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Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise
Author of Save Me the Plums Ruth Reichl’s iconic, bestselling memoir of her time as an undercover restaurant critic for The New York Times"Expansive and funny." —Entertainment WeeklyRuth Reichl, world-renowned food critic and former editor in chief of Gourmet magazine, knows a thing or two about food. She also knows that as the most important food critic in the country, you need to be anonymous when reviewing some of the most high-profile establishments in the biggest restaurant town in the world—a charge she took very seriously, taking on the guise of a series of eccentric personalities. In Garlic and Sapphires, Reichl reveals the comic absurdity, artifice, and excellence to be found in the sumptuously appointed stages of the epicurean world and gives us—along with some of her favorite recipes and reviews—her remarkable reflections on how one’s outer appearance can influence one’s inner character, expectations, and appetites, not to mention the quality of service one receives. “[A] wonderful book, which is funny—at times laugh-out-loud funny—and smart and wise.” —Jonathan Yardley, The Washington Post
364 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 4, 2005
1484 people are currently reading
29152 people want to read
About the author
Ruth Reichl
79 books3,014 followersRuth Reichl is the New York Times bestselling author of five memoirs, the novels Delicious! and The Paris Novel, and the cookbook My Kitchen Year. She was editor in chief of Gourmet magazine, and previously served as restaurant critic for The New York Times, as well as food editor and restaurant critic for the Los Angeles Times. She has been honored with six James Beard Awards.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 5,225 reviews
February 9, 2008
Reichl served as the New York Times food critic from 1993 to 1999, and this book is about her years as "The New York Times Food Critic" -- but it's also about her struggle to evade the identity of The New York Times Food Critic (tm) and get people an honest, egalitarian review of what, exactly, they're going to get out of their meal.
I vaguely remember bits and pieces of the controversy when Reichl took over the reins, but this book really blew the whole thing open. The problems she was facing were twofold: one, she wanted to cover a wider range of food than the previous "snooty French" coverage the NYT had tended to, thus necessitating not only developing a way to consistently evaluate cross-food-ethnicity, but also a way to convince Yr Av'g Noo Yawka that these cuisines were worthy of attention -- but more importantly, two, it was impossible to evaluate what kind of dining experience a "normal" person would have in the cut-throat, status-based New York City restaurant scene.
Reichl's solution -- create alternate 'selves', complete with their own personalities and quirks, and take them out to a meal (she deliberately built her personae to not encode for the status that would guarantee her a world-class experience) -- is simple and elegant, and the book itself is an engaging interaction with the idea of national privilege and identity as it plays out on restuarant tables. Her examples are well-chosen, and she writes beautifully: clear, direct, and entertaining. She also prints recipes and reprints several of the colums that resulted from the anecdotes she relates in the book, which serve as excellent bonus material.
But where the book shines is what it makes you think about. Because as Sarah (who read it first) came across a reference to a particular dollar amount for a meal, she turned to me, read that bit out loud, and said, "Is there something wrong with me that I don't think this is particularly exorbitant for a meal like that?" And I answered no -- because it didn't strike me as exorbitant either; food is one of the pleasures of life, dammit. (My operating assumption is that life is too short to put up with bad food, bad friends, a lousy job, or uncomfortable clothing.) And after it was my turn for the book, I put it down upon completion, and I started to think about Reichl's main thesis: that money and status are two entirely different things, and how the differing levels of privilege we all carry influence and shape us.
It's something I'm going to keep thinking about for a long time, particularly the next time we sit down to eat out -- whether it be at a hole-in-the-wall family-owned joint, a Major National Chain (tm), or a Dining Experience (tm) -- because Reichl has a lot of very smart, savvy, and interesting things to say, reading between the lines (and sometimes more overt than that) about American national identity, relationship to food, and concepts of service, status, and privilege. This is a no-holds-barred look at the best and the worst of us, and Reichl has the writing chops to pull it off.
I vaguely remember bits and pieces of the controversy when Reichl took over the reins, but this book really blew the whole thing open. The problems she was facing were twofold: one, she wanted to cover a wider range of food than the previous "snooty French" coverage the NYT had tended to, thus necessitating not only developing a way to consistently evaluate cross-food-ethnicity, but also a way to convince Yr Av'g Noo Yawka that these cuisines were worthy of attention -- but more importantly, two, it was impossible to evaluate what kind of dining experience a "normal" person would have in the cut-throat, status-based New York City restaurant scene.
Reichl's solution -- create alternate 'selves', complete with their own personalities and quirks, and take them out to a meal (she deliberately built her personae to not encode for the status that would guarantee her a world-class experience) -- is simple and elegant, and the book itself is an engaging interaction with the idea of national privilege and identity as it plays out on restuarant tables. Her examples are well-chosen, and she writes beautifully: clear, direct, and entertaining. She also prints recipes and reprints several of the colums that resulted from the anecdotes she relates in the book, which serve as excellent bonus material.
But where the book shines is what it makes you think about. Because as Sarah (who read it first) came across a reference to a particular dollar amount for a meal, she turned to me, read that bit out loud, and said, "Is there something wrong with me that I don't think this is particularly exorbitant for a meal like that?" And I answered no -- because it didn't strike me as exorbitant either; food is one of the pleasures of life, dammit. (My operating assumption is that life is too short to put up with bad food, bad friends, a lousy job, or uncomfortable clothing.) And after it was my turn for the book, I put it down upon completion, and I started to think about Reichl's main thesis: that money and status are two entirely different things, and how the differing levels of privilege we all carry influence and shape us.
It's something I'm going to keep thinking about for a long time, particularly the next time we sit down to eat out -- whether it be at a hole-in-the-wall family-owned joint, a Major National Chain (tm), or a Dining Experience (tm) -- because Reichl has a lot of very smart, savvy, and interesting things to say, reading between the lines (and sometimes more overt than that) about American national identity, relationship to food, and concepts of service, status, and privilege. This is a no-holds-barred look at the best and the worst of us, and Reichl has the writing chops to pull it off.
October 20, 2012
After reading Tender at the Bone, I was looking forward to more of Ruth Reichl. Garlic and Sapphires was not only a disappointment, it was as if a completely different person had written it. It is ironic that in a book about disguises, Reichl herself was unrecognizable. Far from the funny, sensitive, and sincere person she was in her first book, Reichl had transformed herself into a self-absorbed snob loaded with enough hypocrisy to sink a ship.
This book covers Reichl's stint as the New York Times chief restaurant critic. Although she accepts the position, she has reservations about the elitist implications of the job, and vows to write for the masses--those million readers who can't afford to spend $100 for a meal at a four-star French restaurant. Part of her mission is to expose the poor treatment many of these restaurants heap on the "common man." But in order to accomplish this lofty goal, Reichl must eat in disguise. For if she is recognized as New York's premier restaurant critic, she'll be treated like royalty. (Although this obviously has no bearing on the quality of the food, it has a great deal of bearing on the quality of the experience. Personally, I eat for the food.)
The idea is cute, and for the first few chapters it was fun. But Reichl shows her true colors right from the start when she heaps disdain on a bearded ignoramus (wearing Birkenstocks...unforgivable!) for having the audacity to dip his sushi rice-side down, thereby "ruining" the "clear transparent flavor," the "taut crispness," and the clam that was "almost baroque in its sensuality." (I have yet to meet a sensual or almost baroque clam, but I'll take Reichl's word for it.) Reichl then reminisces about her trip to Japan, in which she is first exposed to the proper way to eat Japanese food. (I'm pretty sure the guy in Birkenstocks could not afford to go to Japan for eating lessons.) In her other encounters with diners at top-notch restaurants Reichl indulges in so much blatant one-up-manship that you simply can't sympathize with her concern for the "simple folk" no matter how much she tries to dress like them. The verbal food fights with the poor guy she picks up in a bar as the vampish Chloe (what's up with THAT??), and with the self-avowed "food warrior" were downright churlish. After proclaiming that there is no right way to eat food, Reichl clearly demonstrates that it's her way or the highway. Even Reichl's portrayals of other diners, who are merely innocent bystanders, are dreadfully stereotyped, sometimes to the point of cruelty. (She assumes that a "loud, brassy blonde," who is disturbing her expensive meal, is a prostitute. Apparently, sitting next to the "masses" isn't nearly as much fun as pretending to write for them.)
Even Reichl's disguises lacked credibility. Reichl's claims that she had an instant personality transformation with each new disguise are simply unbelievable. She BECOMES the 'little people,' taking on their imagined attributes, their voices, their very lives. She comes up with histories for each of the women she invents, and, with just a wig and some makeup, is so amazingly convincing that she can even fool her husband! Either Reichl is schizophrenic, or she takes method acting entirely too seriously. She certainly takes herself too seriously.
If the book had been well written I could have forgiven the snobbery, but, with the exception of one chapter, "The Missionary of the Delicious," in which Reichl was somehow able to get a grip on herself, purple prose abounded. (As her editor I would have crossed out half of her adjectives.) The inclusion of reprints of her published reviews was redundant, and the recipes were mediocre. (There was no clue in these recipes that Reichl was an expert in the kitchen. But, hey, she was writing for the "huddled masses yearning to eat free." What do we know? We can't even dip sushi right.)
If Reichl hadn't been so intent on wallowing in her ego, this book might have had possibilities. She loves food, and she has dined in some truly fabulous restaurants. The fact that most of us can't afford them is irrelevant. She had a duty to go to these marvelous places, enjoy herself to the max, and then take the rest of us with her.
This book covers Reichl's stint as the New York Times chief restaurant critic. Although she accepts the position, she has reservations about the elitist implications of the job, and vows to write for the masses--those million readers who can't afford to spend $100 for a meal at a four-star French restaurant. Part of her mission is to expose the poor treatment many of these restaurants heap on the "common man." But in order to accomplish this lofty goal, Reichl must eat in disguise. For if she is recognized as New York's premier restaurant critic, she'll be treated like royalty. (Although this obviously has no bearing on the quality of the food, it has a great deal of bearing on the quality of the experience. Personally, I eat for the food.)
The idea is cute, and for the first few chapters it was fun. But Reichl shows her true colors right from the start when she heaps disdain on a bearded ignoramus (wearing Birkenstocks...unforgivable!) for having the audacity to dip his sushi rice-side down, thereby "ruining" the "clear transparent flavor," the "taut crispness," and the clam that was "almost baroque in its sensuality." (I have yet to meet a sensual or almost baroque clam, but I'll take Reichl's word for it.) Reichl then reminisces about her trip to Japan, in which she is first exposed to the proper way to eat Japanese food. (I'm pretty sure the guy in Birkenstocks could not afford to go to Japan for eating lessons.) In her other encounters with diners at top-notch restaurants Reichl indulges in so much blatant one-up-manship that you simply can't sympathize with her concern for the "simple folk" no matter how much she tries to dress like them. The verbal food fights with the poor guy she picks up in a bar as the vampish Chloe (what's up with THAT??), and with the self-avowed "food warrior" were downright churlish. After proclaiming that there is no right way to eat food, Reichl clearly demonstrates that it's her way or the highway. Even Reichl's portrayals of other diners, who are merely innocent bystanders, are dreadfully stereotyped, sometimes to the point of cruelty. (She assumes that a "loud, brassy blonde," who is disturbing her expensive meal, is a prostitute. Apparently, sitting next to the "masses" isn't nearly as much fun as pretending to write for them.)
Even Reichl's disguises lacked credibility. Reichl's claims that she had an instant personality transformation with each new disguise are simply unbelievable. She BECOMES the 'little people,' taking on their imagined attributes, their voices, their very lives. She comes up with histories for each of the women she invents, and, with just a wig and some makeup, is so amazingly convincing that she can even fool her husband! Either Reichl is schizophrenic, or she takes method acting entirely too seriously. She certainly takes herself too seriously.
If the book had been well written I could have forgiven the snobbery, but, with the exception of one chapter, "The Missionary of the Delicious," in which Reichl was somehow able to get a grip on herself, purple prose abounded. (As her editor I would have crossed out half of her adjectives.) The inclusion of reprints of her published reviews was redundant, and the recipes were mediocre. (There was no clue in these recipes that Reichl was an expert in the kitchen. But, hey, she was writing for the "huddled masses yearning to eat free." What do we know? We can't even dip sushi right.)
If Reichl hadn't been so intent on wallowing in her ego, this book might have had possibilities. She loves food, and she has dined in some truly fabulous restaurants. The fact that most of us can't afford them is irrelevant. She had a duty to go to these marvelous places, enjoy herself to the max, and then take the rest of us with her.
June 27, 2015
Some books languish on my TBR list forever it seems. It's really pleasing to pick up one of these and wonder why it took me so long to read. Garlic and Sapphires: The Secrete Life of A Critic In Disguise was published in 2005. It might have been a bit more relevant at that time but it's message about the love of good food, told with insight and humor is timeless.
I thoroughly enjoyed this peek into the life of a food critic. I had never read any of Reichl's columns when she was editor at The New York Times but was fascinated by this memoir about her time there. I never thought about what it must take to try to eat a meal that you will rate honestly if the restaurant staff is on the lookout for you. Reichl comes up with new identities, clothing, make-up, wigs which allow her to blend as just a diner on her forays to some of the best and other times, little known restaurants in New York.
I may never actually get to dine at any of the places Reichl writes about or rates. Frankly even if I could some would never make my list after reading about her treatment when she visits in costume. Reichl's expertise makes me savor the smells, the delight in the first bite, the eloquence in presentation, the impeccable service of a good meal.
The layout of the book worked well for me. Narrative, Review, Recipe. I enjoyed learning a bit about Reichl's background, her family, her friends, and the women she becomes to remain anonymous. The recipes range from simple like Matzo Brei to a full fledged roast leg of lamb dinner. I love how her son, Nicky, goes with the flow, always recognizing his mom through the outrageous get-ups she comes up with. Reicihl also gains insight from these women she becomes.
If I were participating in a book discussion. Chapter 7 would lead me to query others. Heading home from an elaborate meal at La cote Basque, encounters a hungry homeless man on the subway. He is begging for food, anything, even the crumbs left in the bottom of a chip bag. Reichl, as Betty, hands the man her doggie bag. She expects that he will tear into it but he goes to the end of the car, spreads his scarf on his lap like a napkin and proceeds to remove the wrapping, appreciating his windfall. "Roasted Duckling!" he croaked. "An then, very delicately, he picked the leg up in his fingers and ate it slowly, savoring every morsel." Having just watched a segment of Extreme Cheapskates where a man moves through a restaurant asking diners if he can have their leftover food and another dumpster dives for food. Both these left me bit grossed out. I wonder why the homeless man's story touches me and the cheapskate makes me a bit ill.
Reichl has written other memoirs, always with a touch of food, so much of her life. Hopefully some of these will work their way up on my list.
I thoroughly enjoyed this peek into the life of a food critic. I had never read any of Reichl's columns when she was editor at The New York Times but was fascinated by this memoir about her time there. I never thought about what it must take to try to eat a meal that you will rate honestly if the restaurant staff is on the lookout for you. Reichl comes up with new identities, clothing, make-up, wigs which allow her to blend as just a diner on her forays to some of the best and other times, little known restaurants in New York.
I may never actually get to dine at any of the places Reichl writes about or rates. Frankly even if I could some would never make my list after reading about her treatment when she visits in costume. Reichl's expertise makes me savor the smells, the delight in the first bite, the eloquence in presentation, the impeccable service of a good meal.
The layout of the book worked well for me. Narrative, Review, Recipe. I enjoyed learning a bit about Reichl's background, her family, her friends, and the women she becomes to remain anonymous. The recipes range from simple like Matzo Brei to a full fledged roast leg of lamb dinner. I love how her son, Nicky, goes with the flow, always recognizing his mom through the outrageous get-ups she comes up with. Reicihl also gains insight from these women she becomes.
If I were participating in a book discussion. Chapter 7 would lead me to query others. Heading home from an elaborate meal at La cote Basque, encounters a hungry homeless man on the subway. He is begging for food, anything, even the crumbs left in the bottom of a chip bag. Reichl, as Betty, hands the man her doggie bag. She expects that he will tear into it but he goes to the end of the car, spreads his scarf on his lap like a napkin and proceeds to remove the wrapping, appreciating his windfall. "Roasted Duckling!" he croaked. "An then, very delicately, he picked the leg up in his fingers and ate it slowly, savoring every morsel." Having just watched a segment of Extreme Cheapskates where a man moves through a restaurant asking diners if he can have their leftover food and another dumpster dives for food. Both these left me bit grossed out. I wonder why the homeless man's story touches me and the cheapskate makes me a bit ill.
Reichl has written other memoirs, always with a touch of food, so much of her life. Hopefully some of these will work their way up on my list.
March 18, 2014
A bit more sapphire than garlic.
Ruth Reichl's book about her time as the New York Times food critic is mainly focused on her need to don disguises in order not to be recognized in the restaurants she was reviewing and how changing her appearance opened her eyes to how people are treated due to their physical appearance and projected personality. Therefore, foodies will find less about food in Garlic and Sapphires and more about fashion.
I was hoping for more about the food. I guess I neglected to read the book's subtitle, The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise. I guess I've gone too far in my efforts not to judge a book by its cover. Reading and believing what the title says is kind of important.
Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy reading about Reichl's ridiculous hoop-jumping with wigs, make-up, clothing and personas in her successful efforts to fool the waitstaff of NY's finest eateries, even if her insights were nothing earth-shattering. I mean, most people know by now that bossy, demanding people get what they want while the meager among us get the scraps, if anything. But just the same, Reichl's stories and storytelling were quite entertaining, I also voyeuristically enjoyed her descriptions of fancy NY restaurants, and there was just enough meat on dining to whet my appetite (<--wow, that was cheesy).
Ruth Reichl's book about her time as the New York Times food critic is mainly focused on her need to don disguises in order not to be recognized in the restaurants she was reviewing and how changing her appearance opened her eyes to how people are treated due to their physical appearance and projected personality. Therefore, foodies will find less about food in Garlic and Sapphires and more about fashion.
I was hoping for more about the food. I guess I neglected to read the book's subtitle, The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise. I guess I've gone too far in my efforts not to judge a book by its cover. Reading and believing what the title says is kind of important.
Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy reading about Reichl's ridiculous hoop-jumping with wigs, make-up, clothing and personas in her successful efforts to fool the waitstaff of NY's finest eateries, even if her insights were nothing earth-shattering. I mean, most people know by now that bossy, demanding people get what they want while the meager among us get the scraps, if anything. But just the same, Reichl's stories and storytelling were quite entertaining, I also voyeuristically enjoyed her descriptions of fancy NY restaurants, and there was just enough meat on dining to whet my appetite (<--wow, that was cheesy).
November 5, 2023
A couple of things haven't aged well in this memoir, but boy, was this fun! It's like Mrs. Doubtfire meets the food world since Reichl had to wear disguises into restaurants in order to get the average customer's experience.
It gets a little repetitive, hearing Reichl explain events in an eatery, only for her to follow that up with the review she wrote which says nearly the same thing, just in different words, but I wanted a romp of a memoir to blow through in one day and she provided!
It gets a little repetitive, hearing Reichl explain events in an eatery, only for her to follow that up with the review she wrote which says nearly the same thing, just in different words, but I wanted a romp of a memoir to blow through in one day and she provided!
July 21, 2019
Prior to reading Garlic and Sapphires, I wouldn't have pegged myself as a fan of food writing. I love to eat and enjoy talking about food, but I just wasn't sure I wanted to read about other people eating. Well, I was wrong. When I went to pick up this book from the library, my librarian told me that it's one of her all-time favorites, and that she's constantly recommending it to patrons. I started reading as soon as I got home from the library that day, and I thoroughly enjoyed the reading experience. Ruth Reichl tastes food in a way that is so beyond my own eating experiences. She revels in every flavor and does a wonderful job describing the complexity of the many dishes she sampled during her tenure as restaurant critic for the New York Times. I think the timing of picking this up was perfect for me, having just returned from a trip to France, where we had a lot of similar dining experiences to what Reichl describes in this book, with course after decadent course and sommeliers doling out advice for proper wine pairings. It made me reflect on those experiences in a different way. Beyond the food descriptions though, I found this book mostly fascinating because it's a job that is so unlike mine (I'm an elementary teacher), and it felt like I was reading about an entirely different world. I wouldn't hesitate to pick up another book by Reichl in the future, and I'd recommend this for anyone who is looking to pick up a light non-fiction title.
February 24, 2019
This is a fun look at the life of a New York Times food critic.
When Ruth Reichl started the Times job in 1993, she was warned that a lot of restaurant owners in the city had already posted her picture, warning employees to be on the lookout for her. Ruth decided to get help from a theater friend to come up with various disguises so she could dine anonymously. "Garlic and Sapphires" is an enjoyable look at her years writing for the New York Times and of some of her memorable dining experiences during that time.
This was the second Reichl book I've read — I had previously enjoyed "My Kitchen Year" — and I was tempted to pick up this earlier work about her food critic years because Reichl will be visiting my town later this spring to promote her new book, and I wanted to read more of her oeuvre before then.
I listened to "Garlic and Sapphires" on audio, and it was a pleasant narration by Bernadette Dunne. Recommended for foodies.
When Ruth Reichl started the Times job in 1993, she was warned that a lot of restaurant owners in the city had already posted her picture, warning employees to be on the lookout for her. Ruth decided to get help from a theater friend to come up with various disguises so she could dine anonymously. "Garlic and Sapphires" is an enjoyable look at her years writing for the New York Times and of some of her memorable dining experiences during that time.
This was the second Reichl book I've read — I had previously enjoyed "My Kitchen Year" — and I was tempted to pick up this earlier work about her food critic years because Reichl will be visiting my town later this spring to promote her new book, and I wanted to read more of her oeuvre before then.
I listened to "Garlic and Sapphires" on audio, and it was a pleasant narration by Bernadette Dunne. Recommended for foodies.
April 29, 2022
Listen, I always appreciate a good critic, even though most of my meals come out of a box.
July 25, 2011
Ruth Reichl should be required reading for anyone writing a memoir. She manages to shape plot and theme within her own life story. I think part of the trick is that she carves her life into bite-sized arcs, one journey per book. It helps that she is witty, observant, and one hell of a food writer.
This one is the story of her years at the New York Times, which happen to be the years after we no longer lived in the city but kept our subscription to the Times. Reichl's reviews were great for that globally-read paper; her descriptions of restaurants and their food were evocative enough that it didn't matter if you knew you would never set foot in the place.
Reichl quickly discovered that she needed disguises in order to visit the restaurants she was reviewing, since the royal treatment she got when she appeared as herself (literally -- she was once seated while the King of Spain waited at the bar) was clearly not the experience of the everyday diner. Many of the chapters are named after specific disguises, each of which took on a personality of its own.
I've also read the memoir of Frank Bruni, the other recent Times master-of-disguise. That one was entertaining but not quite satisfying, and I couldn't put my finger on what it was missing. This book has everything that one didn't, maybe because Reichl threw herself into her self-made characters with such commitment. Or maybe because Reichl is savvy enough to include her own reviews at the close of each chapter, so that the reader sees the finished product as well as the behind the scenes. Or maybe because of the recipes interspersed between the chapters, which show the love of food behind everything else she does.
This one is the story of her years at the New York Times, which happen to be the years after we no longer lived in the city but kept our subscription to the Times. Reichl's reviews were great for that globally-read paper; her descriptions of restaurants and their food were evocative enough that it didn't matter if you knew you would never set foot in the place.
Reichl quickly discovered that she needed disguises in order to visit the restaurants she was reviewing, since the royal treatment she got when she appeared as herself (literally -- she was once seated while the King of Spain waited at the bar) was clearly not the experience of the everyday diner. Many of the chapters are named after specific disguises, each of which took on a personality of its own.
I've also read the memoir of Frank Bruni, the other recent Times master-of-disguise. That one was entertaining but not quite satisfying, and I couldn't put my finger on what it was missing. This book has everything that one didn't, maybe because Reichl threw herself into her self-made characters with such commitment. Or maybe because Reichl is savvy enough to include her own reviews at the close of each chapter, so that the reader sees the finished product as well as the behind the scenes. Or maybe because of the recipes interspersed between the chapters, which show the love of food behind everything else she does.
July 23, 2020
This was a delicious surprise!!
June 4, 2019
[3.4 stars] I enjoyed this book about Reichl's experience as a food critic for the New York Times. I particularly liked reading about the transformative process she went through to "become" various characters when she visited restaurants. This is not a memoir - Reichl sticks to writing about restaurants. After the half way point it does become repetitious. Too much rich food.
December 1, 2019
This is really about 3.5 stars.
I don't like seafood and I don't eat meat, but I love food enough that I hung on every food description Reichl gave, even if it was something I wouldn't eat now (I grew up a meat eater). My automatic inclination was to really like the book, since I love good food and so does the author.
It warmed my heart that she disguised herself and saw that many of those in the restaurant business gave far lesser service to those who by their appearance do not seem wealthy or important, and the worst service to those who were women past the flush of youth.
I loved her inclusion of her young son, with his enthusiasm, his own tastes, and his comments.
This is the first book of Reichl's that I've read, and it won't be the last.
I don't like seafood and I don't eat meat, but I love food enough that I hung on every food description Reichl gave, even if it was something I wouldn't eat now (I grew up a meat eater). My automatic inclination was to really like the book, since I love good food and so does the author.
It warmed my heart that she disguised herself and saw that many of those in the restaurant business gave far lesser service to those who by their appearance do not seem wealthy or important, and the worst service to those who were women past the flush of youth.
I loved her inclusion of her young son, with his enthusiasm, his own tastes, and his comments.
This is the first book of Reichl's that I've read, and it won't be the last.
October 16, 2012
A couple of impressive things about this book:
1) It reads like a novel. I personally find it absurd when people try to make sense of their lives by fitting the totally random and haphazard things that befall us into some kind of narrative arc, but it makes for more compelling reading than an honest recounting, and not many people can do it as well as Reichl. From being ID'd on the plane to her first disguise to her inevitable subduction into her own duplicity and her epiphanic exit, it all seems movie-ready. Whether it's a miraculously cohesive history or an expert work of selective memory, it's solid craftsmanship.
2) The idea that eating at a restaurant is a kind of performance. Reichl tries to make the point that her costumes are a more explicit form of what we all do at fine restaurants anyway, which is to play the part of a diner, perhaps of a connoisseur, or at least of someone who expects table service. I don't feel this way myself but... if I imagine dressing up and meeting some people to eat at a restaurant where there was only one table, I think that would be very, very weird, so perhaps I do care about the audience, or perhaps I care that spoiling oneself in this fashion is publicly sanctioned. I wish Reichl had done more to investigate the flip side, when we obviously don't fit in. How should we behave, and how should the restaurant respond when, say, we don't know how to pronounce "chablis," or when we're the only ones in a BBQ place without a southern accent?
3) The simple and mellifluous prose. There's no razzle dazzle, but it kept me reading. Her reviews (some of which she includes) are equally lacking in turns of phrase that turn your head or the kinds of monumental face-slapping put-downs that have you crying OHNOYOUDI'N'T and that you secretly hope for in reviews, but they are relaxed, straightforward, and seemingly honest. That's not always an easy tone for writers to take, particularly critics.
Overall, it robbed me of sleep and often left me hungry, which is about all one can ask of food writing. One major thing that was lacking was any photo documentation of Reichl's costumes! I've only found a few pics on the web, which makes me sad.
1) It reads like a novel. I personally find it absurd when people try to make sense of their lives by fitting the totally random and haphazard things that befall us into some kind of narrative arc, but it makes for more compelling reading than an honest recounting, and not many people can do it as well as Reichl. From being ID'd on the plane to her first disguise to her inevitable subduction into her own duplicity and her epiphanic exit, it all seems movie-ready. Whether it's a miraculously cohesive history or an expert work of selective memory, it's solid craftsmanship.
2) The idea that eating at a restaurant is a kind of performance. Reichl tries to make the point that her costumes are a more explicit form of what we all do at fine restaurants anyway, which is to play the part of a diner, perhaps of a connoisseur, or at least of someone who expects table service. I don't feel this way myself but... if I imagine dressing up and meeting some people to eat at a restaurant where there was only one table, I think that would be very, very weird, so perhaps I do care about the audience, or perhaps I care that spoiling oneself in this fashion is publicly sanctioned. I wish Reichl had done more to investigate the flip side, when we obviously don't fit in. How should we behave, and how should the restaurant respond when, say, we don't know how to pronounce "chablis," or when we're the only ones in a BBQ place without a southern accent?
3) The simple and mellifluous prose. There's no razzle dazzle, but it kept me reading. Her reviews (some of which she includes) are equally lacking in turns of phrase that turn your head or the kinds of monumental face-slapping put-downs that have you crying OHNOYOUDI'N'T and that you secretly hope for in reviews, but they are relaxed, straightforward, and seemingly honest. That's not always an easy tone for writers to take, particularly critics.
Overall, it robbed me of sleep and often left me hungry, which is about all one can ask of food writing. One major thing that was lacking was any photo documentation of Reichl's costumes! I've only found a few pics on the web, which makes me sad.
August 20, 2018
Warning: Reading this book will make you hungry and give you weird cravings for foie gras and asparagus and maybe caviar. She just makes it sound so good.
This is an interesting and engaging look at one woman's experience as a food critic for the New York Times. She talks about the food she ate, disguises she used, and lessons she learned along the way. I found it funny, charming, and thought-provoking.
I would go 5-stars except that it has taken me 3 tries to get through this one. My first reaction to her writing style was that it was a tad...off, but I really think it is just her distinct style. It will get in your head.
Now excuse me as I return to my cold frozen pizza and dream of brussels sprouts and perfect steak.
This is an interesting and engaging look at one woman's experience as a food critic for the New York Times. She talks about the food she ate, disguises she used, and lessons she learned along the way. I found it funny, charming, and thought-provoking.
I would go 5-stars except that it has taken me 3 tries to get through this one. My first reaction to her writing style was that it was a tad...off, but I really think it is just her distinct style. It will get in your head.
Now excuse me as I return to my cold frozen pizza and dream of brussels sprouts and perfect steak.
June 13, 2022
Ruth Reichl is back, and this time she's the new restaurant critic for the New York Times. Although the Times is famous for its all-business-no-play reputation, leave it to Ruthie to take her job to the next level...and have fun doing it!
Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise chronicles Reichl's ten year stint with the Times, and her effort to bring good food to the masses. In order to do that, she decides to create alter egos a la Mrs. Doubtfire, to avoid red carpet treatment that would unduly influence her reviews. I like the way Ruth thinks, and it's evident in the layout of her book. Each chapter is dedicated to a character/disguise, followed by her trips to the restaurant in question, and finally the review that was published, along with it's rating. Some chapters even include Ruth's favorite recipes that tie into her life outside of work.
As Ruth soon discovers, being the NYT restaurant critic comes with a lot of perks...and power! Will she remain the down-to-earth culinary Robin Hood she started out as? Or will her position turn her into a much feared food snob? Quoting T.S. Eliot, her husband warns, "Garlic and sapphires in the mud." What a fitting title for this chapter in Reichl's life.
If you love reading about the art of food, you will thoroughly enjoy this book. She is extremely gifted at describing dishes, textures, aromas, and linking them to things you can relate to, even if you've never tried them before. For example, I always thought I was somewhat knowledable about sushi. Apparently not! Authentic sushi and sashimi employs the art of umami—a perfect taste for a perfect moment, and that incorporates the four basic tastes (sweet, salty, sour, bitter) along with a savory taste. A skilled Itamae chooses fresh, succulent fish, and is as focused on taste and texture, as in presentation. It's also super expensive, ha ha! At any rate, this makes the second book that I've read by this author, and she is now an official favorite. After finishing her book, I cooked up the dish below for a BBQ over the weekend. Needless to say, it was a hit, just like she promised it'd be!
Ruthie's Scalloped Potatoes
Ingredients
1 clove garlic, cut in half
1 Tbsp unsalted butter
2 cups milk
3 cups heavy cream
Salt and Pepper
4 pounds baking potatoes, peeled
Preheat the oven to 325F
Rub a roasting pan with the garlic, and then coat thickly with the butter.
Combine the milk and cream in a saucepan, and heat until just bout to boil Season with salt and pepper, and remove from the heat.
Cut the potatoes into 1/4 inch thick rounds and arrange them in layers in the pan. Pour the cream mixture over the potatoes (it should come just to the top but not cover them). Bake uncovered, pressing the potatoes into the milk every 30 minutes or so, for an hour and a half.
Remove the pan from the oven when the potatoes are golden and allow to sit for 10 to 20 minutes before serving.
Garlic and Sapphires: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise chronicles Reichl's ten year stint with the Times, and her effort to bring good food to the masses. In order to do that, she decides to create alter egos a la Mrs. Doubtfire, to avoid red carpet treatment that would unduly influence her reviews. I like the way Ruth thinks, and it's evident in the layout of her book. Each chapter is dedicated to a character/disguise, followed by her trips to the restaurant in question, and finally the review that was published, along with it's rating. Some chapters even include Ruth's favorite recipes that tie into her life outside of work.
As Ruth soon discovers, being the NYT restaurant critic comes with a lot of perks...and power! Will she remain the down-to-earth culinary Robin Hood she started out as? Or will her position turn her into a much feared food snob? Quoting T.S. Eliot, her husband warns, "Garlic and sapphires in the mud." What a fitting title for this chapter in Reichl's life.
If you love reading about the art of food, you will thoroughly enjoy this book. She is extremely gifted at describing dishes, textures, aromas, and linking them to things you can relate to, even if you've never tried them before. For example, I always thought I was somewhat knowledable about sushi. Apparently not! Authentic sushi and sashimi employs the art of umami—a perfect taste for a perfect moment, and that incorporates the four basic tastes (sweet, salty, sour, bitter) along with a savory taste. A skilled Itamae chooses fresh, succulent fish, and is as focused on taste and texture, as in presentation. It's also super expensive, ha ha! At any rate, this makes the second book that I've read by this author, and she is now an official favorite. After finishing her book, I cooked up the dish below for a BBQ over the weekend. Needless to say, it was a hit, just like she promised it'd be!
Ruthie's Scalloped Potatoes
Ingredients
1 clove garlic, cut in half
1 Tbsp unsalted butter
2 cups milk
3 cups heavy cream
Salt and Pepper
4 pounds baking potatoes, peeled
Preheat the oven to 325F
Rub a roasting pan with the garlic, and then coat thickly with the butter.
Combine the milk and cream in a saucepan, and heat until just bout to boil Season with salt and pepper, and remove from the heat.
Cut the potatoes into 1/4 inch thick rounds and arrange them in layers in the pan. Pour the cream mixture over the potatoes (it should come just to the top but not cover them). Bake uncovered, pressing the potatoes into the milk every 30 minutes or so, for an hour and a half.
Remove the pan from the oven when the potatoes are golden and allow to sit for 10 to 20 minutes before serving.
December 12, 2019
Garlic and sapphires in the mud
Clot the bedded axle-tree.
The trilling wire in the blood
Sings below inveterate scars
Appeasing long forgotten wars.
This is part of a poem from T.S. Eliot and I'm not real sure why it's in here. At one meal Ruth is having with a couple who "bought" her at a charity auction, her husband is mad at her listing all the famous restaurants she's been and the famous chefs she knows as she competes with the "food warrior" who won the meal with her. Her husband says, "you love to eat, you love to write...and what happens around the table when a great meal is served. Nothing that went on last night had anything to do with that."
Well, I thought it was a great book (with a great title). I'm still intimidated by wine lists and restaurants that are over $100 per meal (and in the DC area, that's most of them. Some now charge $350 tasting menus and $25 if you book a table and don't show.) As I read her history, I thought too bad more people don't have a guide when eating sushi or other unfamiliar foods the first time to point out the finer points. That's the main difference between a critic and me...I don't know half the flavors I'm eating.
I really liked the sections where good and bad service were highlighted at those classy restaurants. I'm just now able to ask to change a table and I know I spent decades as the younger couple in one restaurant who knew they were being "cheated" (by bad service and food) but didn't know why.
I'm impressed at the disguises she used...again, that's a whole 'nother world from what I'm used to. There are restaurants I've eaten at for years and I can't say I've recognized a waiter/ess more than once or twice...and they're always gone after a year or two.
Clot the bedded axle-tree.
The trilling wire in the blood
Sings below inveterate scars
Appeasing long forgotten wars.
This is part of a poem from T.S. Eliot and I'm not real sure why it's in here. At one meal Ruth is having with a couple who "bought" her at a charity auction, her husband is mad at her listing all the famous restaurants she's been and the famous chefs she knows as she competes with the "food warrior" who won the meal with her. Her husband says, "you love to eat, you love to write...and what happens around the table when a great meal is served. Nothing that went on last night had anything to do with that."
Well, I thought it was a great book (with a great title). I'm still intimidated by wine lists and restaurants that are over $100 per meal (and in the DC area, that's most of them. Some now charge $350 tasting menus and $25 if you book a table and don't show.) As I read her history, I thought too bad more people don't have a guide when eating sushi or other unfamiliar foods the first time to point out the finer points. That's the main difference between a critic and me...I don't know half the flavors I'm eating.
I really liked the sections where good and bad service were highlighted at those classy restaurants. I'm just now able to ask to change a table and I know I spent decades as the younger couple in one restaurant who knew they were being "cheated" (by bad service and food) but didn't know why.
I'm impressed at the disguises she used...again, that's a whole 'nother world from what I'm used to. There are restaurants I've eaten at for years and I can't say I've recognized a waiter/ess more than once or twice...and they're always gone after a year or two.
August 30, 2007
I'd never read her Times reviews, so this was my first time experiencing any of her writing. I looked forward to my subway rides while I was reading this, and I found myself almost blushing while reading some of her more Porn-ish reviews of food. I loved every bit of the food critic/ dressing up in disguise/ new york times culture stuff, but could have done without much of the personal crap about discovering herself through her characters and what a good mom she is. I'm sure she is a good mom, it's just a very short book, and I would have liked to hear more about the other stuff.
July 23, 2008
My favorite of Ruth Reichl's food memoirs. In this one she takes the job as restaurant critic for the New York Times. To avoid being recognized she creates disguises to use when she dines out. It is interesting to hear how people react to her as an old homely looking lady and then as herself when she visits the same restaurant again. I loved it and hope that she writes a new book in the future.
November 16, 2015
Audio Book performed by Bernadette Dunne
Subtitle: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise
Well, that’s a pretty good synopsis of this memoir of Reichl’s tenure as the restaurant critic for The New York Times in the 1990s.
I loved her stories of the various restaurants, from tiny noodle shops to elegant restaurants, where even the King of Spain is kept waiting at the bar. What I really appreciated about the book, however, was the “secret life” part – her own growth as a person. As Reichl tried on various disguises she found that she was also revealing different personalities – timid or demanding, happy or dour, compassionate or selfish. She learned much about herself, what she liked and what she didn’t like. And she was fearless in revealing these various facets of herself to the reader.
Her writing really shines, not surprisingly, when she is describing food. I am in awe of her palate, her ability to tease out and identify the subtle flavorings in a complex dish:
(Describing the risotto) It tasted as if a chef had stood at the stove, stirring diligently as he coaxed each grain of rice into soaking up stock. As a finale he had strewn plump little morsels of lobster through the rice, giving it the taste of the ocean.
(Gougeres) And then I didn’t say anything else because I had taken a bite of one of the little puffs and I was concentrating on the way they simply evaporated into hot, cheesy air when my mouth closed over them.
(Quenelles de brochet) Very few restaurants still make these ethereal dumplings, a marriage of air and ocean, and even fewer do them right. … I take a bite and the softness surrounds my mouth with the taste of lobster, of fish, of butter and then it just dissolves, disappears, leaving nothing but the memory in my mouth. And I take another bite, and another, and suddenly I’m floating on the flavor, and the world has vanished.
(Venison) Surrounded by chestnuts, apples, a fruity puree of squash, the meat is so delicious that I find myself eating as if it is the first course. When I look down, I realize that I have eaten everything, even the single aromatic grape that decorated the plate.
A delicious memoir, and I devoured every word. I think I’ll make lamb for dinner tonight….
Bernadette Dunne does a marvelous job performing the audio version of this book. She has reasonably good skill as a voice artist to give the various characters unique and believable voices, though her 4-year-old Nicky sound like an adult imitating a little boy. Her pacing is good, and she even makes the recipes sound interesting.
Subtitle: The Secret Life of a Critic in Disguise
Well, that’s a pretty good synopsis of this memoir of Reichl’s tenure as the restaurant critic for The New York Times in the 1990s.
I loved her stories of the various restaurants, from tiny noodle shops to elegant restaurants, where even the King of Spain is kept waiting at the bar. What I really appreciated about the book, however, was the “secret life” part – her own growth as a person. As Reichl tried on various disguises she found that she was also revealing different personalities – timid or demanding, happy or dour, compassionate or selfish. She learned much about herself, what she liked and what she didn’t like. And she was fearless in revealing these various facets of herself to the reader.
Her writing really shines, not surprisingly, when she is describing food. I am in awe of her palate, her ability to tease out and identify the subtle flavorings in a complex dish:
(Describing the risotto) It tasted as if a chef had stood at the stove, stirring diligently as he coaxed each grain of rice into soaking up stock. As a finale he had strewn plump little morsels of lobster through the rice, giving it the taste of the ocean.
(Gougeres) And then I didn’t say anything else because I had taken a bite of one of the little puffs and I was concentrating on the way they simply evaporated into hot, cheesy air when my mouth closed over them.
(Quenelles de brochet) Very few restaurants still make these ethereal dumplings, a marriage of air and ocean, and even fewer do them right. … I take a bite and the softness surrounds my mouth with the taste of lobster, of fish, of butter and then it just dissolves, disappears, leaving nothing but the memory in my mouth. And I take another bite, and another, and suddenly I’m floating on the flavor, and the world has vanished.
(Venison) Surrounded by chestnuts, apples, a fruity puree of squash, the meat is so delicious that I find myself eating as if it is the first course. When I look down, I realize that I have eaten everything, even the single aromatic grape that decorated the plate.
A delicious memoir, and I devoured every word. I think I’ll make lamb for dinner tonight….
Bernadette Dunne does a marvelous job performing the audio version of this book. She has reasonably good skill as a voice artist to give the various characters unique and believable voices, though her 4-year-old Nicky sound like an adult imitating a little boy. Her pacing is good, and she even makes the recipes sound interesting.
December 19, 2022
Ніхто не пише про їжу так як Рут Райхл: ..it was wonderful soup, as if chef were dreaming of the sea.. the flavours tiptoed quietly into my mouth and then suddenly picked up the pace, so powerful that they were reverberating in a little tap dance of taste.
Як і попередані мемуари, цей присвячений певному періоду життя. Йдеться про роки в ролі ресторанного критика у New York Times, той час, коли люди купували та читали періодику (1993 - 1996). Всі ресторани Нью Йорку мали поширену пам'ятку серед працівників, як саме виглядає ресторанний критик найвпливовішої газети. Тому Рут доводиться бути креативною — маскуватися під інших людей. Бути Critic in Disguise, тобто замаскованим критиком. Вона шукає різні образи та перетворюється на Моллі, Бренду, Хлої, Бетті, Емілі і навіть свою маму Міріам.
Трішки шизофренічно, адже кожного разу Рут вживається в цей образ чи радше розуміє, що це зовсім не образ, а якась глибока частинка її самої. Мені особливо сподобалося, як вона почувалася у образі блондинки Хлоії (перед якою зупиняється будь-яке таксі) та яскравої, оптимістичної, веселої Бренди.
В кожному розділі авторка знову подає свої домашні рецепти, прості та comforting, на відміну від того, що вона дегустує в найдорожчих ресторанах міста. В моїх закладках опинилися: New York Cheesecake, Nicky's Vanilla Cake, Scalloped Potatoes, Risotto Primavera, Last Minute Chocolate Cake.
"Time slows down in the kitchen, offering up an entire universe of small satisfactions."
Сумую, що це моя остання книжка авторства Рут— всі попередні мемуари я вже проковтнула, проте завжди знала, що є ще щось аби вгамувати свій апетит. Після її книжок хочеться насолоджуватися їжею та й, зрештою, життям till the last bite.
Як і попередані мемуари, цей присвячений певному періоду життя. Йдеться про роки в ролі ресторанного критика у New York Times, той час, коли люди купували та читали періодику (1993 - 1996). Всі ресторани Нью Йорку мали поширену пам'ятку серед працівників, як саме виглядає ресторанний критик найвпливовішої газети. Тому Рут доводиться бути креативною — маскуватися під інших людей. Бути Critic in Disguise, тобто замаскованим критиком. Вона шукає різні образи та перетворюється на Моллі, Бренду, Хлої, Бетті, Емілі і навіть свою маму Міріам.
Трішки шизофренічно, адже кожного разу Рут вживається в цей образ чи радше розуміє, що це зовсім не образ, а якась глибока частинка її самої. Мені особливо сподобалося, як вона почувалася у образі блондинки Хлоії (перед якою зупиняється будь-яке таксі) та яскравої, оптимістичної, веселої Бренди.
В кожному розділі авторка знову подає свої домашні рецепти, прості та comforting, на відміну від того, що вона дегустує в найдорожчих ресторанах міста. В моїх закладках опинилися: New York Cheesecake, Nicky's Vanilla Cake, Scalloped Potatoes, Risotto Primavera, Last Minute Chocolate Cake.
"Time slows down in the kitchen, offering up an entire universe of small satisfactions."
Сумую, що це моя остання книжка авторства Рут— всі попередні мемуари я вже проковтнула, проте завжди знала, що є ще щось аби вгамувати свій апетит. Після її книжок хочеться насолоджуватися їжею та й, зрештою, життям till the last bite.
February 12, 2008
Living in Manhattan is incredibly expensive, but eating well in Manhattan isn't. That's the one thing I learned when I lived there in 1998.
When Reichl came to the New York Times as restaurant critic in the nineties, however, the paper was not known for reviewing the incredibly delicious (and incredibly affordable) ethnic restaurants that are thick upon the ground. For the Times, a four star restaurant was inevitably French, inevitably required reservations, and inevitably granted you superior service if you were rich, famous, or both.
This memoir of Reichl's years at the Times is partly about the restaurants of Manhattan (where the national chain is still a rarity), but mostly about the people who patronize them. Her insistence on reviewing fine sushi bar and noodle shops alongside classic French cuisine was only the one hurdle; the superior service she received when recognized as the Time's restaurant critic was more harmful than even the paper's entrenched policies. To cope, Reichl resorted to subterfuge, developing a series of costumes that would allow her an unbiased experience at the restaurant du jour.
Nothing, however, is without bias. Reichl does a wonderful job blending what she learned about restaurants with what she learned about herself, alternately masking and amplifying her personality with her disguises. Well-worth reading for both Reichl and for New York, both the subject and the treatment are excellently presented.
When Reichl came to the New York Times as restaurant critic in the nineties, however, the paper was not known for reviewing the incredibly delicious (and incredibly affordable) ethnic restaurants that are thick upon the ground. For the Times, a four star restaurant was inevitably French, inevitably required reservations, and inevitably granted you superior service if you were rich, famous, or both.
This memoir of Reichl's years at the Times is partly about the restaurants of Manhattan (where the national chain is still a rarity), but mostly about the people who patronize them. Her insistence on reviewing fine sushi bar and noodle shops alongside classic French cuisine was only the one hurdle; the superior service she received when recognized as the Time's restaurant critic was more harmful than even the paper's entrenched policies. To cope, Reichl resorted to subterfuge, developing a series of costumes that would allow her an unbiased experience at the restaurant du jour.
Nothing, however, is without bias. Reichl does a wonderful job blending what she learned about restaurants with what she learned about herself, alternately masking and amplifying her personality with her disguises. Well-worth reading for both Reichl and for New York, both the subject and the treatment are excellently presented.
August 15, 2014
You may or may not assume this from looking at me, but I think a lot about what Erving Goffman calls "The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life." I'm not saying I don't have my lazy moments, OR that I necessarily pay a lot of attention to fashion. But, like most things about the way I live my life, the way I dress and groom myself is methodical. Thought-through.
Maybe this is why I was hooked by the concept of this book. I mean, I like eating. Like eating in restaurants, in fact. But just the fact that this is a memoir by the former New York Times restaurant critic would not be enough to pull me into reading an adult title*. Yes, it must have been the disguises.
Reichl introduces the book by describing how she became aware that, as the NYT restaurant critic, she would be stalked. By restaurants, wanting to court her favor for better ratings. In contrast to many other critics (at least in this telling), Reichl had a problem with that. She wanted to review restaurants as they would be experienced by EVERYONE, not just VIPs. And so, she took to wearing disguises.
Watching her construct each persona was fun, especially for a former thespian. It's always interesting to hear "normals" talk about what is, essentially, acting.
And-duh-there's lots of food porn.
*As a Youth Services Librarian, I read mostly kids books (and a share of adult comics).
Maybe this is why I was hooked by the concept of this book. I mean, I like eating. Like eating in restaurants, in fact. But just the fact that this is a memoir by the former New York Times restaurant critic would not be enough to pull me into reading an adult title*. Yes, it must have been the disguises.
Reichl introduces the book by describing how she became aware that, as the NYT restaurant critic, she would be stalked. By restaurants, wanting to court her favor for better ratings. In contrast to many other critics (at least in this telling), Reichl had a problem with that. She wanted to review restaurants as they would be experienced by EVERYONE, not just VIPs. And so, she took to wearing disguises.
Watching her construct each persona was fun, especially for a former thespian. It's always interesting to hear "normals" talk about what is, essentially, acting.
And-duh-there's lots of food porn.
*As a Youth Services Librarian, I read mostly kids books (and a share of adult comics).
September 7, 2008
I really went back and forth on the rating for this. I like Ruth Reichl, I like what she's done with Gourmet, I like her non-elitist attitude, I like her food writing, and by all accounts, she's a genuinely nice person. But while she has a golden tongue for tasting, she has a wooden ear for dialogue. While her adventures in disguise have been confirmed by outside sources, they seem impossible to believe because her characterization is so wooden and awful. Heck, I almost questioned whether she actually had a son.
So, although I hold Reichl in high esteem, I cannot, in good conscience, give this book higher than three stars. I guess this is how food critics feel!
So, although I hold Reichl in high esteem, I cannot, in good conscience, give this book higher than three stars. I guess this is how food critics feel!
November 23, 2025
Absolutely delightful! This food critic memoir is funny and poignant. The details of her professional life—dressing up as different characters so as not to be recognized—and her descriptions of food and restaurants are fun and interesting. The story reads like a novel and I enjoyed the inclusion of her actual restaurant reviews from The NY Times as well as her personal recipes. It goes beyond food too as she examines what it means to be wealthy or poor, posh or not so much in the dining world and how people perceive and treat you based on your status.
I listened to this in audiobook and really enjoyed it! It took me a minute to get used to the narrators voice but I ended up loving it.
I listened to this in audiobook and really enjoyed it! It took me a minute to get used to the narrators voice but I ended up loving it.
April 5, 2021
Почему-то я думала, что книга похожа на “Дьявол носит Prada” в мире ресторанов, но нет. Автор работала ресторанным критиком в New York Times в 90-х, книга - частично автобиография, частично - ее рецензии про еду, есть немного рецептов, так как она ещё и повар. Вышло очень симпатично, заведения были очень разные - от дорогущих суси и ресторанов с фьюжн или как там это называется, которая тогда только набирала популярность до корейских кафешек. Отличная глава про магазинчики деликатесов Бруклина, где владельцы в четвёртом поколении готовят колбасу и козий сыр. Было очень вкусно :-)
June 17, 2021
This is a delightful look at the world of a food critic, albeit one who has to disguise herself in order to give fair reviews. This time around I am listening to the audiobook from the library which is simply delightful. It is perfect light listening.
June 12, 2022
I don't find anything special about Reichl's writing, either her restaurant reviews or her memoir style. What I did find odd was how badly Reichl seemed to want to be an actor. She almost always went to restaurants in disguises, buying expensive wigs, wearing different clothing, eyeglasses, etc. She would create characters and give them names and personalities: Emily, Betty, Brenda, Molly, even going as far (if you believe her, which I'm not sure I do) as to follow one homely woman on the bus, watch her buying a pathetic little assortment of groceries and dog food, trail her to her apartment door, and investigate the names on the buzzers to guess which resident she was, then use that name (the one sounding most like a charwoman) for her character. If you believe Reichl, she then created a specific persona for each: sexy, outgoing, magnanimous; commanding and imperious; prim, hateful, misanthropic, spinsterly; old, ugly, poor. These disguises were apparently so convincing that her doorman never recognized her, even though she was coming down in the elevator with her husband and son. When she adopted the sexy look and persona, men stumbled over themselves to help her. In the dowdy clothes, no one looked at her or heard her. In the restaurant, she acted and spoke as the persona, rather than Ruth, as if she were Daniel Day-Lewis inhabiting a role. It was all just a bit ridiculous.
Were the disguises really that convincing? You be the judge - here she is bewigged and bespectacled on Charlie Rose:
https://charlierose.com/videos/1856
She's interesting and watchable when she's speaking - she tosses her head around emphatically and my eyes follow it like a cat chasing a laser beam - I'm now watching all her Charlie Rose clips - but that doesn't exactly translate to the page, for me.
Charlie Rose is disgraced and off the air, but that website and archive lives on, for which I'm grateful. May it live in perpetuity.
July 30, 2019
This food memoir takes you behind the curtain to experience what it's like to be the Wizard of Oz, or in this case, the New York Times food critic in the 1990's. A position so fraught with expectations that the author (& critic) needed to assume disguises in order to objectively review restaurants.
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The way Reichl describes the food is mouthwateringly sublime. As I was reading it one Saturday afternoon I put the book down and hollered to my husband, "We're going out to dinner tonight."
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To which he replied, "Ok- any reason?"
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Me- "Yes- I'm in the mood for simple food done well."
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It couldn't be helped. It's important to note that I also enjoyed a late night corn dog with mustard while reading it as well :)
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I loved how Reichl paired her reviews with a rich backstory and “I want to try them all” recipes.
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The way Reichl describes the food is mouthwateringly sublime. As I was reading it one Saturday afternoon I put the book down and hollered to my husband, "We're going out to dinner tonight."
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
To which he replied, "Ok- any reason?"
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Me- "Yes- I'm in the mood for simple food done well."
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It couldn't be helped. It's important to note that I also enjoyed a late night corn dog with mustard while reading it as well :)
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I loved how Reichl paired her reviews with a rich backstory and “I want to try them all” recipes.
January 21, 2020
3.5
This was light on the food content and heavy on the costume/disguise stories. Which was fine, I was interested in the idea that Ruth Reichl, when she became the NYT food critic, was writing "for the people" and would base her rating on the idea that she was not getting special treatment. I didn't really see the point in getting into unpleasant characters. I felt that she took the schtick too far at times, I mean if it's getting to the point where you're going on a fake date and the guy doesn't know and you are pretending to be someone who is demanding to wait staff, what do you get from that? How does that help you write a better review? I will definitely pick up her other more food-centered books, and see how I feel about her.
This was light on the food content and heavy on the costume/disguise stories. Which was fine, I was interested in the idea that Ruth Reichl, when she became the NYT food critic, was writing "for the people" and would base her rating on the idea that she was not getting special treatment. I didn't really see the point in getting into unpleasant characters. I felt that she took the schtick too far at times, I mean if it's getting to the point where you're going on a fake date and the guy doesn't know and you are pretending to be someone who is demanding to wait staff, what do you get from that? How does that help you write a better review? I will definitely pick up her other more food-centered books, and see how I feel about her.
December 16, 2020
A food critic's job is more difficult than one might expect. As Ruth Reichl said when she interviewed with the New York Times, maybe tongue in cheek, “There is no right or wrong in matters of taste,... [i]t’s just an opinion. And in the case of restaurants, an extremely subjective one, given that no one has the faintest idea if what you taste when you bite into an apple is the same thing that I do” (p. 14).
Reviewing is also complicated because a reviewer seems to need to consume twice as many calories per day as I do – and I have a healthy appetite. She never complained, though. She also has to remain anonymous during her visits, as she believed she should write about what you and I would experience, not what celebrities and restaurant critics do. As she discovered, restaurant staff tend to put their thumbs on the scale when they know there's a critic in the house (or maybe their best foot forward).
Who should become a critic? As Reichl's husband said, "when you got into this it was almost a spiritual thing with you. You love to eat, you love to write, you love the generosity of cooks and what happens around the table when a great meal is served” (p. 256). This comes out clearly in her writing, as in this review of a "masterpiece":
It tasted as if a chef had stood at the stove, stirring diligently as he coaxed each grain of rice into soaking up stock. As a finale he had strewn plump little morsels of lobster through the rice, giving it the taste of the ocean. There was rosemary too, just a subtle touch—a fresh wind blowing across the rice and imparting little hints of green fields and verdant forests. (p. 37)
Unfortunately, as many of us have experienced in our own jobs/careers/callings, it's hard to retain that passion and intensity, as the things that make us successful may also lead to our failure. Certainly, Reichl struggled with this.
How do you avoid being identified as the New York Times Food Critic and get people an honest view of what, exactly, they're going to get out of their meal? (She was made even before she joined the NYT staff.) Her recipes, reviews, and food stories were very good, but her descriptions of trying on the identities of other people to avoid recognition were also interesting, both in terms of what they said about waitstaff and chefs, but also in terms of what she learned about herself (not always good).
Garlic and Sapphires was a quick and fun read, even though this vegetarian would not make any of Reichl's recipes. Falling in love can be a satisfying spectator's sport.
I read this book with my mother's book club. Unfortunately, the leader forgot to send out the Zoom link, and we were left out of this month's meeting. It can be more complicated to run a book club during COVID.
Reviewing is also complicated because a reviewer seems to need to consume twice as many calories per day as I do – and I have a healthy appetite. She never complained, though. She also has to remain anonymous during her visits, as she believed she should write about what you and I would experience, not what celebrities and restaurant critics do. As she discovered, restaurant staff tend to put their thumbs on the scale when they know there's a critic in the house (or maybe their best foot forward).
Who should become a critic? As Reichl's husband said, "when you got into this it was almost a spiritual thing with you. You love to eat, you love to write, you love the generosity of cooks and what happens around the table when a great meal is served” (p. 256). This comes out clearly in her writing, as in this review of a "masterpiece":
It tasted as if a chef had stood at the stove, stirring diligently as he coaxed each grain of rice into soaking up stock. As a finale he had strewn plump little morsels of lobster through the rice, giving it the taste of the ocean. There was rosemary too, just a subtle touch—a fresh wind blowing across the rice and imparting little hints of green fields and verdant forests. (p. 37)
Unfortunately, as many of us have experienced in our own jobs/careers/callings, it's hard to retain that passion and intensity, as the things that make us successful may also lead to our failure. Certainly, Reichl struggled with this.
How do you avoid being identified as the New York Times Food Critic and get people an honest view of what, exactly, they're going to get out of their meal? (She was made even before she joined the NYT staff.) Her recipes, reviews, and food stories were very good, but her descriptions of trying on the identities of other people to avoid recognition were also interesting, both in terms of what they said about waitstaff and chefs, but also in terms of what she learned about herself (not always good).
Garlic and Sapphires was a quick and fun read, even though this vegetarian would not make any of Reichl's recipes. Falling in love can be a satisfying spectator's sport.
I read this book with my mother's book club. Unfortunately, the leader forgot to send out the Zoom link, and we were left out of this month's meeting. It can be more complicated to run a book club during COVID.
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