From Publishers Weekly
Shaw likes cold cereal. Bananas, oatmeal, ice cream, Popsicles, trail mix and brioches also figure prominently in this peculiar illustrated chronicle of every food Shaw tasted in 2004. Everything. In a gustatory form of navel-gazing for the new century, Shaw snapped a photo before taking a bite of anything from fine dining to his almost nightly bowl of cereal, and has assembled the pictures in order by day, creating both a dizzying collection of the copious food available to the contemporary urban dweller (Shaw lives in New York) and a delectable look into one man's life. Many of the pictures are small and hard to discern, many hunger inducing, some unpalatable. Each is accompanied by a brief description telling when, where and with whom the food was consumed (for take-out, Shaw also usually notes the restaurant the food is from). Some foods are photographed in front of the television or a newspaper; some include a hand or other errant body part. Certainly not for everyone, this daily repast is mundane and repetitive, yet holds genuine appeal for foodies, current and former New Yorkers in love with the city's dining pleasures, and those who just find the quirky habits of others intriguing.
(July) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
Review
You could have fearlessly bet money, a lot of it, that I'd love this new book, Everything I Ate: A Year in the Life of My Mouth, by Tucker Shaw (Chronicle Books, $14.95). It combines a lot of my favorite things: food, pictures of food, restaurants, home cooking, New York, Las Vegas, Italy, obsessiveness, lists, holiday celebrations, rituals, and so on. Mr. Shaw, a New York writer of young adult novels with snappy titles (Confessions of a Backup Dancer, Flavor of the Week), as well as a book of sex advice for teens with a snappy title (This Book Is About Sex), photographed everything he ate in 2004, from oatmeal in the morning to cold cereal late at night (he must have a cereal collection rivaling Jerry Seinfeld's), often traversing fancy restaurants and takeout shops during the day. -
SF Weekly