This book just hit home for me - between being pregnant, being excited to cook in these cold wi ter months, and dealing with the generational trama that my grandmother's recent death has brought up, this mini-memior was a really insightful journey though processing grief and decades old wrongs. Not sure if I'd recommemd it to everyone, but for a select few people it's going to resonate.
A beautifully written, heartbreaking memoir- which while not ending exactly happily, ends with hope. Very recommended.
*By then I no longer considered her life worthless, but I respected her readiness to die. She had reached an end, I supposed. So it was fine with me.
And then she died on a Friday morning, while I was having breakfast alone in a cafe, reading the newspaper. I walked home and Jane called, her voice afraid and small. "Mum's dead," she said. And after I called my father, who had not spoken with my mother for many years, and her siblings, and a funeral director I plucked from the yellow pages, and the coroner's office to ask where my mother actually was - an ambulance and police officers had come to the home to take her away - and when her body would be available for collection by the funeral director, I sat at the table in my flat and my body began to shake. It was absolutely not fine for my mother to be dead. The feeling began at the base of my torso, to the rear, and moved up like nausea through my chest. When it hit my head, it distorted my face and contracted my throat into wails and squeezed my eyes. And it stayed there for about two hours, the waves of its storm growing taller each time, so that I had to drink glasses of water to compensate for the stuff pouring out of my eyes and nose. It left me exhausted and staring at nothing, until I began to feel I was recovering, and then it came back up form the base of my spine, again and again and again, For days. For weeks.For months.*
*I was shocked at how much life there could be in a dead person's handwriting.*
But this book seemed a bit off to me. Maybe because I'm not familiar with English cuisines. The only good part in this book is where he started to collect his mum's medical report and reminisce those bittersweet memories.
Poignant, esp. since I read this the week of Mothers' Day. McAllester presses into his painful childhood memories surrounding his mother's early death and her misdiagnosed mental illness. Lots of regret woven through this memoir. Not only his own, but connected to the growing understanding that if his mom had received a correct diagnosis and proper help, his life, their life as a family, would have looked very different.
Aromas and food bring back fond memories of my childhood and enjoyed the book a lot. The recalling of his mother's cooking, fragrances from the past and the memories of his childhood, as well as the yearning for his mother made it all worthwhile. There are times that I too catch glimpses of my late mother and have the same yearning to connect with her.
Beautifully captures the yearning the author had for his mother as he remembered her while growing up. The person she became, due to mental illness, very much changed as he grew into adulthood.
The food nostalgia was wonderful as was his early family memories in Scotland.
Some interesting passages about the authors childhood, and I did appreciate the case study in mental illness and how specialists could dismiss a severe illness as alcohol problems. Overall I was left expecting more from the actual food memoir and cooking piece
”…(I)f I told her what I was cooking for friends over the weekend, we would fall into a safe place together, one where past, present, and future were full of afternoons in the kitchen with the radio on, and with chocolate-smeared bowls in the sink, desserts cooling in the refrigerator, sauces simmering on the stove, a slowly crisping , caramelizing roast in the oven, and the house full of mingling, delicious smells.”
Memoirs are popular. I think that people like to live vicariously through others’ experiences. However, when many readers pick up memoirs they are looking for a particular kind of life. I found this book at my local library mixed up in with the cooking books. So I was expecting a book about cooking, probably with the author’s mother since that is the picture on the cover.
What I got was a fascinating read, but not exactly McAllester cooking with his mother. That it would be more was clear on the first chapter. McAllester has a complicated relationship with his mother, with cooking and with other parts of his life.
McAllester’s name was not familiar to me. He has been a war correspondent for some time, winning the Putlizer prize as well as other accolades. I don’t read a lot of books about our current battles and wars. That is my fault, not any of the excellent writers who cover these things. To read and enjoy McAllester’s memoir, all that is not important.
What was important was that as a reader I would be open to where he wanted to go. So as McAllester explored his childhood, his mother’s breakdown, Elizabeth David’s cookbooks and other aspects of his life, I went along for the ride. I had a good time.
If you enjoyed Reichl’s Tender at the Bone, this may be the book for you. If you have any interest in Elizabeth David and her writings, you may want to see what McAllester does with her recipes. Lastly, if you find loving relationships, even when they are hard fought, to be good reading, find this book.
One of the best memoirs I’ve read. As a boy of ten, Matt McAllester essentially lost his mother to a combination of sadness, alcoholism and mental illness. He had ten “good” years with her before she disintegrates. Her death at age 62 spurs him to reconnect to the vibrant, intelligent, nurturing memory of her, especially drawing on his recollections of their shared love of the best food and its “classic” preparation. Set mostly in Edinburgh with jaunts here and there, it captivates.
I love how the author strays from what I imagine is his Pulitzer Prize-winning war correspondent writing style of probing for definitives. He seems to accept that little here is understandable. It is confusing to him but he lays no blame. Yet even without explanation, the reader is swept right into the journey. The use of his father’s gorgeous, grainy black and white photos of the time contributes beautifully.
This memoir is filled with the vulnerability of both the boy and the man. Sensitive and dark, I read this in one day with the curtains drawn because it required that of me.
McAllester writes of grieving after his mother’s death and his description of the loss was very touching. Actually, I felt his grieving process really started much earlier, at about the age of ten, when his mother first began showing signs of mental illness.
The “Lessons from my Mother’s Kitchen” portion of the book was initially an exploration of getting to know who his mother was by looking through her cookbooks and preparing some of the recipes. It started off well, but that premise pretty much fizzled out by the second half of the book.
Another portion of this memoir takes us through the author and his wife’s attempts at having a child through IVF, spending significant passages devoted to that subject. He never followed the thread through to whether their last attempt was successful. He intentionally left his reader with a cliffhanger ending. For me, it works in movies, not in books.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This book is amazing. Matt McAllister, a war journalist, is coming to terms with the loss of his mother, who died a few years ago. Yet actually, as his story unfolds, he really lost her and his childhood, when he was ten years old, as his mother started a gradual descent into mental illness and alcohol abuse. His anger at her as a teenager and young man, and his gradual acceptance of her condition as an adult, unfurls in his search for the woman he remembered from his early years, and especially through her binding her family together through cooking. Matt undertakes his search through an exploration of cookery, both recipes he remembers from his childhood, and through a challenge to learn to cook as his mother did, using Elizabeth David as a role-model.
Poignant loss and raw emotion envelope memories and challenges of grieving as this cathartic tale unfolds. A book for anyone who loves cooking, their mother, or who has had to deal with grief, and mental illness.
The subtitle of this book ("lessons from my mother's kitchen") is misleading. This book is not primarily, nor mainly, nor even significantly about cooking. As the subtitle is the reason I chose the book from the library, you can imagine my disappointment.
I also didn't like the way he handled his wife's two (possibly three) failed attempts, through IVF, to have a child: he threw himself into learning about his recently deceased mother's mental illness and into cooking (which he somewhat successfully rationalized as providing fuel for the fetus) instead of comforting and supporting his wife. Or at least that's what the book implies.
I could complain about other parts of the book, but instead I will try two of the informal recipes he provided (much to my delight): Dropped Scones and Strawberry Ice Cream.
Update: The strawberry ice cream recipe is pretty good.
I wasn't sure what to expect when I started to read this book, but I was pleasantly surprised at how Matthew weaves his mother's love of cooking into getting to know and understand her after her death. His mother slowly moved from a bright and creative mother into a world of mental disorder which led to alcoholism, and ultimately her death. Away from the demons of his day-job as a field reporter in war-torn countries, the home-life of his past was also a mine-field.
This is a touching story of how he came to reconnect with his mother in her last year of life, and how he became closer to her after her death, and with the birth of his own child.
Bittersweet is a unique angle to an interesting story.
Following the death of his mother, Mr. MCallester works through his relationship with his food-loving mother whose psychiatric problems progressively worsened. He relives much of their food life together including cooking through his mother's all-time favorite cookbooks; especially Elizabeth David.
If you are the introspective type this book would be engaging for you. If not so introspective, it may be that there is not enough "action" to keep your attention.
I love memoirs. This is well written and certainly articulates the emotions one has regarding a loved one suffering from mental instabilities and/or illness. The cooking aspect is terrific.
As I was reading this I thought how wonderfully lucky I am to live in Ann Arbor and have librarians that know how to select great books for me, and the community at large.
This book was written by a war correspondent, a Pulitzer prize winning war correspondent, I believe. His mother died and in his sorrow and in an attempt to heal the hurt, he turns to the memories of his mother in the kitchen. He learns to cook and learns to come to terms with her mental illness and his relationship with her.
I feel a little misled. I thought this would be a novel about food and cooking (since I bought it at the James Beard book sale), but really its the author's out-loud coming-to-terms with his mother's mental illness and eventual death. Not so appetizing.
On the plus side, there is a good recipe for strawberry ice cream hidden in its pages.
I have a bipolar mom who cooked off and on until I left for college and now has problems remembering what goes in a simple dish. This book was very close to home except that my mother has food addictions vs a drink addiction. I would highly recommend it for lovers of food.
This book seemed to be more about memories of his mother than cooking. I do understand how cooking played a part in triggering those memories, however, after picking this out of the cooking memoir section, I expected to hear more about cooking and less about a crazy mother. Overall an okay book.
Easily read. In particular, I enjoyed the stories he told of his boyhood, then his mothers descent into madness. I didnt identify with the passion for fine cooking but I certainly understood its connection and significance.
This will forever be the book that got me through my moms death. I've read it four times. His life was harder than he deserved but his willingness to write so honestly about it was simply beautiful.
I forgot I don't really like memoirs because they tend to be about depressing/dysfunctional childhoods. This was one of those. His mom had mental illness compounded with alcoholism. Sad.