Books like In Defense of Food

Wow, reading this book is tragic and illuminating all at once.

I had never heard about the Hamlet Fire, during which twenty-five people died in a chicken-processing plant in North Carolina in 1991, before reading this book.

But the story of this industrial disaster answered so many questions about how deregulation, reduced labor and environmental protections, racism, and a desire for cheap food came together in this disaster—one that sheds light on the broader problems of the modern American food system. 

This was one of the first books that I read that brought home for me how dramatic the transformation has been from how humans ate for hundreds of thousands of years to how they eat today in most parts of the world.

Recognizing that the industrialized food system is really quite new—barely an infant!—made me think about how we got here and maybe how we can change things in healthier directions moving forward.

Vileisis’s descriptions are rich and vivid, and her writing is a pleasure to read. 

I think the history books that hit the hardest are those that make you notice something you take for granted and realize it hasn’t always been this way.

Veit’s book, while on the surface being about food in World War II—already fascinating—made me realize that the modern-day American emphasis on being thin is a pretty new cultural construction. There was a time, not so long ago, that lots of advice pamphlets were written about how to be plump!

But the transformations that Veit describes from the early twentieth century changed these associations between diet, self-restriction, and moral strength in ways that reset beauty standards and reshaped American relationship to the food they eat.

It’s such an interesting and important story. 

It’s so much fun to read about these kitchens and cooks of the 1950s!

I loved all the stories that Shapiro tells about the colorful women who concocted all manner of (gag-inducing) packaged food combos during this Golden Age of Processed Food. It made me think about how gender and food and cooking and maternal love are intertwined, and how food producers and advertisers have taken advantage of those interconnections to sell more products.

The anecdote about the consumer psychologist Ernest Dichter’s role in developing packaged cake mixes will always stay with me! 

I read this book shortly before I started writing my book called Slow Sex.

I was especially struck by how David highlights elements like relaxation, pleasure, awareness, and rhythm as essential to metabolism. I also discovered the existence of Yoga’s universal metabolic enhancers, which I knew nothing about!

All this fascinated me because it is precisely these metabolic enhancers that are completely parallel with the qualities I incorporated into my sexual exploration four decades ago. These qualities then became the principles of Slow Sex that I propose, because they profoundly shape and impact the quality of intimacy.

This book was also a reminder to avoid distractions while eating, to eat more consciously, to chew more thoroughly so as to liberate the flavors, and to savor them. A great book!

The family stories in this book bring history to life on a personal level. The five families are connected by their immigrant experience, but they approached food in different ways, from family-oriented German biergartens to kosher delis to imported olive oil. Each new wave of immigrants brought their own unique traditions to America, and the neighborhood evolved as each successive group brought something new to the metaphorical table.

I find the tension between maintaining food traditions and adapting them to a new nation fascinating. It also made me think about how much each group contributed to the American diet. 

Who could resist this first line? “I slept with my French husband halfway through our first date.” Not me! Elizabeth Bard, in Paris for the weekend, sits down to lunch with a handsome Frenchman and falls in love.  

Bard reveals how, despite her dreams of success, she was able to reinvent herself after marrying a Frenchman and moving to France. The included recipes run the gamut from what he cooked for her after they first made love to French dinner party food and traditional favorites from her American-Jewish family. 

This memoir of finding a new life in the City of Lights is well-written, humorous, and personal. If you, like me, have ever fantasized that Paris could change your life, this book is a must-read.

Reading this book was a bit of a revelation for me. The book is not only an intelligent assessment of the moral-ethical dilemma of eating meat, but it’s a brilliant piece of writing—nothing short of a work of art.

What sets Williams’s book apart from others on the subject is the quality and genre of the writing; rather than straight journalism/memoir, it’s an extended lyric essay, a work of creative nonfiction, which is something that’s sorely underrepresented in the wider world of food writing.

I loved every page of it, and remain haunted by the poetry of Williams’s unflinching vision of what it means to be an animal that eats other animals.

I love travelling to Italy’s great cities: Florence, Venice, Rome, Naples, Palermo, Bologna, Turin. One of the great pleasures is enjoying the local foods and wines. In this book, John Dickie demonstrates that Italy’s famed regional cuisines have origins not in the countryside but in the peculiar and particular workings of these great urban entities.

By exploring foods through links to cities, and cities through the foods that are unique to each, whether because of foreign influences, systems of agricultural tender, or through highlighting differences between working, merchant, and aristocratic classes, Dickie gave me greater insight and appreciation into place through the food that you or I will encounter on our plates, wherever in Italy we might happen to find ourselves.

I was quite taken by Laudan’s attention to the preparation of foods, from deep time to the present, in many of the regions of the world. She is attentive to mixtures: in any dish, in the kinds of dishes served for meals of different kinds, in the sharing and exchanging of tastes, and in the close relationships between dining and worship.

Beginning with the simple motions of a woman grinding grain on stone for the daily meal, or pounding hulls in a vessel, to the innumerable kitchen attendants needed to turn raw materials into ingredients for palace feasts, or the labor-saving kitchen appliances of fast-paced modernity, the ability to break bread in community has long depended on local ecologies and ways of life, as well as human ability to make the best of what is to hand. In fact, she sees the rise of distinctive world food cultures not as… show more.