Reading: a bit of this, a bit of that
Here's the current reading list. Maybe you'll find something that interests you.
1. Chris Carmichael's Food for Fitness: Eat Right to Train Right. Okay, okay, it's bike-related and not just a pure book thing. Literary merit? Well, figure that out for yourself.
Informational? Not half-bad actually. Lance Armstrong's coach, aided by a couple of nutritionists, gives you the skinny on proper eating. Most of it is common sense - like don't lard on the fat and take in plenty of carbohydrates. The book includes plenty of solid scientific rationale and a few ho-hum recipes.
The only thing I didn't enjoy is Carmichael kept flogging his Carmichael Training Systems program throughout the book - and all things Powerbar since he helped them develop some items as well. Still, he helped Lance eat his way to six Tour wins.
All of which leads me to what I kept telling people last summer at the height of the Atkins Diet frenzy: that they should forget Atkins and try the Tour de France diet. What's that, you wonder? It's like this: You ride 200 kilometres a day with at least two category one climbs and a major sprint at the finish and then you get to eat as much as you want of any damn thing.
2. Anthony Bourdain's Les Halles Cookbook. Another food book, you're saying? What's wrong with this guy? Doesn't he read any real books?
My friends, Bourdain - for those of you who haven't read him - is the Hunter S. Thompson of the kitchen set, a crazed, uncontrollable fiend who worships the organs of small animals. (You think I'm kidding? Read the book). Bourdain made his reputation on Kitchen Confidential, an expose of restaurant culture, but his real masterpiece is A Cook's Tour, in which he wheedled a round-the-world trip from his publisher so that he could eat exotic foods in far-off places. The man is a genius.
Don't take my word for it. Check out Les Halles Cookbook, named for the bistro in New York for which he is the executive chef. For starters, this is the first really serious guy's cookbook I've ever read (well, okay, maybe second along with Jim Harrison's output). Forget all the others about grilling, etc. Bourdain speaks to the inner guy.
Check out this excerpt. It makes me weep with joy:
"This book aims to be a field manual to strategy and tactics, which means that in the following pages, I will take you by the hand and walk you through the process in much the same way - and in the same caring, sensitive, diplomatic tone - as I would a new recruit in my restaurant kitchen.
"Which means that if, from time to time, I refer to you as a 'useless screwhead,' I will expect you to understand and to not take it personally.''
Among other things, Bourdain will teach you how to make Daube Provencale, a tasty looking lamb stew; Boeuf Bourguignon; Poulet Roti (Bourdain helpfully adds: "That's roast chicken, numbnuts! And if you can't properly roast a damn chicken then you are one helpless, hopeless, sorry-ass bivalve in an apron."); and all manner of tripe, kidney and blood sausage dishes (thought I was kidding about the small animal organs, didja?).
A true classic.
3. A Complicated Kindness by Miriam Toews. At last! you say. A real piece of literature. And, I for one, would not disagree.
Toews' award-winning novel (a Giller Prize this year) is acidly funny, sort of Catcher in the Rye from a female perspective crossed with Rudy Weibe, if you can believe it. This Winnipeg-based writer whips off one zinger after another. Obviously, she missed her true calling as a Comedy Network writer. Pa dum! But seriously folks, she is a wonderful writer with an extremely strong sense of voice and setting.
4. The Fabulist by Stephen Glass. A lying bastard writes his memoir in fictional form. Glass, of course, is infamous as The New Republic writer who fabricated numerous stories and was subsequently fired. Here, he rewrites his life, taking us through all the shame of misleading everyone who knew him, but ultimately arriving at redemption. That's the great thing about novels: you get to write yourself a happy ending (Someone should tell Avril Lavigne).
The workmanship of the writing along with the gross remorsefulness of the tone make for dreary reading. Glass spends lots of time fantasizing a new life into being (well, hey! what else to you do after you've been dismissed for making things up) and even creates a sparkling, special girlfriend for himself.
The Fabulist isn't so fab, after all. Maybe Jason Blair (the NY Times plagiarist) has a better book in him.
1. Chris Carmichael's Food for Fitness: Eat Right to Train Right. Okay, okay, it's bike-related and not just a pure book thing. Literary merit? Well, figure that out for yourself.
Informational? Not half-bad actually. Lance Armstrong's coach, aided by a couple of nutritionists, gives you the skinny on proper eating. Most of it is common sense - like don't lard on the fat and take in plenty of carbohydrates. The book includes plenty of solid scientific rationale and a few ho-hum recipes.
The only thing I didn't enjoy is Carmichael kept flogging his Carmichael Training Systems program throughout the book - and all things Powerbar since he helped them develop some items as well. Still, he helped Lance eat his way to six Tour wins.
All of which leads me to what I kept telling people last summer at the height of the Atkins Diet frenzy: that they should forget Atkins and try the Tour de France diet. What's that, you wonder? It's like this: You ride 200 kilometres a day with at least two category one climbs and a major sprint at the finish and then you get to eat as much as you want of any damn thing.
2. Anthony Bourdain's Les Halles Cookbook. Another food book, you're saying? What's wrong with this guy? Doesn't he read any real books?
My friends, Bourdain - for those of you who haven't read him - is the Hunter S. Thompson of the kitchen set, a crazed, uncontrollable fiend who worships the organs of small animals. (You think I'm kidding? Read the book). Bourdain made his reputation on Kitchen Confidential, an expose of restaurant culture, but his real masterpiece is A Cook's Tour, in which he wheedled a round-the-world trip from his publisher so that he could eat exotic foods in far-off places. The man is a genius.
Don't take my word for it. Check out Les Halles Cookbook, named for the bistro in New York for which he is the executive chef. For starters, this is the first really serious guy's cookbook I've ever read (well, okay, maybe second along with Jim Harrison's output). Forget all the others about grilling, etc. Bourdain speaks to the inner guy.
Check out this excerpt. It makes me weep with joy:
"This book aims to be a field manual to strategy and tactics, which means that in the following pages, I will take you by the hand and walk you through the process in much the same way - and in the same caring, sensitive, diplomatic tone - as I would a new recruit in my restaurant kitchen.
"Which means that if, from time to time, I refer to you as a 'useless screwhead,' I will expect you to understand and to not take it personally.''
Among other things, Bourdain will teach you how to make Daube Provencale, a tasty looking lamb stew; Boeuf Bourguignon; Poulet Roti (Bourdain helpfully adds: "That's roast chicken, numbnuts! And if you can't properly roast a damn chicken then you are one helpless, hopeless, sorry-ass bivalve in an apron."); and all manner of tripe, kidney and blood sausage dishes (thought I was kidding about the small animal organs, didja?).
A true classic.
3. A Complicated Kindness by Miriam Toews. At last! you say. A real piece of literature. And, I for one, would not disagree.
Toews' award-winning novel (a Giller Prize this year) is acidly funny, sort of Catcher in the Rye from a female perspective crossed with Rudy Weibe, if you can believe it. This Winnipeg-based writer whips off one zinger after another. Obviously, she missed her true calling as a Comedy Network writer. Pa dum! But seriously folks, she is a wonderful writer with an extremely strong sense of voice and setting.
4. The Fabulist by Stephen Glass. A lying bastard writes his memoir in fictional form. Glass, of course, is infamous as The New Republic writer who fabricated numerous stories and was subsequently fired. Here, he rewrites his life, taking us through all the shame of misleading everyone who knew him, but ultimately arriving at redemption. That's the great thing about novels: you get to write yourself a happy ending (Someone should tell Avril Lavigne).
The workmanship of the writing along with the gross remorsefulness of the tone make for dreary reading. Glass spends lots of time fantasizing a new life into being (well, hey! what else to you do after you've been dismissed for making things up) and even creates a sparkling, special girlfriend for himself.
The Fabulist isn't so fab, after all. Maybe Jason Blair (the NY Times plagiarist) has a better book in him.
posted by Charles Mandel at 12:55 PM
1 Comments:
Thought I'd stop by an take a look at your blog, Charles, since you invited me to when you paid a visit to mine. I'm increasingly inclined to think that the value of my blogging has little or nothing to do with what I provide. It has to do with how much I'm learning. As soon as I figure out how to post links on my blog (which is done under Inquirer auspices) I'll link to yours. By the way, here's a link to my piece about Elko: http://www.philly.com/mld/philly/entertainment/columnists/frank_wilson/10816552.htm
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