I have become completely enamored with books about food and cooking. I suppose this makes sense. The gateway drug was food blogs. There’s something about seeing all those provocative pictures of food. It makes you lick your lips.
I attempted to wean myself from food books by reading This Side of Paradise. But I hated the book. I got annoyed with Amory. What a stupid name for a stupid boy. I got angry at the book. Why the heck is this book a classic?
After weeks of suffering, I couldn’t take it anymore. So, I went looking for another book on my bookshelf and found Heat. And suddenly, I relaxed. This was a book I could enjoy–akin to comfort food. I stayed up reading 60 pages, caught up in the story of food and cooking. It doesn’t matter how many books I’ve read about the same subject. I was enthralled.
Hmmm. I might be addicted to food writing.