Jeffrey SteingartenReseñas

Confessional: my view of Mr. Steingarten has been colored by other reviews calling him pompous and "casually offensive". Indeed, here are a few examples: even if said in jest, he wants to take credit for getting people to eat out of their comfort zones. He has a strong humble brag going on about the time he had a half pound bag of Oshima Island Blue Label Salt on his kitchen counter. The comments made me pay attention to every time he said something disparaging about women or demonstrated mock insecurity. In truth, it got a little annoying to be so hypersensitive to ego remarks like, "Where were you when you tasted the most delectable and expensive fish in the world? Me, I was in L.A." (p 13). Good for you, Steingarten. There have been a lot of what I call, "Have you...? I have!" statements.
But all of this is not to say Steingarten was not informative. I learned that cheese is not the source of your lactose intolerance and the monosodium glutamate will not give you a headache.
I have never been a fan of one collecting all his or her previously published essays to bring them out as a "new" book. It's just recycled words. To continue to pick on It Must've Been Something I Ate, I don't know how you can index Parmesan cheese a dozen times and not once put Italy in the index. Not even Parma makes a mention. Steingarten mostly focuses on French cuisine and French influences. He completely ignores Spain, Germany, and Italy (even though he has whole chapters on Neapolitan pizza and Parmesan cheese).

I don't understand this book. The premise seemed to be that the author had lots of different foods that he would not eat (kimchi, Greek food, etc.) and he decided he didn't want to live that way anymore. He didn't want to be someone whose eating phobias made it difficult for his dining companions, like vegans or those insufferable people who choose to go gluten free. So he basically gets over it. He says that it takes between 8 and 10 exposures to a new food for a child to embrace it, and that it took basically that same amount of exposure to the foods he hated for him to get over those phobias. All this in the introduction to the book. The rest of the book is a snooze fest. The first chapter is about making bread, and he does diary entries for the journey he took in trying to make his own delicious bread. This could have been interesting, but it was not. After that I skipped ahead to a random page and skimmed it to see if the book got better. The page was simply a bullet-point list of ketchup brands, their prices, and a single sentence of review of the product. I turned ahead a page, then two, and found that he literally was listing his personal reviews of 35 different ketchups. Is this a joke? I cannot tell you how little of a shit I give about ketchup brand reviews.

In sum, it seems that someone has forgotten to tell this author that books are supposed to be interesting. Avoid.

Great collection of slightly obsessive food writing; the description of making a turducken, including boning a turkey in a speedy two hours, is a delight.

Even though The Man Who Ate Everything was published over twenty years ago, I have to think some of the truths Steingarten uncovered about food and the consumer industry are still true. Prices and other forms of economic data might be outdated but doesn't Heinz still rule the ketchup competition? Is there still a Wall Street branch of McDonald's at 160 Broadway, two blocks north of Trinity church? Steingarten will amuse you on a variety of topics from the safest time to eat an oyster, the chemical makeup of the best tasting water and the discussion of Campbell's soup recipes to instructions on how to produce perfectly mashed potatoes and french fries (is it the potatoe, the oil, the salt, or the technique?). Even Jane Austen gets a mention into his book. You will pay more attention to the waitstaff in a fancy restaurant after you read The Man Who Ate Everything.
One surprise while reading Steingarten. His quest to be thin. I have a hard time picturing any man looking attractive and healthy at a mere 116lbs. Okay, except maybe Prince.½

I've seen Jeffrey Steingarten as a judge on the cooking competition show Iron Chef America and I've always enjoyed his gruff, opinionated personality - and especially his clear love of food! I was excited to finally get a chance to read the book for which he's best known.

It's everything I hoped it would be - opinionated, intelligent, learned, passionate, articulate, and funny.

I do have some issues with the structure of the work. This book is a collection of his food writings from the mid-1980s through the mid-1990s. It's not a cohesive narrative. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that... but I've discovered recently that this isn't my favorite style of book to read. Each chapter is wonderful, taken its own. I just have a hard time getting into the flow of reading when the narrative is so episodic, and the episodes aren't connected. It makes for a choppy experience.

What makes this book important - invaluable, in my opinion - is the argument it presents for being well-informed about food and nutrition. Mr. Steingarten insists on researching various health, nutritional, and cooking issues as deeply as possible; he constantly seeks to see through the hype and pop-science, to dismiss the fads and fears, and learn what we actually know about these things. It turns out that knowledge is frequently very different than what we're told.

Bear in mind, though, that this book came out in 1997, so the state of knowledge has changed since its publication.

If everyone made even half the effort Mr. Steingarten goes to, to learn what we really know about how we eat - this country would be much, much healthier. And our food would be far more joyous!

A collection of essays about food, written for Vogue magazine in the early 1990s.

I enjoyed reading it for the most part, if only for his enthusiasm over food, and his very dry sense of humor. As for the recipes, most of them I will not try and am not even interested in trying. They require complicated techniques, lots of equipment, and ingredients I don't have access to, not unless I want to pay through the nose to get them, and sometimes not even then. I am trying to get my kitchen and cooking down to the basics and simplify, but it is such fun to read about someone who is really enthusiastic about finding the perfect foods.

There were many references to New York City and the food purveyors there, which makes me want to go back. In many ways, his enthusiasm for food, and his confidence in his opinions on all subjects, and his humor, remind me of Brillat-Savarin.

Most collections of previously published material (short stories, newspaper columns, etc.) suffer from a wide disparity in quality as well as un-linked subject matter making it difficult to develop an understanding of the "text" as a whole.

The chapters which discuss health research/health impacts have aged the worst, because they are an inch-deep in their information and largely outdated. The more personal chapters are much more rewarding and interesting.

I gave up on this after about 150 pages, when he started talking about his right to diet pills. He's not as funny as he thinks he is, and the whole thing feels forced and try-hard to me. A few interesting facts / observations is not enough to save it...

This book is as refreshing as a cool, green salad on a hot summer night. Steingarten is both serious and funny, sometimes self-deprecating, sometimes culture-deprecating, but always with a sense of humor and a rigorously tested palate. Funny, entertaining, and flavor-enhancing.

Jeffrey Steingarten amuses and annoys me in equal measure, but since I keep finishing and enjoying his books, the amusement must be what lingers. It Must've Been Something I Ate is a follow-up to The Man Who Ate Everything; similarly, it's a set of essays on the many aspects of food and eating. Among other adventures, Steingarten goes fishing for bluefin, examines the technical aspects of Roman bread-baking, tests fourteen espresso machines, cooks for his dog, ages steaks at home, and attempts to make turducken. As a near-vegetarian, I discovered that I couldn't read this while eating: I have no problem knowing where meat comes from, but reading about making black pudding while eating was just not working out.

My one serious complaint is this: I wish he'd shut up about food allergies. For someone who understands the pleasures of cooking and eating, you'd think he'd get that some of us need to avoid or limit certain things in order to have the same enjoyment. Nope. If the joke comes naturally, Mr. Steingarten, it's because it's already been used too many times. Get new material.

Irritation (inflammation?) aside, while reading this book I just could not stop talking about it. There are so many great tidbits of social history and enough flashes of genuinely funny dry wit that it was worth wading through his less-than-brilliant moments.

TMWAE is the local chapter of Slow Foods' book club selection for November. Although I don't participate in the book club, I checked out a copy from the library nevertheless. And, I really enjoyed the first third of the book. Thereafter, my reading experience started to resemble one I often have when consuming an elaborate multi-course meal. I arrive hungry. The first couple of courses taste fabulous. At the point at which I'm satiated, the food still tastes good. Then, whoops, I've eaten too much and I don't feel as great. Unfortunately, eating to excess has the effect of revising my overall opinion of a meal downward. And so it went with Steingarten's book, which I read as a book, straight through. His chapters, however, were originally written as food columns and should probably be read as such for maximum enjoyment. Meaning, read one now and one tomorrow or the next day and so on and so forth. That said, Steingarten writes well and with a lot of humor. I particularly enjoyed the chapters in which I either learned something useful ("Ripeness is All" & "Pies From Paradise") or those in which he narrates a quirky obsession that he follows through on to the limit, such as testing all the various "subsistence" diets that he can lay his hands on or preparing all the "back of the box" recipes that he's able to collect. Although I don't share many of Steingarten's food festishes nor food aversions, I did nod synchronistically while reading his account of spending 2 weeks in Japan eating nothing but Japanese food ("Kyoto Cuisine"). I had a similar experience after spending a month in Japan in the 1970s. I was sure I must have been Japanese in some former life, since I never tired of the food and never felt any acute craving for other cuisines all the while I was there.
Read this book as one should eat, in moderate-sized portions, and enjoy the feast.

One reviewer suggested he had an unhealthy obsession with food, but if so he’s not bothered by it. He became the food critic of Vogue in 1989 and the book is a selection of some of his articles from there and other publications.
He is nothing if not thorough, pursuing the subjects of his current fascination with unrestrained zeal and a level of persistence that would make him fairly unbearable, if he didn’t have such a dry sense of humour.
The book is a series of travelogues as well as food explorations, as he flits all over the world with carefree abandon in search of the answers to whatever his current burning question is, apparently unrestricted by any considerations of money or other commitments. Oh for such a lifestyle.
It’s a very long book (360 odd pages) and by the end I found myself wishing he’d run out of investigative missions, especially when he made the discovery that the very best French fries need to be cooked in horse fat. And then set out to acquire some.

It was funny, mouth-watering and obsessing book about food. You'll definitely get hungry and after reading the book your brain would definitely be full of facts about food, how to cook good book and where to find good food. Scrap that, its not about good food but THE BEST food. However, that seems to be my problem, its food that not everyone can afford. Its not about the cheapest food but THE BEST food with THE MOST EXPENSIVE price tag. Its not for middle class citizens. I also got nauseated reading too much about food. You should read this interspersed with other books but definitely still worth the read but not worth the buy. Maybe you could borrow it from someone.

Was sad to see that the whole book was not about his experiment to get rid of his food aversions. Instead a collection of essays on food. Not bad - just not what I was in the mood for.

Totally enjoyed this well written, funny book. My husband however is glad I'm finished since he finds my relentless quoting a bit tedious. My favorite essay: Salad, the Silent Killer.

Sometimes a book is just exactly what you want to read.

Steingarten's essays on food, more or less, from Vogue.

Steingarten has a great ear for detail and makes many clever asides. He's funny when you agree with him, annoying when you don't. He has strong opinions about food, nutrition, and diets, often expressed in extremes, sometimes inaccurate (e.g., the man can assert all he wants that lactose intolerance doesn't include cheese, but he's never had to sprint with me to the bathroom after a nice Quiche Lorraine consumed sans Lactaid). The tone is usually genial, at least some of his over the top assertions are clearly tongue in cheek, and one admires his willingness to devote himself utterly to a recipe or process for weeks at a time.

I admit to skimming some of his recipes, since I know I'll never make them and I'm not that interested in, say, the perfect apple pie.

Osho's Apple Pie
Remove one frozen pie crust from the package. Fill with thinly sliced apples. sprinkle with cinnamon and a little lemon juice. Cover the edges with foil if you like, but I hate crust, so I just break it off before eating. Bake at around 350F until the apples are cooked through and the crust is brown.

There, that was much easier than Steingarten's 10 page (I kid you not) apple pie recipe, which may be delicious but perhaps not in proportion to the effort required.

His writing is a bit more witty and complex than his TV personality, but its hard to imagine it in his voice. His exhaustive research into different foods may be a bit overwhelming for some, but I enjoyed his zeal for both food knowledge and food experience. At just under 500 pages, it’s a bit too hefty to read all the way through. I recommend the truffle method for this book: read a chapter, savor it, wait at least a couple hours, then repeat.

http://lifelongdewey.wordpress.com/2012/12/05/641-the-man-who-ate-everything-by-...

Jeffery Steingarten is one of the best food writers in current media. He is witty and informative. If you love food and learning about food and laughing, you will definitely enjoy this book.

A great read from a highly literate and entertaining man with a deep understanding and great pasion for food. This volume won The Guild of Food Writers Food Book of the Year Award 1999.

This is a collection of food writing by columnist Jeffrey Steingarten.

I didn’t find this earlier collection of essays to be as enjoyable as It Must’ve Been Something I Ate, I think because they had more of a scientific, research-ly approach. But there is still a lot of terrific reading about food here, even if some essays seem a little dated. Of particular interest are the chapter on french fries — one of my favorite foods — and the one on salt. Steingarten’s mission is to prove that all those foods they say are bad for you really aren’t, and he makes a convincing argument here.½

This is a collection of food writing by columnist Jeffrey Steingarten.

Steingarten’s essays on food reveal a man who is so obsessed with good cooking and the pleasures it brings that he will do all of those things many of us wouldn’t dare to attempt in the search for a good meal. He will spend all day with French villagers taking apart a pig to learn the secrets of blood sausage. He will attempt to turn his home oven into a 900-degree pizza oven trying to reproduce truly great pizza crust at home. He will order every electric rotisserie and rotisserie attachment knkown to man to try to recreate spit-roasted chicken without the fireplace. And he writes about all of his culinary adventures with a dry wit, self-deprecating humor and complete disdain for food phobias, allergies, and the arcane rules and regulations of the USDA. It is not often that reading about cooking and eating is more fun than actually cooking and eating, but this book is the exception that proves the rule. And you can do it all afternoon without gaining a pound, unless you are overcome by the urge to try one or three of Steingarten’s exacting recipes.

With a sense of ingratitude I realized that I had never written a review saying just how much I have enjoyed reading and rereading this delightful feast of the author's witty writing. I have cooked from this book, and reading this work led me on to other treasured books and authors and I learned about foods that I both love and dislike. However; I do not suffer from any Phobias about food, having tried most at least once in my travels. But if I did this book just might cure me!

The most humorous piece, for me, is Salad the Silent Killer where the former New York Lawyer turned gourmet-author lays out a perfect ‘brief’ on the fact that plants only have one defense – poison! Denied the option of Fight Or Flight they poison each other – and us! The piece is a beautifully witty piece of writing and guides us away from ‘lowering a snout into a fake-wood plastic bowl and shoveling greens into your mouth'.

This work neatly destroys many food and culture myths and may well be responsible for a distinct lessening lately of those horrid but obligatory ‘salads’ US restaurants always plunked down in front of us.

It is interesting that a lawyer can write so well about food as to make one salivate! Entertaining, funny (perhaps witty) and informative, sprinkled with social commentary and hugely entertaining. Buy both books his The Man who Ate Everything is another gem - if you love food and its history, preparation and glories.

As any regular viewer of Iron Chef America on the Food Network knows, Jeffrey Steingarten has made occasional appearances on that show as a sarcastic, sardonic and often severe judge. He is sort of the Simon Cowell to the chef set: “This food is overcooked, unseasoned, and simply awful—and that toque makes you look fat!” He is the one that all competitors fear and respect the most and the only jurist who appears to have made Bobby Flay nervous.

I do not read his regular contributions in Vogue magazine, so I did not know that Steingarten can also be a subtle and wonderful writer. He has been a dedicated “foodie” for at least a decade before that term became fashionable and his passion is reflected throughout this series of essays, which encompass such diverse topics as the best way to bake bread, how to judge a pork rib cooking contest, why the French diet is healthy, and what makes salad so bad for you. Beyond that, he writes about his gastronomic travels around the world with such unrestrained relish that it is easy for the reader to be pulled right along with him.

Not all the essays in this book are successful; Steingarten’s penchant for “research” can be cloying and pedantic, as in the pieces on cooking with fat substitutes, trying to find the best ketchup, or testing the chemical composition of water, while other essays are hopelessly dated (e.g., how microwave ovens work). However, he is more often very insightful and genuinely funny when writing about both the mundane (salt) and the more exotic (producing true choucroute). His chapters on cooking seafood in Venice and eating his way through Tunisia are nothing short of brilliant.

Steingarten does not pretend to be an expert on any particular topic but, as an attorney by training, he definitely knows the right questions to ask and he is never afraid to put theory into practice in the kitchen. This book definitely could have used better editing—at about 500 pages, it is really way too bloated for comfortable consumption—but ultimately the good does outweigh the bad.½