I do not cook. Do not take this next post as a sign that ‘oh, she cooks, and so she’s recommending a bunch of cookbooks of her fav recipes.’ Wrong. I eat. I read about eating. I also sometimes dream about eating.

So, now I will teach a writing course about food writing in January at western in the Writing, Rhetoric and Professional Communication department. (www.uwo.ca/writing)

For the past few months I have been devouring, forgive me, I mean reading food literature. You’d have to be living under a rock for the past 10 years if you haven’t noticed that everything is food now: food memoirs, politics of food (sustainable farming, genetically modified, fair trade…), food as health reporting…the list is endless. Every genre of writing has a complementary food equal.

But, at the heart of it all, food means pleasure and togetherness. Ahh. That’s sweet you say.

So, I have listed below a few of my favourite food books…

The holidays are a great time to catch up on reading and eating, so enjoy.

Melanie

The Man Who Ate Everything by Jeffrey Steingarten. This is from Vogue’s food critic; he’s also the pompous judge that sometimes shows up on Iron Chef America. Highlights of this book: he hates Greek food. He writes that Greeks should stick to the two things: white statues and philosophy. He also adds: Indian desserts look like face cream.

M.F.K. Fisher wrote Serve It Forth back in the 1930s or 40s. It was a long time ago. It’s a seminal work because she talks about the psychology behind food–something quite new for its time. She talks about food and emotions and her life. “When a man is small, he loves and hates food with a ferocity which soon dims,” she writes.

Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl (former editor of the now defunct Gourmet Magazine). As the most famous restaurant reviewer in the world, anonymity is key. So when the identity for the New York Times food critic is compromised, what does Ruth do? Well, she fashions a series of disguises. One time she dresses like her eccentric mother. But, she dresses as herself, the famous Ruth Reichl–a woman who has restaurant owners falling over themselves to impress. The difference in service and quality of food from the two identities is telling.

The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan. On the more serious side of food writing, do you know where your food has been? Michael Pollan does and it’s not pretty. This part of the food reading makes me sad. I love food. I love the way I feel after a great meal with friends. I would hate to think that we can’t all have access to this and that the food we love is in jeopardy.

Best Food Writing 2008, an anthology edited by Holly Hughes. This is a collection of essays, reports, reviews, muses and more about food from some of the best food publications around the world. I love the variety: a story about Singapore’s outside food vendors; a story about why butter, real butter, rules; a story about making the perfect tea biscuit; or, a story about a New Orleans restaurant that resurrected after Katrina. This book put me through a list of emotions.

As Ron Burgendy, aka Will Ferrell in the movie Anchorman, says so eloquently after losing his dog Baxter: “I’m in a box of emotion!”

When I was an English student at Western University–oh, back in the early 90s– I worked at the bar on campus. In the basement of Somerville House, The Spoke Tavern was a place where staff hung out after class, after work, on the weekends–you get the idea. I was introduced to bands such as Ontario’s The Lowest of the Low, The Hip and Spirit of the West–to name a few; I also met one of my best friends there.

I spent more time at the Spoke than in class.

In the late 90s, the Spoke moved to a new location in the main student building. But sadly, it didn’t carry of the old Spoke charm–no dingy basement feel, no dark corners to hide with a beer and a new man. Eventually, the bar section closed off from the kitchen and a muffin and coffee kiosk joined in. It felt like a franchise.

But, good news: the Spoke charm has reemerged: my former Spoke boss Mark Serre has opened his own bar. The Morrissey House, named after The Smiths’ vocalist Morrissey, and I believe Mark’s mom’s nickname, Mo, it’s a bar with all the feel of a hang out: located in an old brick house, there’s cozy rooms and live music all the time. I know Dave the bartender who worked with Mark at another bar, and I know Amy, the server who I could chat with forever.

Many former Spokers hang out here, including me.

After teaching at the university, I often bring my laptop to do some work to the Mo and order my Irish fav: a Kilkenny beer. I also love the celtic Thursday nights. Three Penny Piece play folky favourites like Stan Rogers.

Since discovering this place, I have introduced it to my writing group and most recently, my mom’s friends on mom’s stagette night.  I will not publish any of my mother’s drunk antics, suffice to say the ‘girls’ loved the place.

To read Mark’s latest, visit www.themorrisseyhouse.wordpress.com.