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Mouth Wide Open: A Cook and His Appetite
Ever since his first book, Simple Cooking , and its acclaimed successors, Outlaw Cook , Serious Pig, and Pot on the Fire , John Thorne has been hailed as one of the most provocative, passionate, and accessible food writers at work today. In Mouth Wide Open, his fifth collection, he has prepared a feast for the senses and intellect, charting a cook’s journey from ingredient to dish in illuminating essays that delve into the intimate pleasures of pistachios, the Scottish burr of real marmalade, how the Greeks made a Greek salad, the (hidden) allure of salt anchovies, and exploring the uncharted territory of improvised breakfasts and resolutely idiosyncratic midnight snacks. Most of all, his inimitable warmth, humor, and generosity of spirit inspire us to begin our own journey of discovery in the kitchen and in the age-old comfort and delight of preparing food.
Hardcover
First published November 27, 2007
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Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
April 21, 2008
This book made me cranky more often than not. The authorial voice is one I found annoying due in no small part to the use of 'myself' when 'me' would have done. The recipes were interesting, to be sure. However, I found them presented in a supercilious and smarmy fashion. Thorne rabbits on about how he never follows a recipe in a book, then condescends to share his tweaked and polished recipes with you. Surely you, dear reader, will not need to take any liberties! He hastens to assure you that if you do, he won't mind a bit, and he probably wouldn't. But still, he rubbed me the wrong way. I remember liking his earlier _Serious Pig_ but after this book, I won't go back to check. Just in case.
February 1, 2008
I like John Thorne - he's unapologetic about the fact that he doesn't follow recipes, likes tasty midnight snacks scavenged from bits and pieces lying about, and samples weird canned foods from Big Lots. In many ways, he's the opposite of the pretentious food writers out there who insist on the One True Recipe and assume we all have a bottomless bank account to draw on for our daily meals. However, his entertaining snacking tidbits are often better than his longer essays on the history of various dishes, and those essays are often better than the book reviews he includes towards the end of the book. By the end of the book, I was wondering if his editor had pushed him to pad the final manuscript a bit. Thorne certainly has his mouth wide open, but his writing seems better suited to small bites.
March 29, 2008
One of my favorite food writers. This book is a lovely combination of recipes and narrative.....so accessible and lovely.
May 25, 2020
I have all of his other food books but don't need to get this one. It felt repetitive, cranky and I don't understand why he blames his weight on quitting smoking when he has a whole chapter about rich and somewhat absurd midnight snacks! ;-) including a sandwich made from sausage casings.
June 25, 2011
p.xxiii-xxv
I grew up as an army brat, and thus was completely sheltered from the economic forces--and resulting stresses--that shape most American lives. No one we knew risked losing their job because of a downturn in the economy or the whim of a new boss, or possessed conspicuous wealth or even an enviably higher standard of living....
...I also have always had a hard time grasping why people want to make lots of money and, once they have it (or even before), why they buy many of the things they do.
This isn't a moral position. I don't care that people do these things; I just don't get it. And this, by itself, has left me woefully unprepared to grasp the changes that have swept through the food world in recent decades. These, I don't think anyone would deny, have been determined largely by money--and I mean the desire both to make it and to impetuously spend it.
...
In other words, we (middle-class Americans) inhabit a world where culinary pleasure knows no boundaries. Choosing has becom a lost art; you can heap your plate with anything you fancy. This, of course, isn't the absolute truth, but it's true enough--certainly to the extent that the culinary aesthetic that shaped me as a cook is of little use at all to anyone launching their little barque today.
p.xxvi
More than anyone else, chefs know that there's so much good food around these days that only a fool takes any of it seriously for longer than a moment. One's eyes must always be fixed on the horizon for the appearance of the next best thing. Their recipes are a restless amalgam of many ingredients, looking for a combination potent enough to seize the eater's fickle attention. In such a milieu, simplicity only commands respect when it exudes its own particular extravagance--impressively costly ingredients, infinite preparation time.
p.xxxiv: Resolutions
3. Keep narrowing my focus. Three decades ago, I yearned to learn everything I could about a range of foreign cuisines. But now, despite [more cookbooks, cooking schools, imported ingredients], authentic connection seems even further away. Times of scarcity produce generalists; times of abundance, specialists--and that means persistently seeking out ingredients and techniques that resonate with one's cooking and relentlessly weeding out what doesn't.
4. ...Eaters are browsers of definition, but cooks who browse will always be slaves to their cookbooks. By keeping an eye open for connections, by adapting one dish according to what I learn from another, I may grow old but my kitchen will stay young.
p.132 [He refers to his book about homes: "Home Body"]
My grandparents' home...was an extremely complex organism--wheezing, stubborn, and surprisingly delicate. The wiring dated back half a century... The steam heat rumbled up from a massive furnace in the basement... It was a house that today would be considered a homeowner's nightmare, but my grandfather took it all in stride.
...In my grandfather's time, a house required continuous care, and owning one meant mastering all sorts of knowledge and performing a never-ending round of upkeep...
The houses of the fifties and afterward demanded no such commitment. Curiously, the result was something you might call responsibility deprivation. Here were houses that asked for little care in a culture still primed with an ethos of devoting time and money to keeping them up. Homeowners felt vaguely immoral doing nothing--and, with nothing much to do, threw themselves into home improvement to fill the void.
I grew up as an army brat, and thus was completely sheltered from the economic forces--and resulting stresses--that shape most American lives. No one we knew risked losing their job because of a downturn in the economy or the whim of a new boss, or possessed conspicuous wealth or even an enviably higher standard of living....
...I also have always had a hard time grasping why people want to make lots of money and, once they have it (or even before), why they buy many of the things they do.
This isn't a moral position. I don't care that people do these things; I just don't get it. And this, by itself, has left me woefully unprepared to grasp the changes that have swept through the food world in recent decades. These, I don't think anyone would deny, have been determined largely by money--and I mean the desire both to make it and to impetuously spend it.
...
In other words, we (middle-class Americans) inhabit a world where culinary pleasure knows no boundaries. Choosing has becom a lost art; you can heap your plate with anything you fancy. This, of course, isn't the absolute truth, but it's true enough--certainly to the extent that the culinary aesthetic that shaped me as a cook is of little use at all to anyone launching their little barque today.
p.xxvi
More than anyone else, chefs know that there's so much good food around these days that only a fool takes any of it seriously for longer than a moment. One's eyes must always be fixed on the horizon for the appearance of the next best thing. Their recipes are a restless amalgam of many ingredients, looking for a combination potent enough to seize the eater's fickle attention. In such a milieu, simplicity only commands respect when it exudes its own particular extravagance--impressively costly ingredients, infinite preparation time.
p.xxxiv: Resolutions
3. Keep narrowing my focus. Three decades ago, I yearned to learn everything I could about a range of foreign cuisines. But now, despite [more cookbooks, cooking schools, imported ingredients], authentic connection seems even further away. Times of scarcity produce generalists; times of abundance, specialists--and that means persistently seeking out ingredients and techniques that resonate with one's cooking and relentlessly weeding out what doesn't.
4. ...Eaters are browsers of definition, but cooks who browse will always be slaves to their cookbooks. By keeping an eye open for connections, by adapting one dish according to what I learn from another, I may grow old but my kitchen will stay young.
p.132 [He refers to his book about homes: "Home Body"]
My grandparents' home...was an extremely complex organism--wheezing, stubborn, and surprisingly delicate. The wiring dated back half a century... The steam heat rumbled up from a massive furnace in the basement... It was a house that today would be considered a homeowner's nightmare, but my grandfather took it all in stride.
...In my grandfather's time, a house required continuous care, and owning one meant mastering all sorts of knowledge and performing a never-ending round of upkeep...
The houses of the fifties and afterward demanded no such commitment. Curiously, the result was something you might call responsibility deprivation. Here were houses that asked for little care in a culture still primed with an ethos of devoting time and money to keeping them up. Homeowners felt vaguely immoral doing nothing--and, with nothing much to do, threw themselves into home improvement to fill the void.
June 15, 2009
Overall, a good and easy read because the book is organized into essays, most tying contemplative comparisons between food and our human behaviors. I respect his opinion that "modern food writing" has devolved into nostalgic autobiographies with some recipes thrown in (these can be enjoyable at times though), but I disliked Thorne's twist on interpreting the genre of books like "Fast Food Nation". He theorizes that the American resolve to regulating/prohibiting "evils" like alcohol, tobacco, and drugs are now extended to fat and sugar in the form of McDonald's et al. Though this oversimplifies his argument, I don't like how he dismisses principles. For example, he says that one person choosing to not thrown a candy wrapper on the ground doesn't solve our litter problem; I say that if the behavior of this one person is compounded, then it can help. Anyway, worth to peruse more than read.
July 10, 2009
The best thing I can say here is I borrowed the book from the library. While reading it, I made three recipes, added it to my birthday list and then copied down three more recipes so that I can make them while waiting for my birthday to come around.
The section on marmalade alone made this book for me.
The section on marmalade alone made this book for me.
September 11, 2009
It's an excellent book. John Thorne always does his homework. The marmalade chapter would send anyone with canning equipment screaming out the door for bags of fresh citrus. Still, there's occasionally something about his tone I find off-putting. It's faint, but it's there. I don't know what it is yet.
September 21, 2009
I can't believe I'd never read John Thorne before this. I completely fell in love with his writing, and his attitude toward cooking. Generally, he does what he feels like, yet still holds reverence for certain concepts and the tradition behind them. In short, I enjoyed the hell out of this book, and I'll definitely be reading the rest of his work soon.
September 22, 2009
Short essays on various food topics, in great and inspiring detail, with sort of a quirky, all-over-the-place appetite. He really gets into ways of tweaking a recipe and why. So inspiring, actually, I went from reading about marmalade on the train home, to stopping at the store and buying some fruit, to eating marmalade a couple of hours later. Very satisfying.
January 18, 2012
Why is it that so many food writers write exquisitely? I mean, food is important -- to eat -- but not that important to read about. Yet Thorne (not to mention others) is irresistable, and unlike some, his writing makes me want to eat what he's writing about. Haven't tried any recipes yet, but will attempt the minestrone this week.
October 12, 2008
Frustratingly pedantic, but there appear to be some good recipes and variations in here. I enjoyed the section on breakfast, and anyone obsessed with using leftover rice and making the perfect bagna cauda can't be all bad.
November 15, 2008
This book was so great that I've added all of Thorne's books to my to-read list! I loved this!
The full (and more in-depth and articulate) review is at my blog.
The full (and more in-depth and articulate) review is at my blog.
July 31, 2011
I love love love the way his mind works - the curiosity, the way he can explain and simplify without dumbing down. The chapters on mashed potatoes, grits, and Chinese rice bowl made me reaaaaally hungry.
January 10, 2013
Excellent food writer; he writes from the heart and the palate. I copied a few of the vegetarian recipes from this book. Especially enjoyed his take on pistachios, my favorite nut; as well as his treatise on what constitutes real Chinese food.
November 11, 2008
One of my favorite food writers.
Want to read
February 22, 2010Essays on food
April 15, 2010
Excellent food writing; I love how Thorne ties food into culture and history, and explores the connection food has with each place, as well as his own experience of it.
August 1, 2012
Signor Minestrone and his midnight cans of Big Lots tamales are welcome at table anytime.
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews