Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table

This is a memoir built around food--and as Reichl put it, she decided that instead of pictures she'd give recipes throughout to paint a picture of her relationships. The Author's Note tells us, "Everything here is true, but it may not be entirely factual. In some cases I have compressed events; in others I have made two people into one. I have occasionally embroidered." That sort of thing usually bugs the hell out of me. It didn't here. Maybe because Reichl was open about it from the beginning--maybe just because she's such an engaging writer and personality. She said she didn't want to get in the way of a good story, and she's a good enough storyteller and more that I forgive her. The book wasn't found in the biography section of my show more neighborhood bookstore, but rather in the cookbook section, in "food writing." So, you might expect you have to be a real foodie to love this--yet I'm not really and yet did love it.

Part of that is that this is a lot more than an ode to food. A lot more. It's about growing up in New York City's Washington Heights in the early 60s, and a boarding school in Montreal, and coming to adulthood in Michigan in late sixties and early seventies Berkeley California. It's about travels to Tunisia and Greece, Italy and France. It's about dealing with a crazy mother, the deterioration of a cherished friendship and love. It's tender, yes--in more than one sense. And often quite funny. I found myself very much amused at the picture of the very hippie era.

Oh, and there is the food. And she has a gift in describing it and connecting it to her life. Here's her description of her first taste of Brie: "I felt Monsieur du Croix watching as I ate the strong, slippery cheese. It was so powerful I felt the tips of my ears go pink." She gives us not just the taste, but the colors, the sensations.

This was just so fun to read on several different levels. Highly recommended. show less

Reichl writes about food and cooking with such gusto that she makes it sound almost sexy. Well, I guess she finally got me to believe that some people really can taste more than others, and they are not just show-offs. Even though I can’t try out almost any of the recipes in her book, they look fabulous. Following her cues, I’ve started marinating meat for much longer- I even managed to overdo it a bit; it came out too salty, but was indeed aromatic.
It was a very pleasant read, and there was much more to it than just reading about food. It was interesting to see how Reichl had an enormous interest in food since childhood, and how lucky she was to stumble on great mentors: her nanny from Bermuda who happened to be a gourmet cook, her show more French school friend’s father who was a great connoisseur, and a collection of colourful food experts in really good restaurants she worked for. On the other hand, an ordinary child/adolescent/person wouldn’t probably have picked up on those chances, wouldn’t have even noticed them. She was also very focused and persistent, and despite her mother creating constant havoc in her life and her upbringing which was pointing elsewhere, she managed to persevere in what interested her. show less

In this wonderful memoir, Ruth Reichl prepares us for her entry into the world of being a food critic. About the unlucky meals she ate at her mother's table, about the lucky meals she discovered at the table of school friend in Ottawa, and even luckier meals she scored as a student at the University of Michigan. It seems as though all of these meals brought into focus for her and for us what happens to people when they cook for each other. Her tastes for all things gourmand grows as quickly as her taste for people. Each step of the way her appreciation for how hard it is to simply live and find happiness grows more subtle and more refined. No less than a fine Volnay.

Just wonderful. I was expecting something descriptive, food-focused, and a bit tame, but this is more of a food- and cooking-infused autobiography of the author's childhood, adolescence (wilder than I'd've guessed), and young adulthood (more transitory and hippy-ish than I'd imagined). How does one pack in so much life experience (and travel!) before one is twenty-six? Overall quite an engrossing book - I'll have to read more of hers.

"...and that year I discovered the secret of every experienced cook: desserts are a cheap trick. People love them even when they're bad." (p. 75)

Part autobiography, part cookbook, completely absorbing. Reichl writes about her relationship with food and cooking, and the people who influenced her, from childhood through her early 30s. She weaves in the politics, culture, and race relations of the times, and she doesn't shy away from telling stories that don't put herself in a very good light. Take care if reading this book while hungry.

Former New York Times food critic and Gourmet magazine editor Ruth Reichl wasn't born a gourmand. Her mother was the sort of person who shopped obsessively for the cheapest food and served it even when it was spoiled. Young Ruth learns to cook mostly as a survival skill, and keeps at it only because she sees the joy it brings to people. I loved this book because it was the first foodie memoir I've read by someone whose culinary awakening happened relatively late in life, and because it is as much about finding your passion as it is cooking good food. Ruth's journey with her lovable but out of control mother is poignant, and admired her tenacity in living life the way she wanted to -- even when that meant squatting in a crowded Berkeley show more apartment and cooking what her hippie roommates found in the trash. This is a food memoir, but it is also very much the story of growing up in the nineteen sixties and seventies, and seeing how the civil rights movement, the Vietnam War, and racism intersected with Ruth's otherwise ordinary life made these events far more vivid than any history book. Her travel experiences in Canada, France, and North Africa are fascinating as well. show less

Light, yet rich and tasty. Restaurant critic Ruth Reichl's memoir is all of these. Easy to read, yet filled with insight and well-rounded characters. The author's mother suffered from manic depression, and one way it manifested itself was in bizarre - and often downright poisonous - culinary creations. The author describes herself as having been shaped by her mother's handicap, beginning at an early age to use food as a way of making sense of the world. She effectively conveys this food-sense in a series of funny and poignant tales that take us from her childhood in New York up through young adulthood in California. She lovingly introduces the significant people in her life, revealing them to us in how and what they cooked. Her stories show more are punctuated by recipes. I did make the 'Artpark Brownies' on page 244 of the edition I had from the library and they were a simple, gooey, choclatey-delicious treat! I will try other recipes too.

The author is equally effective when she moves away from the table to tell more directly of her relationships with friends and family. She describes some episodes that could be seen as time-bound clichés - living in a commune, working in a collectively managed restaurant - with a perspective sometimes lacking in baby-boom memoirs. She brings similar good-humoured perspective to her mother's mental illness and her own struggle with anxiety attacks, never wallowing in graphic description of symptoms. You don't have to be a foodie, or familiar with Reichl to enjoy Tender at the Bone, just a lover of warm, tender memoirs and an appreciation for her style of poignant humour. show less