Beth Dooley arrived in Minnesota from her native New Jersey with preconceptions about the Midwestern food scene. Having learned to cook in her grandmother’s kitchen, shopping at farm stands and making preserves, she couldn’t help but wonder, “Do people here really eat swampy broccoli, iceberg lettuce, and fried chicken for lunch everyday?” These assumptions quickly faded as she began to explore farmers’ markets and the burgeoning co-op scene in the Twin Cities, and eventually discovered a local food movement strong enough to survive the toughest winter. From the husband and wife who run one of the largest organic farms in the region to Native Americans harvesting wild rice, and from award-winning cheesemakers to Hmong immigrant farmers growing the best sweet potatoes in the country, a rich ecosystem of farmers, artisanal producers, and restaurateurs comes richly to life in this fascinating book. In Winter’s Kitchen “personalizes the path from farm to fork with heart and skill” ( Wall Street Journal ), demonstrating that even in a place with a short growing season, food grown locally and organically can be healthy, community-based, environmentally conscious, and—most of all—delicious.
Gorgeously written, In Winter's Kitchen is almost an Omnivore's Dilemma for the Minnesotan. I loved the vignettes of all the farmers who produce in this region and learned so much about where I can find some good local food for my kitchen. I'll absolutely try the recipes in the back and explore more of Dooley's writing.
Each time I read a book like this I am nudged just a bit farther along in the journey toward having a sustainable kitchen. I may never get there in a comprehensive sense, but each discovery of a new food source that is whole and sustainable and unprocessed and untrucked is a small victory for our planet and for my family's health.
I love local food. I want to support farmers in my state. I want agriculture that is in tune with nature and is delicious. I want the US to change it’s farm policy to better support small farms and move away from industrial farms. So why did I feel so aggravated and this book? The economics of our agricultural system are important and complicated. The moments of analysis here are silly and arrogant. Cheap food is important for many people. Local, organic food is out of reach for many people.
Mostly I just felt judged buying some non local food.
2.5 stars. I so badly wanted to love this book, but there was just so much unchecked privilege, I struggled to get through it. I enjoyed the parts that included local farmers, but not enough to redeem the book. It came across as preachy about the benefits of eating local without acknowledging the significant barriers to do so. I also feel like there weren’t enough indigenous perspectives, especially when you are discussing the history of cultivating foods in Minnesota.
Ended up skimming. Probably a very good read for anyone new to the topics, but I felt it was fairly redundant with books I’ve already read.
Michael Pollan did Apples and Potatoes in The Botany of Desire. John McPhee covered Chestnut blight. We talked about eating local with Barbara Kingsolver in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. And I am versed in farming, agriculture, and indigenous foods through my job.
I found some of the info interesting and her writing is easy to follow and has some great turns of phrase. But overall this was too dense and verbose for my taste. Ladies at book club either loved it or found it “preachy,” “too long, “too intense.” They did like the Thanksgiving theme. So they didn’t inspire me to revisit it after all. Honestly, I was expecting more memoir and heartwarming stories about food than facts and research about farming so it may also be mismatched expectations.
This is a love story to the local foods of the Northern Heartland. It highlights some great food history and culture, and also chronicles the activism of the local food movement of the area from the early 1980s to early 2000s. There are some family anecdotes that often feel forced and don't flow with the other information, and an obvious agenda in this writing. While I didn't hate the book, I also didn't always agree with the profound privilege that was absolutely unchecked in this author's version of what foods are important. To borrow a phrase from another movement, my personal philosophy is "fed is best." We can and should strive for the healthiest options, but also must acknowledge that not everyone has the same opportunities. Recognizing our privilege regarding food is very important.
The author had a tendency to go off on tangents, but when she had something important to say, she said it with much research and conviction, Each of the food topics she discussed had bad news/good news issues. She talked about the importance of the local food movement and sustainability as well as the problems with big food corporations and lack of plant and animal diversity.
I started this book expecting a typical food memoir but realized quickly that this book was not that. While there are aspects of the book that cross into the memoir category, it is much more than that. It is a beautifully written book about local foods and food culture in the Northern United States, a much different place than the temperate climates of California, the northeast, and other areas that seem to be so typically talked about in "foodie" books. I found this refreshing and relevant seeing as I live in a similar climate.
Each chapter of the book is focused on a certain food (wild rice, potatoes, milk, apples, etc) that takes off into a reflection on so much more than just the food, but also on the history and the heritage of the region and how it relates to that specific topic.
This is not a fast paced book. There were times when I wanted to just move on, but when I told myself to just slow down and really concentrate on what she was saying I realized that there was so much of worth in her words.
For example: "It's taken me years to fully appreciate what it means to live in this region that gives its food so reluctantly. Unlike those who live with moderate temperatures, we are governed by distinctly different seasons. The dramatic weather shapes our physical and emotional landscapes. We celebrate the year's changing riches: the autumn's crisp air, brilliant colors, and snappy apples; winter's bluster and those simmering and warming stews. We yearn for spring's tender greens and pink rhubarb and delight in summer's golden corn. Come July, the perfect juice-split tomatoes reward our January patient. We take so little for granted, and it's by getting to know the people who grow my food that I've come to better appreciate its real value and the role it plays in my life."
And: "When asked 'Can local food feed the world?' I can only reply, 'Why do we think it should?' Its role is not to deliver the most food at the lowest cost, regardless of the flavor or nutrient content. Its value cannot be measured in pounds harvested or money saved. In this system, decisions are made with an eye to the soil's fertility, human health, fair wages for workers, and the animal's welfare. Its highest consideration is the future, no the immediate impact on the bottom line."
[Pages 256-257]
This book has encouraged me to seek out even more local products, the food I eat and the people to provide it. I am left feeling warm inside! :)
Shout out to library displays for helping me discover this gem!! I didn’t even realize this was published by one of my favorite indie publishers!! This book gave me a lot to think about and I’d like to buy a copy so I can return to it. I did have a hard time with the dairy chapters bc vegan, and had a hard time reconciling the last three chapters bc the irony of Thanksgiving after an entire chapter of indigenous folks fighting for their right to harvest felt…odd. But like I said, it gave me lots to think about and helped to reconfigure my idea of what “Midwest food” consists of.
When Beth Dooley first moved to Minneapolis from New Jersey in 1979, she was dismayed by the poor selection of fresh food in the commercial supermarket. She’d heard that Minnesota was a farm state, yet the wilted vegetables and sallow fruit seemed to come from somewhere else entirely. But soon Ms. Dooley discovered the Farmer’s Market and other local food sources. The first Thanksgiving in her new home wasn’t quite up to snuff, but since then she’s learned how to cook for a cold climate.
Beth Dooley is a food writer who’s published six cookbooks and often guests on public radio. She obviously loves cooking and writing about food. There’s many sense words in the descriptions of land and ingredients, which makes this book mouth-watering.
The emphasis is on local food sourcing for the Upper Midwest, concentrating on Minnesota and western Wisconsin. Each chapter focuses on an ingredient for a Thanksgiving feast, from apples to wild rice (and not forgetting the turkey.) Along the way, she talks about relevant subjects from organic and sustainable farming through urban gardens to Native American rights.
There are tales of the friends Ms. Dooley has met during her searches, many of them independent farmers and small business owners who are struggling to get by. She also frequently puts in stories of her family as well. There’s also quite a bit of politics, which may come as a surprise to people who aren’t foodies, but is inescapable when you talk about locally sourced food.
One subtext that struck me is that Beth Dooley has always been well enough off that she could afford to pay a little extra for the better ingredients, and to take the extra time and effort to find them and make meals from scratch. This perspective may rub people who work two full-time jobs and struggle even to pay for basics the wrong way. She’s not concerned with “feeding the world” so much as doing well for the future of local “real” food.
After the main text are a number of yummy-looking recipes suitable for Thanksgiving, end notes and a list of books for further reading, all with a more personal touch than strictly scholarly.
Aside from some redundancy which suggests the chapters first appeared as a series elsewhere, the writing is top-notch.
Strongly recommended to foodies who have an interest in locally-sourced food, Minnesotans, and those interested in finding out where their food comes from.
This is a very timely read for me, living in Minneapolis experiencing the bracing winter here at the moment. Lately I've been profoundly inspired to explore what food and cooking means to me. Each chapter in this book allowed me to trek through memories of growing up in the midwest in a small town surrounded by fields, with friends and family working closely to local produce and meat. However I've always felt a bit disconnected from the statistical facts backing their livelihoods. This book presented those facts to me, whether it was the need to diversify the growing process of apples and wheat or the simple fact that Minnesota raises the most turkeys in the country. While reading I yearned to taste once again my grandma's applie dumplings she makes for a local orchard, or to try making a butter braid recipe I used to make on repeat in hopes of it entering the 4-H State Fair competition. While nostalgic, this book also made me look at ingredients with a new perspective of searching not just for the cheapest option at the grocery store, but going to the local Co-op and purchasing fresh, organic cranberries, potatoes, and chestnuts. Dooley made it seem like this was the only way to purchase food, which is amazing but not accessible to everyone. I wish I could afford to do that every time I go grocery shopping, but it's just not doable at this time in my life. Overall I really, really enjoyed this book. My only qualms with it is when Dooley begins blaming food choices on higher healthcare costs. I just don't see it that way and there is certainly an amount of privilege to her manner of sourcing food. I recommend this book to anyone living in the midwest that has any interest in farming, food, and cooking. I often find myself uninspired and a bit depressed about midwest winter month's lack of farmers markets and loss of bountiful gardens. Dooley sums up this feeling pretty well in writing, "It's taken me years to fully appreciate what is means to live in this region that gives its food so reluctantly... the dramatic weather shapes our physical and emotional landscape. We celebrate the year's changing riches: the autumn's crisp air, brilliant colors, and snappy apples; winter's bluster and those simmering and warming stews. We year for spring's tender greens and pink rhubarb and delight in summer's golden corn. Come July, the perfect juice-split tomatoes reward out January patience." (256-57)
Beth Dooley moves to Minnesota when she's a young woman and begins to explore the local food and farming. Let's start with what I liked about this book: I liked Dooley's exploration of farming, separated by a specific food for each chapter (apples, wheat, sweet potatoes, corn ...). I was fascinated by the history of food and farming in the Upper Northwest—for example, all the varieties of apples that once existed for specific reasons and what we have lost. Did you know Honeycrisp has become the blah mainstream apple according to connoisseurs? And the writing is quite flowery, which I don't typically enjoy but it felt right in this context. However, Dooley, a longtime cookbook writer, intersperses family essays throughout the book. They are only one to two pages but often feel out of place and jarring. I'm not sure why some of them are there or what they have to do with a chapter on wheat or corn. There's also an unintended elitist element to the book, as Dooley promotes buying local and organic, but that means expensive raw milk cheeses and turkeys straight from the farm. Yes, delicious and important, but most people can't afford to buy those for their regular groceries. I recommend reading the book for the history of each vegetable or animal product, but skimming the parts you find boring.
_In Winter's Kitchen_ is a memoir, a collection of nonfiction food history/food justice stories, and a set of recipes (for residents in northern climes in particular) for a Thanksgiving feast. Organized by food item (apples, chestnuts, wild rice, turkey, etc), it includes stories from Dooley's own life alongside tales about the food and its presence in the American food landscape, including the food marketplace. I am guessing--though I haven't read other reviews--that her writing would encourage parallels to Michael Pollan. I picked up this book because 1) I love to cook and I like nonfiction books about food and environmental justice; and 2) I now live in a place with long, cold, dark winters. Yet even though I would seemingly be the ideal audience for the text, something about it didn't "click" for me.... Maybe the tone or maybe the (dis)connections between self and the larger food story of a given chapter... I read to the end, but I didn't love this book. I would not NOT recommend it, though, especially to anyone making home in a new, unfamiliar place--and using food to do so--and to anyone who loves to read the backstories to our favorite kitchen table items.
Like a lot of other folks, I wanted to love this book because I have lived on the North shore of Lake Superior and am personally familiar with several of the farmers and companies who were featured. But even though it was published less than a decade ago, it feels dated. It has a very twee quality to the descriptions of the farms (not all farmers are rangy and smiling, and the reality of farming IS beautiful, but it's also pretty gross and hard a lot of the time) and a lot of the analysis of the economic barriers for both small farmers and for the modern eater were simplified. Several other reviewers already mentioned privilege- there is a definite element to the writing both of economic privilege, but also in a White Liberal way. I was also really disappointed that the wild rice chapter was so short, despite it being such an important part of food culture in MN and the upper Great Lakes (also, that recipe was a joke). It felt like something tacked on to the end of the book to just tick a box that she mentioned indigenous foods. Overall, it was fine. But only fine.
I began this book 6 years ago!! and just recently decided to finish it. Each chapter discusses various foods, providing much information about whatever the chapter is about. Most interesting to me is that Beth Dooley lives in the Twin Cities, so the farms she visited and highlights in her book are in the area.
The chapter regarding potatoes highlights Jack Hedin, owner of Featherstone Farm in Rushford, MN. When I read the name of this farm, I thought to myself, “That farm name is familiar to me.” I went to the fridge and, sure enough, I found carrots from Featherstone Farm in the vegetable drawer, recently purchased at a local co-op. How cool is that?
Reading this book will cause me to pay closer attention to my food sources, as well as to support small organic farmers whose farming practices protect and care for the land they use.
I was secretly hoping and this book delivers the emotions and facts about food, the kind of facts I've been looking to find out about food. There's so much mistery and lack of education about food, I cannot believe to what point we've come as a "civilized" nation. I grew up under no GMO food, playing with no toys essentially, and I am now realizing that everything I grab at the store is questionable. This book helps me learn about the real food, ancient foods, it is helping me find ways to eat well, teach my children! The book is also very descriptive of some of the memories, foods, fields, etc. and it adds an emotional level to this read. I absolutely love it, and I feel very thankful for having found it!!!!
I expected In Winter's Kitchen to be more food memoir in addition to informational Midwest food history and culture discussing how to acclimate to cooking foods based on season and locale availability with a focus on winter in the Midwest. Instead, I got a book about local growers and producers and the limitations and hurdles faced by them. The connection to the Midwest winter was the popular foods on the Thanksgiving feast table as an outline for the foods discussed with a light peppering of the author's anecdotes to pull this toward personal. While the information provided was interesting and worthwhile, this was very much not what I went into this book for and am honestly quite disappointed.
First, let me say that I enjoy cooking many of Beth Dooley's recipes and love her features in the Strib. And, as a long-time CSA and co-op member, I get the importance of being aware of where our food comes from. However, I just can't get behind a book that doesn't address the economic issues of the consumer. Even a solidly middle-class customer like myself can't afford to buy only organics. Much as I would love to use Hope butter and Sunrise flour all the time, our budget simply doesn't allow for it. Also, the hybrid (ironic) nature of the book as part memoir, part expository essay, didn't work for me.
I thought this was well put together, she opens with a story about how she first came to Minne, and how she tethered her family from the east coast to her life in Minne by making thanksgiving dinner in her first year here. And then the rest of the book is organized by a food that would feature in her thanksgiving dinner - corn, sweet potatoes, cheese, wheat, butter, etc. She discusses the cultivation of the product, specific to Minnesotan farmers that she has gotten to know well. It reads like a love letter to Minnesota from an adopted Minnesotan that has done so much to shape the local sustainable food scene here, loved it.
"Diversity create a vibrant and resilient community among people just as it does in a forest's ecosystem. The person who is least like you is the one you have the most to learn from." ~136
When asked "Can local food feed the world?" I can only reply, "why do we think it should?" Its role is not to deliver the most food at the lowest cost, regardless of flavor or nutrient content. Its value cannot be measured in pounds harvested or money saved. In this system, decisions are made with an eye to the soil's fertility, human health, fair wages for workers, and the animal's welfare. Its highest consideration is the future, not the immediate impact on the bottom line. ~257
The book was informative, each chapter delving into the history and local flair of foods found on a midwestern table. I appreciated learning a bit more about farmers and businesses I have heard about (or not yet heard about) living in Minnesota, but the actual storytelling wasn't quite as rich as I was thinking it would be. The book is about local, regional food but it doesn't quite hit on the theme of "winter's kitchen", as most of what she's writing about is what grows in the summer in MN. It wasn't really until the last chapter that she tied it all together. I loved the recipes and artwork!
I felt like the writing was all over the place. One minute she would be describing the state of big food and the hidden costs to people, health and land (ok good start), the next she would be reminiscing about her own experiences preserving good food (at times came off as preachy and privileged but ok), the next she would be telling a personal story or journey that had nothing to do with the topic at hand. As far as the commentary on big ag, I didn't feel like there was anything that hasn't been said before, in fact it came off as kind of cliche. There was a lot of "this is the problem" but not much "here is the solution" other than "figure it out".
I want to give this book to everyone I know who lives in the Upper Midwest and doesn't yet understand how important and beautiful it is to pay attention to where and how our food is grown. Dooley's portrayal of our region's "slow food" economy is full of deeply infectious hope, even as it makes damningly clear the destruction that big ag and corporate farming practices wreak on the land and the people who live in it. This is a picture of profound beauty among enormous ugliness; it holds up the image of something that is and could be; and insists, after Rilke, that we must change our lives.
I'm torn between enthusiastically enjoying this book and also finding it so-so. I enjoyed the topics it broached. I also loved the stories she shared from her childhood. However, it was too disjointed for me to say it was great. To give her credit, she does acknowledge that she doesn't want to pick one genre of writing, which is the reason I found it disjointed.
The book was also successful inasmuch as it gave me deeper enthusiasm about local food, more thorough understanding of the issues surrounding contemporary agriculture, and ideas for where to get local food near me.
I really enjoyed this fascinating story about the history of many locally grown foods, specifically ones that have a large local growing population in the Midwest.
I think the ultimate takeaway with this story for me is to look closer at the foods, specifically produce and dairy, and check where they’re from. I have the income to change my shopping habits and learn where I’d like to spend locally. I’ve visited some of my local farmers markets in the past and this definitely makes me want to go back quickly!
On my recent visit to Omnivore Books (in San Francisco) I knew I wanted cooking inspiration, but I sought it in the form of memoirs rather than cookbooks. I tag team read both Home Cooking and In Winter’s Kitchen. Both Dooley and Coleen have unique voices, but both convey their love and respect for food and the importance of eating well. These two books did not disappoint. Thanks to both, I’ve renewed my long dormant home delivery of produce and I’m inspired to try out some new recipes.