Websites are wonderful, and tremendously versatile, but books have an atmosphere that monitors simply lack. Here you will find reviews of books I have liked and think you will too. They are in no particular order, and though I like them all I don't pretend to rank them, as they cover different fields. If you have a book you would like me to review for inclusion here, please contact me.
Fred Plotkin first visited Friuli Venezia Giulia in 1976, when he went to help the people of the region recover from one of the most devastating earthquakes to strike Italy in recent memory. Something about the place and the people struck a chord, and though he did leave the region in favor of New York it keeps calling him back. His book is an impressive volume by any measure; he begins by tracing the area's history, with all sorts of interesting asides and observations, and once we know where the Friulani are coming from proceeds to give an overview of their cuisine, followed by notes on ingredients, all again seasoned with fascinating asides. And then wonderful recipes; the book will lead you into your kitchen and set you to work.
A few years ago Nicolas Belfrage published Barolo to Valpolicella, which is probably the best overview of the North Italian wine scene in print. With Brunello to Zibibbo he turns his attention to Central and Southern Italy, and does just as good a job. As with Barolo to Valpolicella, he divides the country by geographical area, and within each geographical area discusses the indigenous grapes grown and the wines they become, followed by a rundown of the major producers, praising the positive and calling spades spades with equal forthrightness. Highly recommended.
About 10 years ago the Grand Lodge of Florida, Order Sons of Italy in America, and the Sons of Italy Florida Foundation decided to Do Good. If one is to Do Good one has to have money coming in, so they put out a cookbook. Not quite the standard Italian cookbook: Rather, they gathered old recipes and family favorites, "a few on note paper, just jotted down, and some in yellowed envelopes written by a family member long departed." The recipes span the peninsula: Simple hearty fare, rather than the elegant things one can get in a restaurant, and this is very positive, because a great many home cooks refuse to write anything down or share their secrets, and this is how recipes get lost. Here, instead, we have a collection.
Pellegrino Artusi often tells his readers to cook stews and other dishes "con fuoco sotto e sopra," and when I translated his book I added footnotes to explain that what he meant by "with fire below and above" was to set the pot over the fire and put some coals on the lid as well. This is just one of the many lost techniques that William Rubel discusses in The Magic Of Fire, an unusual and fascinating volume dedicated to the hearth cooking that was central to European and American cuisine until the rush of modernity that came with the end of the War, and is still practiced in many other parts of the world. A fascinating book that will have you looking at your fireplace with a different eye.
This is a survey book, and as a result follows a fairly predictable path, breaking Italian wines down region by region. What they do after the major subdivisions, however, is a bit less obvious and considerably broader in scope: Each section begins with a map showing the region's appellations, followed by an overview of the region that includes interesting, unexpected, barely-enological bits of local culture or history, for example Emilia's Aceto Balsamico, Lazio's relationship with Rome (and Rome's two soccer teams), or Sicilian ice creams, followed in turn by discussions of the wines. It's a novel approach, but makes sense, and they're both direct and objective in their evaluations of the wines.
Anissa Helou grew up in Beirut wishing she could enjoy the offerings of the vendors and being told by her elder relatives that girls from good families didn't eat street food, which is probably why she has had a fascination with the subject ever since. Her interest is our fortune, because she has amassed a fascinating collection of recipes from throughout the Mediterranean Basin.
David Downie's mother is Roman, and after learning at home (in the US), he has spent quite a bit of time prowling Rome's markets and eateries; the result is Cooking the Roman Way, Authentic Recipes from the Home Cooks and Trattorias of Rome, and it is quite well done. Some cookbooks simply present the recipes, which is fine if one already knows the cuisine, but Mr. Downie also gives the background that places them in context and makes them come alive, and includes sidebars on all sorts of things, from capers to the women who prepare the artichokes in the Campo dei Fiori marketplace, to the true (and interesting) story behind fettuccine Alfredo.
Osterie d'Italia is a guide to Italian restaurants (in Italy) that definitely stands out from the crowd. The only drawback is that it's in Italian, but this won't stop you from flipping though to the cities or towns you plan to visit, which are listed alphabetically by region, and seeing which restaurants (or tripe stands, or whatever else happens to be a local tradition) they suggest.
Cornbread is not Italian, and indeed the cover of this little volume has a photo of a slice of cornbread with a square of partially melted butter (butter on bread isn't particularly Italian either), and a little American flag. However, when my review copy arrived wife Elisabetta's eyes lit up, and she immediately began trying the recipes: If an Italian likes it...
A beautiful reprint of one of the first Italian cookbooks published in English, in 1912: The NY Times said, then: "Though frugal, the Italians are excellent cooks and the American housekeeper will find many interesting suggestions for preparing all sorts of soups, meats, vegetables and sweets. The book shows that Italian cookery is far from being all 'garlic and macaroni.'" The Times's reviewer was onto something, and Robert Brower's comments in the new edition make it even more interesting.
The kitchen has become a tremendously politically correct place of late -- Avoid red meats, cut back on salt, eat your greens, and don't even think about finishing your wine! And this is just the beginning; the Dietary Police will soon have us subsisting primarily on seaweed and fish, with whole grains thrown in for roughage. Can't face this? Then follow Benjamin Lewis and Rodrigo Velloso, who dive into the sensuous and sensual and emerge licking their chops. Lots of good and tasty recipes, none prepared with an eye on a diet chart, and all guaranteed to bring a smile to the face of anyone who enjoys good food the way it was. Before the Police.