The Art of Eating In: How I learned to love the stop spending and love the stove by Cathy Erway

When I once had the good fortune to spend a few days in New York City (Manhattan, specifically), it reinforced my belief that the biggest draw to big city living is the abundance of great restaurants.  I was enamored of all of the small specialty food shops, too, but wondered how much I would cook in a city where the large majority of the kitchens are smaller than my current pantry.

So when I heard about Cathy Erway’s self-imposed exile from New York City restaurants, I was intrigued.  And not only did I enjoy the book, but I actually understand why Erway was willing to give up that embarrassment of riches.

Erway started by writing a blog (noteatingoutinny.com), but this book isn’t a collection of her columns.  Each chapter looks at different aspects of her version of not eating out, which includes urban foraging, cook-offs, secretive supper clubs and freeganism (rummaging through the untainted castoffs of restaurants and shops).  She then appends a few recipes to each chapter.  I saw nothing I would want to tackle; they all have lengthy ingredient lists and presumes easier access to exotic ingredients than I have.

I like that Erway doesn’t get overly preachy about the environmental and financial savings of eating in, although they are addressed.  She misses restaurants and has to learn to date without eating out, not an easy feat in any city.  Her descriptions of invitation only supper club events and the cameraderies of cook-offs, though, is where I believe she really shines.

I’m not ready to give up eating out (although my pocketbook is encouraging me to follow Erway’s path, at least to some extent), nor am I ready to try my hand at Mexican tripe stew.  But I did add Erway’s blog to my RSS feed, and have already bookmarked her Roasted Red Pepper and Parmesan soup as a possibility for my kitchen.

The Book of Joby by Mark J. Ferrari

Sometimes I’m reluctant to read books suggested to me by other people; especially people whose reading tastes I’m not already familiar with.  And if the book is big (this one is 638 pages!), I’ll hesitate even more, given that I get about 15 minutes of reading time on a good day.  But something made me take the plunge anyway, and I’m hear to announce to all and sundry that if my young friend Mary suggests another book to me, I’ll jump in with both feet.

The basic premise is simple.  The Creator and Lucifer enter into a wager, similar to one they’ve had many times in the past, one upon which the continued existence of all Creation hinges.  If one person, agreed upon by both parties, willingly turns to evil within the time span of the wager, the Creator agrees to wipe out all creation and remake it according to Lucifer’s instructions.  That person is Joby Petersen.

When we meet Joby, he’s a young child and his head is filled with thoughts of honor, nobility, chivalry and bravery, all engendered by a book of Arthurian tales left to him by his grandfather.  He’s smart and charismatic and it’s easy to see why the Creator chose him as his champion.  But the terms of the wager dictate that the Creator cannot intervene in Joby’s life while Lucifer can, so the deck is stacked very deeply against our young hero.

The bad guy is crystal clear, of course, but his tools not necessarily so.  Father Richter believes that in preaching absolute purity to Joby, he’s doing the Lord’s work.  He’d be devastated to find out that he’s doing more harm than good.  Even some of the good guys are surprised by how much they’re willing to bend, if not outright break, the rules.

And I love the relationship between the Creator and his angels, Lucifer included.  He shows humor and forbearance, but also a tendency towards trickery, when warranted.  This is not a vengeful Creator; it’s a patient Creator who created angels and humans out of pure love.

As much as I love fantasy, I do get tired sometimes of the unremitting goodness of the good guys and the ceaseless badness of the bad guys.  I like some reality in my fantasy; no one is all good or all bad.  Ferrari does a beautiful job of mixing that up a little bit, even attributing some noble intentions to the baddest baddy of all, Lucifer.

Other suggestions:  If you read and enjoyed Christopher Moore’s Lamb, I think you’ll enjoy this as well.  If you like this, I’d recommend Lamb to you, but with some caution, as Lamb is much more ribald.