I stumbled on this at a used bookstore and when I was checking out, the proprietor was raving about James Salter. Which was funny, because I picked the book for the subject and format – I had never heard of Salter!
He’s known for his novels, apparently, but he and his wife, a journalist and playwright, are also great lovers of food (and the travel that often accompanies that love). Life is Meals is a year-long journey of recipes, food facts, food history and personal memories.
I’d give a huge portion of them five stars. I loved learning where certain recipes or meals came from, how a particular cheese is made or the history behind some dinner tradition. I was less interested in personal recollections of meals with the famous, the love lives of world-renowned chefs or the entries on wines, which I buy infrequently. But no day’s entry is longer than a page or so. If you find yourself mildly uninterested in a few, here and there, it’s still no burden to breeze through them.
I knew from the introduction that the Salters were my people: “We put the book together not to be definitive but rather to appeal to those for whom eating is something more than a mere necessity. It’s not meant to replace favorite cookbooks but instead, in a way, to complement them, to give them further context and, in the course of doing it, to give a year, perhaps more, of pleasure.”
I loved this January 16 advice, in an entry about giving dinner parties: “Tidy the bathroom guests will use, clear clutter, and let it go at that. Devote yourself instead to the elements that will actually be memorable: the food and the conversation.” (Actually, the whole dinner-party series of entries was pretty delightful and genuinely helpful.)
There are rules for houseguests and for waiters and for bakers. You can read about the freshness of fish and avocados and bread, alongside the eating habits of famous authors, actors and world leaders.
An April entry on manners admits that table rules change with time. “The true mark of courtesy is for the host or hostess to casually commit the same mistake as the guest to show that it is perfectly all right. The opposite of this once took place at the White House after lunch when President Calvin Coolidge, a taciturn man, put some milk into his coffee and slowly poured it into his saucer. His guest politely imitated him. Then Coolidge reached down and put the saucer on the floor for the cat.”
Under the April 20 entry, “John Irving,” I wrote “I love everything about this.”
I discovered my daughter was born the same day as legendary chef Alice Waters.
I learned chef’s jackets are double-breasted so they can be “buttoned either way to hide stains.” (Why aren’t all my clothes double-breasted??)
I put stars all around an Elspeth Huxley quote in an October entry: “You cannot sell a blemished apple in the supermarket, but you can sell a tasteless one, provided it is shiny, smooth, even, uniform, and bright.”
I don’t do a lot of books that are designed to be read in tiny bits through a full year, but I’m glad I enjoyed this one that way, instead of plowing straight through it. My daily two or three minutes with the Salters were something to look forward to.
And here’s the thing, flipping back through the book to write this, remembering all I loved about it, the few entries that didn’t put me over the moon don’t seem like that big of a deal. If you love food and travel and interesting people, you’re going to enjoy this book.