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The Raw and the Cooked: Adventures of a Roving Gourmand
Jim Harrison is one of this country's most beloved writers, a muscular, brilliantly economic stylist with a salty wisdom. For more than twenty years, he has also been writing some of the best essays on food around, now collected in a volume that caused the Santa Fe New Mexican to "To read this book is to come away convinced that Harrison is a flat-out genius — one who devours life with intensity, living it roughly and full-scale, then distills his experiences into passionate, opinionated prose. Food, in this context, is more than It is a metaphor for life." From his legendary Smart and Esquire columns, to present-day pieces including a correspondence with French gourmet Gerard Oberle, fabulous pieces on food in France and America for Men's Journal, and a paean to the humble meatball, The Raw and the Cooked is a nine-course meal that will satisfy every appetite.
"Our 'poet laureate of appetite' [Harrison] may be, but the collected essays here reflect much more." — John Gamino, The Dallas Morning News
"[A] culinary combo plate of Hunter S. Thompson, Ernest Hemingway, Julian Schnabel, and Sam Peckinpah...." — Jane and Michael Stern, The New York Times Book Review
"Jim Harrison is the Henry Miller of food writing. His passion is infectious." — Jeffrey Trachtenberg, The Wall Street Journal
"Our 'poet laureate of appetite' [Harrison] may be, but the collected essays here reflect much more." — John Gamino, The Dallas Morning News
"[A] culinary combo plate of Hunter S. Thompson, Ernest Hemingway, Julian Schnabel, and Sam Peckinpah...." — Jane and Michael Stern, The New York Times Book Review
"Jim Harrison is the Henry Miller of food writing. His passion is infectious." — Jeffrey Trachtenberg, The Wall Street Journal
288 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2001
181 people are currently reading
1424 people want to read
About the author
Jim Harrison
186 books1,475 followersJim Harrison was born in Grayling, Michigan, to Winfield Sprague Harrison, a county agricultural agent, and Norma Olivia (Wahlgren) Harrison, both avid readers. He married Linda King in 1959 with whom he has two daughters.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
His awards include National Academy of Arts grants (1967, 68, 69), a Guggenheim Fellowship (1969-70), the Spirit of the West Award from the Mountain & Plains Booksellers Association, and election to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (2007).
Much of Harrison's writing depicts sparsely populated regions of North America with many stories set in places such as Nebraska's Sand Hills, Michigan's Upper Peninsula, Montana's mountains, and along the Arizona-Mexico border.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
His awards include National Academy of Arts grants (1967, 68, 69), a Guggenheim Fellowship (1969-70), the Spirit of the West Award from the Mountain & Plains Booksellers Association, and election to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences (2007).
Much of Harrison's writing depicts sparsely populated regions of North America with many stories set in places such as Nebraska's Sand Hills, Michigan's Upper Peninsula, Montana's mountains, and along the Arizona-Mexico border.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 95 reviews
March 26, 2022
Grab it with your teeth and run with it might have been an alternative title for this book. The guy cracks me up. It’s not a book for the weak or the sensitive. He has a definite tendency for the ribald, excess, game and organ meat. Harrison was a poet, novelist, Hollywood writer, big time name dropper, outdoorsman and most of all a big eater. Remarkably, he lived to the age of 78 in spite of weight, loving a good bottle of wine (all by himself), smoking, gout, high cholesterol and diabetes. He was found dead with a pen in his hand. A true writer’s death.
These pieces were collected mainly from articles written for Esquire magazine among others. He says one hilarious thing after another. It’s really impossible to pick any one quote, but I’ll try. “I have mentioned before that we are in the middle of yet another of the recurrent sweeps across our nation of the ‘less is more’ bullies. When any of these people arrive in my yard I toss a head of iceberg lettuce and some dog biscuits on the porch…bliss-ninnies.”
My feelings about the book swing violently. Much of the time I found him hilarious, if rough around the edges. Sometimes he was just too much and more than a little revolting. There is a certain amount of irony in a life-style writer who weighs over 300 lbs, happily spends hundreds, no thousands for a fancy meal and hideously expensive wine who thinks he speaks for Native Americans and good values. I started with a 5 rating, slipped into a 4 for grossness and ultimately a 3 for his delusions. The humor fades some after a while.
These pieces were collected mainly from articles written for Esquire magazine among others. He says one hilarious thing after another. It’s really impossible to pick any one quote, but I’ll try. “I have mentioned before that we are in the middle of yet another of the recurrent sweeps across our nation of the ‘less is more’ bullies. When any of these people arrive in my yard I toss a head of iceberg lettuce and some dog biscuits on the porch…bliss-ninnies.”
My feelings about the book swing violently. Much of the time I found him hilarious, if rough around the edges. Sometimes he was just too much and more than a little revolting. There is a certain amount of irony in a life-style writer who weighs over 300 lbs, happily spends hundreds, no thousands for a fancy meal and hideously expensive wine who thinks he speaks for Native Americans and good values. I started with a 5 rating, slipped into a 4 for grossness and ultimately a 3 for his delusions. The humor fades some after a while.
February 4, 2018
I had read an excerpt of this book for a class assignment and the macho food talk was oddly enjoyable. It reflected a certain gusto for just living life that resonated with me. I picked up The Raw and the Cooked so I might see what else Harrison’s writing had to offer, and I wasn’t disappointed. His food porn descriptions had my stomach rumbling like I’d been reading one of Brian Jacques’ Redwallian feast passages. His style isn’t flowery or ambling, Harrison talks frankly about food, sex, and his love of the outdoors and has some great lines throughout that had me snorting to myself as I read.
The book reads like Tony Boudain’s No Reservations. Actually I suppose that should be reversed, No Reservations seems to come from Harrison’s style and stories. I admire and am a little bit jealous of Harrison’s forays into the eating world, his descriptions of places visited and meals tasted left me with a bit of wanderlust. Some of his passages feel name-droppy, but I suppose being able to share meals with those types of people warrants the liberty of doing so.
The diction is clear and easy to read. I can imagine sitting with Harrison in some cabin and listening to him talk about being outdoors-y. I’m not much of a woodswoman, but Harrison manages to make it seem like the only way to live. I can believe there’s a great deal of enrichment that comes from shooting your own meal and slathering it in as much artery-clogging, delicious butter as possible... No I completely agree with him, and now I’m hungry for game birds that I’m not even sure I would actually like the taste of.
I’m in love with the way Harrison works with words. “Life is too short for me to approach a meal with the mincing steps of a Japanese prostitute.” Brilliant. I had the biggest grin when I read that line, it’s such a silly way to address a typical metaphysical quandry. Life is too short, and Harrison embraces the idea of living it to the fullest in a way that’s inspiring.
Normally the macho, gung-ho idealism turns me off from any type of entertainment, but Harrison reminds me of a curmudgeonly grandpa that you like to keep around during the holidays thanks to his sharp tongue and great one-liners.
What I got from The Raw and the Cooked was an inspiring bit of life experience from someone who’s been around for quite a bit longer than I have. Harrison’s book only helped to strengthen my need to travel and adventure and taste, because the overarching theme in many memoirs and works is this: we’re given only a certain amount of time, and not one moment of it should be wasted. I think that any novel that gives that kind of message is worth reading and taking to heart.
The book reads like Tony Boudain’s No Reservations. Actually I suppose that should be reversed, No Reservations seems to come from Harrison’s style and stories. I admire and am a little bit jealous of Harrison’s forays into the eating world, his descriptions of places visited and meals tasted left me with a bit of wanderlust. Some of his passages feel name-droppy, but I suppose being able to share meals with those types of people warrants the liberty of doing so.
The diction is clear and easy to read. I can imagine sitting with Harrison in some cabin and listening to him talk about being outdoors-y. I’m not much of a woodswoman, but Harrison manages to make it seem like the only way to live. I can believe there’s a great deal of enrichment that comes from shooting your own meal and slathering it in as much artery-clogging, delicious butter as possible... No I completely agree with him, and now I’m hungry for game birds that I’m not even sure I would actually like the taste of.
I’m in love with the way Harrison works with words. “Life is too short for me to approach a meal with the mincing steps of a Japanese prostitute.” Brilliant. I had the biggest grin when I read that line, it’s such a silly way to address a typical metaphysical quandry. Life is too short, and Harrison embraces the idea of living it to the fullest in a way that’s inspiring.
Normally the macho, gung-ho idealism turns me off from any type of entertainment, but Harrison reminds me of a curmudgeonly grandpa that you like to keep around during the holidays thanks to his sharp tongue and great one-liners.
What I got from The Raw and the Cooked was an inspiring bit of life experience from someone who’s been around for quite a bit longer than I have. Harrison’s book only helped to strengthen my need to travel and adventure and taste, because the overarching theme in many memoirs and works is this: we’re given only a certain amount of time, and not one moment of it should be wasted. I think that any novel that gives that kind of message is worth reading and taking to heart.
October 19, 2008
Harrison has a voracious appetite for three things: the outdoors (ie. hunting), poetry, and cooking and eating obscene amounts of fatty, rich food (mostly of the wild game, organs, and head cheese variety). His writing is assertive and manly -- think Hemingway on the Food Network.
I've known people who can't stand Harrison's books and think he's a pompous arrogant lout. I, on the other hand, love this book and am fascinated by the way Harrison approaches life (and his food) with a profound, unapologetic gusto. I tried his poetry and couldn't get into it but I suppose I more than make up for it with my affinity for this particular book.
This book is definitely not for the faint of heart or those who prefer their food writing more on the Julia Child side of things. If, however, you are more adventurous in spirit and can keep up with the savage passion by which Harrison lives his life and eats his food, then this is for you.
I've known people who can't stand Harrison's books and think he's a pompous arrogant lout. I, on the other hand, love this book and am fascinated by the way Harrison approaches life (and his food) with a profound, unapologetic gusto. I tried his poetry and couldn't get into it but I suppose I more than make up for it with my affinity for this particular book.
This book is definitely not for the faint of heart or those who prefer their food writing more on the Julia Child side of things. If, however, you are more adventurous in spirit and can keep up with the savage passion by which Harrison lives his life and eats his food, then this is for you.
December 20, 2019
https://rogueliterarysociety.com/f/th...
Nothing better than a review featuring the words of the writer himself. The following quotations are all worth reading and provide a good look into what is in store for the next lucky reader. Jim Harrison is a treasure, and through his great body of work he is a gift that keeps giving.
...there is a tendency to overremember life rather than to look for new life to be lived…
...I emerged from the forest and found a pretty girl who claimed to have read an entire book. She liked to rub her bare body with flowers. We’d be the only whites eating chicken and ribs at a black barbecue. I dug holes with vigor and looked at the full moon through the crack of her butt, framing it just so. I regained those thirty vital pounds lost to the sucking chest wound that is depression…When entering a depression you become a consensus human, a herd creature going through the motions that the wolves, the interior predators, can spot a mile away…
...You shouldn’t read another word if you think you’re going to get some free advice. Over the years my advice has been a contributing factor in at least a half-dozen suicides. Seriously. Now I am limiting my wisdom to food and, occasionally, the connection between food, sex, and depression, in hopes of saving millions of lives…
...My notion, scarcely original, is that if you eat badly you are very probably living badly…Eat and love, to be sure, but you better eat first. And if you are verging on depression and you wish your loins to stir mightily, be careful about what you eat. Don’t, for instance, head into a big platter of choucroute garnie, a heap of wurst, bacon, pig hocks, and sauerkraut, since this meal will make you feel bumpy and murderous. You are suited only for a fistfight or a Big Ten pep rally, or maybe for driving your car into a fire hydrant or an abortion center, but not for a lifting of spirits and the sacred act of love…
...Now we all know that reality is consensual, and if you don’t consent reality quickly dissembles...Life is just what it is. It has no opportunity to be anything else until we make a move and discover how many other things life can be beyond our rather deadening routines…Your entry into the natural world should be sacramental, drawn from a religion without verbs...
...The wilderness does not make you forget your normal life so much as it removes the distractions for proper remembering…To be sure, walking solves or resolves nothing, but it does abolish or erase the questions…A main desire in my “agenda” as a man and artist is not to be located...Many folks had noted that my face, which normally resembles a pleasant beige bowling ball, had begun to acquire a hollow look that revealed the ravages of a life of art. A Native friend warned that Black Elk had said, “The power of the world always works in circles, and everything tries to be round.”
...Effective hunters learn to leave their “selves” at home, no doubt a skill that emerges from survival instincts. Once while skeet shooting, a friend had hit seventeen in a row when I asked if he thought his wife had ever cheated on him. He missed the next six…
...most movies remind me of sitting through a two-hour banjo solo…
...If you want to be loved by your family and friends it is important not to drive them crazy...my behavior was somewhat surly and ursine, though I do recall dancing solo to a Patsy Cline medley on the jukebox with tear-moistened eyes…
...Unless he is witless, he knows very well that all but an infinitesimal amount of writing is tracking fish on a dry riverbed...The life that goes along with the work is best designed as a river that doesn’t turn around and look at itself until it slows down at its unwitting but utterly natural destination…I thought how most writers seem utterly exhausted with their lifelong affair with themselves…
...The landscape, however vast, is insufficiently dramatic to attract the usual sightseers seeking cheap fixes, the kind of tourists who are thrilled by the Elmer Fudd-ish Mount Rushmore, a grotesque insult to a Godfearing mountain. A single glance will make you pray for an earthquake...The Sand Hills are a splendid mood wrench, and when one’s soul has been strained repeatedly through the culture’s most soiled sheets—politics and showbiz—it is one of my dozen secret places to go. It is a sea of grass, and if you are attentive you can watch it grow, an act of great personal solace. All great secrets are as open as the gospels shorn of the banal and murderous freight of church history. As the sage told of his life: Before I was enlightened, I chopped wood and drew water. After I was enlightened, I chopped wood and drew water. Decay emerges from the scorn of the ordinary, or from the political distortion of the ordinary where greed and psychotic tribalism are the most esteemed virtues...
...It seems we are either lapsed or evolving, and every day you can tote up one or another....you have to hold out...for the man who cuts all the ropes so he won’t hang himself...We can’t become inconsolable just because life is incomprehensible.
...There is also the question that perhaps I’ve spent too much of my life refusing to locate myself by anyone else’s version of reality, offering up hearty handclaps to the void…
...Much of the impulse behind my eating is aesthetic, but then occasionally a sort of overdrive kicks in and there’s Mom and Grandma standing behind me howling for me to clean my plate…
...How I’d love to see even a cow without my mind announcing “cow.”...
...The great anthropologist Paul Shepard has an excellent essay on the use of wild creatures in our language. I remember when I was about ten years old and my older brother told me a woman’s genitalia felt like a “damp sparrow.”...
...It suddenly occurred to me that the term “foodie” pisses me off...
Nothing better than a review featuring the words of the writer himself. The following quotations are all worth reading and provide a good look into what is in store for the next lucky reader. Jim Harrison is a treasure, and through his great body of work he is a gift that keeps giving.
...there is a tendency to overremember life rather than to look for new life to be lived…
...I emerged from the forest and found a pretty girl who claimed to have read an entire book. She liked to rub her bare body with flowers. We’d be the only whites eating chicken and ribs at a black barbecue. I dug holes with vigor and looked at the full moon through the crack of her butt, framing it just so. I regained those thirty vital pounds lost to the sucking chest wound that is depression…When entering a depression you become a consensus human, a herd creature going through the motions that the wolves, the interior predators, can spot a mile away…
...You shouldn’t read another word if you think you’re going to get some free advice. Over the years my advice has been a contributing factor in at least a half-dozen suicides. Seriously. Now I am limiting my wisdom to food and, occasionally, the connection between food, sex, and depression, in hopes of saving millions of lives…
...My notion, scarcely original, is that if you eat badly you are very probably living badly…Eat and love, to be sure, but you better eat first. And if you are verging on depression and you wish your loins to stir mightily, be careful about what you eat. Don’t, for instance, head into a big platter of choucroute garnie, a heap of wurst, bacon, pig hocks, and sauerkraut, since this meal will make you feel bumpy and murderous. You are suited only for a fistfight or a Big Ten pep rally, or maybe for driving your car into a fire hydrant or an abortion center, but not for a lifting of spirits and the sacred act of love…
...Now we all know that reality is consensual, and if you don’t consent reality quickly dissembles...Life is just what it is. It has no opportunity to be anything else until we make a move and discover how many other things life can be beyond our rather deadening routines…Your entry into the natural world should be sacramental, drawn from a religion without verbs...
...The wilderness does not make you forget your normal life so much as it removes the distractions for proper remembering…To be sure, walking solves or resolves nothing, but it does abolish or erase the questions…A main desire in my “agenda” as a man and artist is not to be located...Many folks had noted that my face, which normally resembles a pleasant beige bowling ball, had begun to acquire a hollow look that revealed the ravages of a life of art. A Native friend warned that Black Elk had said, “The power of the world always works in circles, and everything tries to be round.”
...Effective hunters learn to leave their “selves” at home, no doubt a skill that emerges from survival instincts. Once while skeet shooting, a friend had hit seventeen in a row when I asked if he thought his wife had ever cheated on him. He missed the next six…
...most movies remind me of sitting through a two-hour banjo solo…
...If you want to be loved by your family and friends it is important not to drive them crazy...my behavior was somewhat surly and ursine, though I do recall dancing solo to a Patsy Cline medley on the jukebox with tear-moistened eyes…
...Unless he is witless, he knows very well that all but an infinitesimal amount of writing is tracking fish on a dry riverbed...The life that goes along with the work is best designed as a river that doesn’t turn around and look at itself until it slows down at its unwitting but utterly natural destination…I thought how most writers seem utterly exhausted with their lifelong affair with themselves…
...The landscape, however vast, is insufficiently dramatic to attract the usual sightseers seeking cheap fixes, the kind of tourists who are thrilled by the Elmer Fudd-ish Mount Rushmore, a grotesque insult to a Godfearing mountain. A single glance will make you pray for an earthquake...The Sand Hills are a splendid mood wrench, and when one’s soul has been strained repeatedly through the culture’s most soiled sheets—politics and showbiz—it is one of my dozen secret places to go. It is a sea of grass, and if you are attentive you can watch it grow, an act of great personal solace. All great secrets are as open as the gospels shorn of the banal and murderous freight of church history. As the sage told of his life: Before I was enlightened, I chopped wood and drew water. After I was enlightened, I chopped wood and drew water. Decay emerges from the scorn of the ordinary, or from the political distortion of the ordinary where greed and psychotic tribalism are the most esteemed virtues...
...It seems we are either lapsed or evolving, and every day you can tote up one or another....you have to hold out...for the man who cuts all the ropes so he won’t hang himself...We can’t become inconsolable just because life is incomprehensible.
...There is also the question that perhaps I’ve spent too much of my life refusing to locate myself by anyone else’s version of reality, offering up hearty handclaps to the void…
...Much of the impulse behind my eating is aesthetic, but then occasionally a sort of overdrive kicks in and there’s Mom and Grandma standing behind me howling for me to clean my plate…
...How I’d love to see even a cow without my mind announcing “cow.”...
...The great anthropologist Paul Shepard has an excellent essay on the use of wild creatures in our language. I remember when I was about ten years old and my older brother told me a woman’s genitalia felt like a “damp sparrow.”...
...It suddenly occurred to me that the term “foodie” pisses me off...
May 15, 2012
I like Jim Harrison and i like the fact that he embraces his appetites (food, wine nature hunting poetry etc ) with such immediacy. His collection of food oriented articles roams around a lot and would probably have been more enjoyable if taken in small bites-rather then by gorging on its 288 pages in less then a week. However Harrison applauds intelligent excess and so do I. Goodreads demands productivity and I continue to meet my marks in consuming books-many of which qualify as literature. This book by Harrison may not rise to the level ofhis best work but it certainly made me wish I was having a bigmeal with big drinks with Harrison tonight. If you like small meals and tepid sensitivity then avoid this book. If the concept of too mucg garlic is alien to your conception of life -then dive in.
December 3, 2018
In this book, a collection of short, non-fiction pieces about food (and the great outdoors), Harrison writes with a flair that makes gluttony sound appealing.
June 11, 2025
very fun to read, Jim's writing style pertaining to food is a joy
December 18, 2019
The words are pretty but the essays are dull, despite a lot of name-dropping. They feel pretentious at times, aggressive, falsely modest. It’s good writing that I don’t like.
February 22, 2016
I have come across this author thanks to my brother who started reading his works a couple of years ago. I have NO IDEA why he never came across my reading radar before! He is a big hit in France, probably because much of his work appeals to the French idea of La France Profonde. He writes novels (THEY are a bit bawdy, but hilariously so[isn't ALL bawdiness hilarious?], very good poetry, and essays. This tome collects many of his food related essays. He is not afraid, in fact he's eager, to skewer sacred cows. (He hates Republicans and what they have, are, and will be doing to our country!) I urge you to take a look at his works and this volume is a great start. From Amazon:Jim Harrison is one of this country's most beloved writers, a muscular, brilliantly economic stylist with a salty wisdom. For more than twenty years, he has also been writing some of the best essays on food around, now collected in a volume that caused the Santa Fe New Mexican to exclaim: "To read this book is to come away convinced that Harrison is a flat-out genius -- one who devours life with intensity, living it roughly and full-scale, then distills his experiences into passionate, opinionated prose. Food, in this context, is more than food: It is a metaphor for life." From his legendary Smart and Esquire columns, to present-day pieces including a correspondence with French gourmet Gerard Oberle, fabulous pieces on food in France and America for Men's Journal, and a paean to the humble meatball, The Raw and the Cooked is a nine-course meal that will satisfy every appetite. "Our 'poet laureate of appetite' [Harrison] may be, but the collected essays here reflect much more." -- John Gamino, The Dallas Morning News "[A] culinary combo plate of Hunter S. Thompson, Ernest Hemingway, Julian Schnabel, and Sam Peckinpah...." -- Jane and Michael Stern, The New York Times Book Review "Jim Harrison is the Henry Miller of food writing. His passion is infectious." -- Jeffrey Trachtenberg, The Wall Street Journal
June 18, 2019
Food writing from the 80's and 90's feels much older than it is. Coming from a time when most American cities were lucky to have one truly good restaurant, let alone an entire catalog of bloggable craft farm-to-table authentically ethnic eateries, these stories tell the tale of a different kind of food tourist, one who had to travel and spend big money to find what he calls a decent meal. Overall, after reading this, one is thankful that the internet forced us (in a twisted way) to take Harrison's advice: eat better at every meal.
Harrison is a relentless carnivore, and although he is devoted to responsible meat to the point of killing much of what he eats himself, over the course of dozens of essays and articles the sheer number of animals slaughtered for his enjoyment starts to overwhelm. Whether he's in Michigan or France, ducks, pigs, cows, sheep, fish, and everything else that tastes good sautéd in garlic would do best to flee to heights or depths he cannot reach.
Throughout the book, Harrison's zeal for a simple, unapologetic life of pleasure and kindness shows up again and again in well-turned phrases and admonishments of anything even remotely out of touch with the simple beauty of being alive. Whether or not you can stomach the volume of his eating, you cannot argue with his purpose. His time on earth is but a fraction of a moment, and he intends to enjoy it.
Harrison is a relentless carnivore, and although he is devoted to responsible meat to the point of killing much of what he eats himself, over the course of dozens of essays and articles the sheer number of animals slaughtered for his enjoyment starts to overwhelm. Whether he's in Michigan or France, ducks, pigs, cows, sheep, fish, and everything else that tastes good sautéd in garlic would do best to flee to heights or depths he cannot reach.
Throughout the book, Harrison's zeal for a simple, unapologetic life of pleasure and kindness shows up again and again in well-turned phrases and admonishments of anything even remotely out of touch with the simple beauty of being alive. Whether or not you can stomach the volume of his eating, you cannot argue with his purpose. His time on earth is but a fraction of a moment, and he intends to enjoy it.
April 7, 2008
I'm a Jim Harrison fan, more of his poetry than fiction, more of his fiction than his food writing. With that said, there are some absolute howlers in this collection of his magazine articles over a multi-year period. I can see him hunting wit Guy de la Valdene, cooking the birds, digging the potatoes, and enjoying it all with a magnum of fine wine. It truly urges me race to the kitchen and begin cooking...or go hunting. He is a very masculine writer, pithy sentences, strong words, and truly funny descriptions. The New York Times had a video interview with him this past year (maybe it is still available on back issues) He is in his New Mexico home, cooking on what I anticipated to be a Viking range with French copper cookwear. Instead, we see an aging Harrison, a real guy, cooking on an old electric range in a normal kitchen in Revere Ware pots. What a guy!!! I loved him even more for that.
December 9, 2007
I don’t think I learned much about cuisine or wine from reading this, but I did learn that Harrison is very concerned with metaphysical question of what it means to be a big man with big appetites.
There is a certain superiority in all food writing I guess, but I have never seen it presented with so much, um, testosterone. Food writing is often food bragging, which I don't mind. I like hearing war stories about crazy meals eaten, but Harrison takes this to a new metaphysical level where hunting, fishing and gorging yourself are the only pursuits that make a man a man. I found it at times to be a little silly, basically. Ice fishing is cool and all, but it doesn’t make you John Wayne.
And who wants to be John Wayne anyway?
There is a certain superiority in all food writing I guess, but I have never seen it presented with so much, um, testosterone. Food writing is often food bragging, which I don't mind. I like hearing war stories about crazy meals eaten, but Harrison takes this to a new metaphysical level where hunting, fishing and gorging yourself are the only pursuits that make a man a man. I found it at times to be a little silly, basically. Ice fishing is cool and all, but it doesn’t make you John Wayne.
And who wants to be John Wayne anyway?
August 8, 2016
I just don't know about this one. Bits of this were hilarious and intensely quotable. Jim Harrison's attitude toward food and life is admirable and very entertaining. But the name-dropping...the Hunter S. Thompson-meets-Jim Morrison levels of white male pseudo-rebellion and self-importance...Jim Harrison has some wildly valuable insights into the nature of living, but he also says fucked up things like, "Maybe I made up all these fibs because no one asked me to be headmaster of a home for dysfunctional cheerleaders." Why, Jim, so you could take advantage of them sexually? I can't find any different way to interpret that "joke."
All-in-all, the good doesn't outweigh the bad. At best, they break even. This is a book for people who still idolize Hemingway.
All-in-all, the good doesn't outweigh the bad. At best, they break even. This is a book for people who still idolize Hemingway.
February 8, 2009
brilliant! if john thorne is the best living writer of american everyday cookbooks, then jim harrison is the best living writer of american everyday eating. except it's not everyday eating. cannot recommend it highly enough
May 26, 2012
Absolutely passionate! As a true French woman, I love my butcher . The street markets with live animals to kill. It is all a mixture of our basic instincts. To enjoy life, sex, to cook, to wallow in La Grosse Bouffe ! Very fun! A book I will keep out to glance into for a good read.
February 4, 2016
pretentious
February 12, 2019
This book makes me want to cook more (and better), spend more time in nature, and drink more wine. Even though a lot of the references are dated the sentiment is timeless.
July 16, 2021
Ugh, one more gross, entitled white dude pontificating about his privilege. Hard freaking pass
January 31, 2024
Jim Harrison was cool as fuck, and I need to read more of his books. In this collection of food columns and essays, he somehow ties the act of cooking at eating to every facet of human existence, with particular focus on art, sex, politics, and our very existence within the natural order.
Thoughts and notes, in no particular order:
- Throughout his columns, Harrison casually mentions epic dinners with Jack Nicholson and Orson Welles, coke-fueled fishing trips with Jimmy Buffet, and random meals spent with other big-name celebrities and chefs. I figured he was bullshitting, but after doing a bit of research I discovered that he was in fact homies with all these people. As a screenwriter, he was mildly successful, but I guess even mid-tier screenwriters could make crazy connections back in the day. Of course, it probably helped that he was cool as fuck, as I said.
- Harrison was the closest thing we had to a modern pagan. By that, I mean that he essentially (if not explicitly) worshiped nature as a higher power, and he saw it as the closest thing humankind had to a manifestation of God. This lends his insights into food, cooking, and hunting a particular level of spiritual weight that other food writers don't have. He was not a vegetarian — not even close — but he nonetheless had an incredible amount of respect for animals, and he believed that the gap between us and the animals we eat should be closed, made more intimate. Alienation is, after all, at the root of all cruelty. Factory farming and slaughter depends upon our alienation from animals, and those things were logically an anathema to Harrison.
- This psuedo-paganism lent him generally agreeable political opinions (developed class consciousness, stinging criticism of capitalism, profit optimization, and corporate farming/food, incredible disdain for Nixon and Reagan, etc). The Bill Clinton cheerleading is a bit embarrassing at times, but meh, no one is perfect.
- Google Jim Harrison and look at a few photos of him. If he got laid even half the amount of times that he says he did, then no one has any excuse. It does help that he has a great sense of humor.
- I really love, admire, and aspire to be Harrison's particular brand of gourmand. He appreciated all types of fine meals, particularly those made from wild game and locally sourced ingredients. Of course, he had high standards, and he hated fast food (to my chagrin), but he had an incredibly open mind, and he was never pretentious nor snooty about his tastes. Respect.
Thoughts and notes, in no particular order:
- Throughout his columns, Harrison casually mentions epic dinners with Jack Nicholson and Orson Welles, coke-fueled fishing trips with Jimmy Buffet, and random meals spent with other big-name celebrities and chefs. I figured he was bullshitting, but after doing a bit of research I discovered that he was in fact homies with all these people. As a screenwriter, he was mildly successful, but I guess even mid-tier screenwriters could make crazy connections back in the day. Of course, it probably helped that he was cool as fuck, as I said.
- Harrison was the closest thing we had to a modern pagan. By that, I mean that he essentially (if not explicitly) worshiped nature as a higher power, and he saw it as the closest thing humankind had to a manifestation of God. This lends his insights into food, cooking, and hunting a particular level of spiritual weight that other food writers don't have. He was not a vegetarian — not even close — but he nonetheless had an incredible amount of respect for animals, and he believed that the gap between us and the animals we eat should be closed, made more intimate. Alienation is, after all, at the root of all cruelty. Factory farming and slaughter depends upon our alienation from animals, and those things were logically an anathema to Harrison.
- This psuedo-paganism lent him generally agreeable political opinions (developed class consciousness, stinging criticism of capitalism, profit optimization, and corporate farming/food, incredible disdain for Nixon and Reagan, etc). The Bill Clinton cheerleading is a bit embarrassing at times, but meh, no one is perfect.
- Google Jim Harrison and look at a few photos of him. If he got laid even half the amount of times that he says he did, then no one has any excuse. It does help that he has a great sense of humor.
- I really love, admire, and aspire to be Harrison's particular brand of gourmand. He appreciated all types of fine meals, particularly those made from wild game and locally sourced ingredients. Of course, he had high standards, and he hated fast food (to my chagrin), but he had an incredibly open mind, and he was never pretentious nor snooty about his tastes. Respect.
May 31, 2023
I tried. My brother-in-law enthusiastically gave me this book, and I can see why. I like good food. I like travel. I like acting. Jim Harrison also likes good food and travel, and he's hung out with movie stars. But beyond the surface stats, I really didn't like the author much.
He has good points. He's upfront and honest about his struggles with depression and obesity. He's frank and forthright about his love of beautiful bodies and sex. He has a gusto about him. But I was just kind of... bored.
Harrison struck me as one of those people who, at a party, would be very self-satisfied over his graciousness in letting you speak about whatever it was you spoke about for ten seconds before launching into his next story about how interesting he is and all the cool stuff he's done, but he's totally humble about it, you know? His stories are all about him and how he felt about things. Anyone else who appears is just a name (most of the men) or a body (most of the women) that exists as a prop in his personal drama.
I got about a quarter of the way through before giving up. It was kind of the same thing over and over again. Another list of the enormous quantities of meat and wine that Harrison has downed at one sitting. Another rather sad soliloquy on Harrison's physical problems. Another list of celebrities he's hung out with.
And the asides. The book is written with the assumption that you like the same kind of music, food, and literature as Harrison. If you don't, I think you're going to be lost half the time. He's constantly referring off the cuff to songs, French preparations of meat, or literary characters that mean something to him. But the meaning will be lost, and the entire sentence or paragraph wasted on you, if you haven't read, eaten, or listened to the same thing.
Here's a good example. One chapter starts with the sentence, "I am on the road for reasons unshared by Kerouac & Kuralt, Charlie Starkweather & William Least Heat Moon." I get the Kerouac reference. Is Kuralt- Charles Kuralt? And the other two I have no idea. Am I invested enough in what he's telling me to go look them up and try to piece together what he means? No.
Finally, he refers to his dick as a "weenie". I can not abide anyone who uses that term. If you're the sort of person who finds that funny or humble or something, this may be the book for you.
He has good points. He's upfront and honest about his struggles with depression and obesity. He's frank and forthright about his love of beautiful bodies and sex. He has a gusto about him. But I was just kind of... bored.
Harrison struck me as one of those people who, at a party, would be very self-satisfied over his graciousness in letting you speak about whatever it was you spoke about for ten seconds before launching into his next story about how interesting he is and all the cool stuff he's done, but he's totally humble about it, you know? His stories are all about him and how he felt about things. Anyone else who appears is just a name (most of the men) or a body (most of the women) that exists as a prop in his personal drama.
I got about a quarter of the way through before giving up. It was kind of the same thing over and over again. Another list of the enormous quantities of meat and wine that Harrison has downed at one sitting. Another rather sad soliloquy on Harrison's physical problems. Another list of celebrities he's hung out with.
And the asides. The book is written with the assumption that you like the same kind of music, food, and literature as Harrison. If you don't, I think you're going to be lost half the time. He's constantly referring off the cuff to songs, French preparations of meat, or literary characters that mean something to him. But the meaning will be lost, and the entire sentence or paragraph wasted on you, if you haven't read, eaten, or listened to the same thing.
Here's a good example. One chapter starts with the sentence, "I am on the road for reasons unshared by Kerouac & Kuralt, Charlie Starkweather & William Least Heat Moon." I get the Kerouac reference. Is Kuralt- Charles Kuralt? And the other two I have no idea. Am I invested enough in what he's telling me to go look them up and try to piece together what he means? No.
Finally, he refers to his dick as a "weenie". I can not abide anyone who uses that term. If you're the sort of person who finds that funny or humble or something, this may be the book for you.
January 3, 2019
I think it was Esquire and then maybe Outside that carried his food column, collected here along with other food-related essays. I couldn't wait for the magazines to come back then. I got this book when it came out in 2001 at the bookstore in Travis City near where he lived and I've been reading it off and on since. Now that he died and I have more time to finish books in my unfinished pile, I didn't want to let it go. I still want to be Jim Harrison when I grow up, as I still want to be Carleton Fisk. I love reading his whirlwind style, a very precocious man who knows a lot about a lot and brings it all together in what seems a free-form juxtaposition of a myriad of references and images and philosophical gems all at one time. He was our philosophical king, a fact confirmed by Bill Murray on Jimmy Kimmel right after he died. And isn't that a Jim Harrison kind of way to go, being lauded on an American talk show for his wisdom. I've got two more unread Jim Harrisons in my pile. That tempered my fear of getting to the end here. But. I'll hold off on those until I study French cooking, never eat a crappy meal again, and begin hunting game birds. Then maybe I'll be just a little more grown up.
July 10, 2017
I have always adored Harrison's fiction and poetry. No doubt.
This offering, although seasoned well with tidbits of what makes Harrison so intriguing, is also over-salted like his memoirs.
The whole, 'I champion the poor huddled masses, the impoverished and idle', as he marinates his liver in thousand dollars bottles of wine and guzzles V.O., dusts his nasal cavity with Colombian happy powder, eats force fed goose liver like potato chips, leers after countless trollops, name drops other snobbish liberal twerps, twats and whores of Hollywood, old money dweebs, and trust fund babies - who are his buddies of gluttony - is bilious and hypocritical.
There is gold to be found here but you must don hip waders if you don't want to soil your trousers in pig shit. In the end chapter, he sings to Bill Clinton, easily one of the most despicable critters this planet has ever spawned.
There is the bird dog gold, the unapologetic hunting and angling, the love of good food, and beautiful quotes and poetry, you just have to endure a smell of manure from time to time while reading.
This offering, although seasoned well with tidbits of what makes Harrison so intriguing, is also over-salted like his memoirs.
The whole, 'I champion the poor huddled masses, the impoverished and idle', as he marinates his liver in thousand dollars bottles of wine and guzzles V.O., dusts his nasal cavity with Colombian happy powder, eats force fed goose liver like potato chips, leers after countless trollops, name drops other snobbish liberal twerps, twats and whores of Hollywood, old money dweebs, and trust fund babies - who are his buddies of gluttony - is bilious and hypocritical.
There is gold to be found here but you must don hip waders if you don't want to soil your trousers in pig shit. In the end chapter, he sings to Bill Clinton, easily one of the most despicable critters this planet has ever spawned.
There is the bird dog gold, the unapologetic hunting and angling, the love of good food, and beautiful quotes and poetry, you just have to endure a smell of manure from time to time while reading.
June 25, 2018
Jim Harrison had some big shoes to fill and he couldn't quite fit into that void that Jeffrey Steingarten's The Man Who Ate Everything left in my heart. I understand that it isn't fair to compare apples to orangess, and Harrison does go into detail about things like hunting and dealing with obesity, his connection to nature and Midwestern life. Some of these are engrossing topics that are only emphasized with some crisp yet heavy writing, but that is also his downfall. Some of these topics are boring. Harrison's writing is ok, but doesn't help when the topic isn't as engrossing. And really, food should be described in all of it's fully sensual and sensational glory and I just didn't feel that Harrison did that.
February 1, 2022
An enjoyable read enjoyably written with one exceptional moment on page 175:
"There is an inordinate capacity in institutions, whether governments, universities, publishers, or studios, to turn pretty good wine, vintage or not, into distilled water that they hope everyone will want to drink. You have to hold out for the wine, even blood, nights that are actually dark, bears that aren't teddy, gritty women like you actually know, children who die contorted into question marks, the sun on people who never bought lotion, the human voice not reduced to prattle, animals who have never been watched, the man who cuts all the ropes so he won't hang himself."
"There is an inordinate capacity in institutions, whether governments, universities, publishers, or studios, to turn pretty good wine, vintage or not, into distilled water that they hope everyone will want to drink. You have to hold out for the wine, even blood, nights that are actually dark, bears that aren't teddy, gritty women like you actually know, children who die contorted into question marks, the sun on people who never bought lotion, the human voice not reduced to prattle, animals who have never been watched, the man who cuts all the ropes so he won't hang himself."
September 1, 2025
While by no means an endorsement for the lifestyle of Jim Harrison — what with all the gout and ankle injuries mentioned throughout — this is a beautiful book about connecting to the world on a deeper level through food. I have just about every page dogeared because something great appears there. Though the book made me run swiftly to my sprouted oats and Greek yogurt, it also had me sprint to more Jim Harrison books. I love that, in the end — following countless adventures into seemingly impenetrable dishes — Harrison generously gives us a simple spaghetti and meatballs recipe, and an endorsement for a cookbook purportedly for novice men to get their butts into the kitchen.
January 16, 2021
This guy could sure blast out with a brilliantly constructed sentence or two. He describes communing with nature and savoring a lovingly constructed meal with such a powerful life force that the reader feels their body craving a hike in the flowing fields followed by a meal of pan fried sweetbreads. I would recommend taking your time with it though, as a collection of his magazine column it is incredibly repetitive. Readers originally read only one a month. You should do the same or risk frustration with his routine, and that would be a shame.
March 31, 2025
The author's writing about food is like being presented with an unbelievable feast. I'm sure I gained weight just reading this book. The book is scattered with paragraphs about the current USA presidency and other politicians - "I was thinking how in the past nine years the Republicans, with the dithering cooperation of the shamelessly class-conscious media, had isolated the bottom one-third of our population as social mutants. Frankly, this is unchristian and these assholes better pay for it in hell, since they are doing quite comfortably on earth."
May 18, 2017
What a glutton! And proud of it. I read recently that Harrison liked to have food shipped from all over the work. And the gluttony! I still contend that food writing is one of the weakest form of writing in terms of the subject growing boring over time (the foods we eat) but there really isn't that much to say about it. Meals I have eaten. His nature poems are better.
June 20, 2018
Je croyais avoir déjà écrit mon commentaire !
C'est bien écrit, avec souvent de l'humour, et l'auteur est visiblement un bon vivant. Mais trop c'est trop : ses descriptions de repas et de bouteilles bues font douter de leur réalité ! C'est aussi que ce sont des chroniques qu'il faudrait lire une fois par semaine, et pas tout à la suite...
C'est bien écrit, avec souvent de l'humour, et l'auteur est visiblement un bon vivant. Mais trop c'est trop : ses descriptions de repas et de bouteilles bues font douter de leur réalité ! C'est aussi que ce sont des chroniques qu'il faudrait lire une fois par semaine, et pas tout à la suite...
November 9, 2017
This one took me awhile to finish because I savored every word. The essays are chock full of witty observations, suggestions on wine pairings, recipes for game dishes and musings on life lessons. The theme through out is that life must be lived vividly.
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