a two year old, she raises her hands to her parents and says, “Comfort me,” - “There they were, my parents, comforting me. The memory is one of the nicest ones I have of my father. There he show more was, being a father, just for a moment. I had to ask him to, in the spirit of curiosity about a word, but he complied. I have always kept this memory in the mental equivalent of a velvet box at the back of a top shelf in a closet, where rare things are hidden so no one steals of breaks them.”

Christensen’s descriptions of the people in her life, of relationships and the dynamics of family struck the deepest chords. “We all shared the same old jokes. We were a little rusty with Emily, and she with us, but only at first. The habits of being in a family are deep and ingrained. Over the decades, during all of the rifts and schisms and confrontations and silences and offenses and resentments, something had been at work, a strong undertow of love, in all of us.”

There is a great deal of heartache and anger and depression and uncertainty in Christensen’s life, but through that, and through a great deal of joy as well, she comes to know herself well and appreciate the journey. “Everything that has ever happened to me – every meal I’ve ever eaten, every person I’ve loved or hated, every book I’ve read or written, every song I’ve heard or sung – is all still with me, magnetically adhering to my cells.”

And the thread of food, and her relationship with it, is the undercurrent that moves this story along, the constant rhythm that accompanies her journey. She describes it well, tying in the memories and senses that accompany each recipe. “We ate at a homey old Italian place in Williamsburg called Milo’s whose owners, and ancient Italian couple, tottered around serving two-dollar beers and rustic red wine along with mounded plates of cheap, homemade spaghetti with meatballs; we always dared each other to order the half goat’s head, but we never did. I inhaled all this food; I would have rolled around in it if such a thing had been possible.”

“Blue Plate Special” was a wonderfully emotional and evocative book, and inspires me to experience some of the other books written by this talented author. show less

Wow, second foodie memoir in as many weeks where the author has some seriously horrific abuse in their past. And, yeah, reading two in a row like that impacts my review -- but here my problem is less about the memoir, which was eventful, if somewhat tortured -- it's a literary memoir by the writer of literary fiction after all, so well done on that scope -- as with the extremely tangential food connection.

She does talk about food throughout the book, and in a sometimes forced manner, adds recipes, but no, it's not at all like reading Ruth Reichl or Julia Child or Molly Wizenberg.

If you were looking for a book that turns on food, this is not that book. If you were looking for a action-packed literary memoir where the author thinks show more fondly of food while she's starving herself, then this is an excellent choice. show less

I have very mixed feelings about this. I was so horrified by the father's violence and then the abuse at the Waldorf School that I never quite got pas t that - so the NY years and the marriages all felt a bit like chatter and the food, totally trivial. I also read the essay she'd written for Elle about coming to terms with the abuse and how she didn't even realize the impact of it until after she'd written the memoir. So I mostly felt discombobulated and upset.

I'm not sure how much you really learn about her as a writer but as a survivor, yes.

I'm of mixed minds about this book.

It's very readable, and well-written with that as a criterion. The subtitle- "An Autobiogrpahy of My Appetites" is appropriate; her main appetites are food, lust, and writing. Christensen has lead a very eventful life, and her accounts of it are fascinating.

However- as she got older, but emphatically refused to gain insight into the same aspects of her life that were making her miserable, I grew impatient. Every new love is her Forever Soulmate!!!! until it blows up, of course. She seems like the sort of difficult person who enjoys being difficult; even as it makes her miserable, she will not consider another approach. She's stuck- and thus so are we, the readers.

The food writing- which I read this show more for- is excellent, and I am going to try several of the recipes. show less

Author Kate Christensen's memoir of life growing up in the 70's and 80's, loving food, struggling with romance and sense of self, and coming to terms with her complicated interaction with family including a father lost to her while young. All of this strikes a resonant chord with me. While there are references to food and recipes throughout, this is not a 'foodie' memoir, a la Michael Ruhlman, Anthony Bourdain, Gabrielle Hamilton, et al. Food takes a subsidiary role, not a primary one. The focus here is largely on relationships and personal growth. I would love to read any memoir of her mother -- a fascinating character.