Customer Reviews

It Must've Been Something I Ate

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I feel I was lucky enough, first of all, to meet Mr. Steingarten at a book signing at DiPalo's Fine Italian Foods in Little Italy. While waiting to buy my usual selection of the best Italian cheeses, meats, etc. and talking to the usual shoppers with whom we've become such friends over the years, I started glancing through the book. I couldn't stop so it had to be one of my Christmas presents to myself. Others also felt the same way and Mr. Steingarten couldn't sign fast enough. And how wonderful to find a whole chapter about DiPalo's and Luigi DiPalo who has carried on his father's tradition, not only as the store owner but as a walking encyclopedia of everything Italian from every different olive oil and it's characteristics to the four-months seasonal Parmegianno Reggiano (he once had a tasting of all four seasons and explained the reasons why each season had it's clear differences). Mr. Steingarten wrote such a beautiful chapter on Luigi, his vast knowledge, his vast supply of the best of Italy that it took me back to the many years I have spent every Saturday morning there. Mr. Steingarten tells story after story in such superb style and panache and he is a man with such humility and joy talking to people that he is an icon in the food world. How lucky we are to be able to read this talented writer yet again. If you enjoy food and Jeffrey Steingarten (how could you not) you HAVE TO OWN THIS BOOK because you will read and reread it always.

This is a wonderful book, as was the first. Encompassing, more or less at random: travel and food, history and food, science and food, technology and food and a healthy helping of the sociology of eating, it was a fast and funny read. There are books devoted to each of these topics which does a more rigorous job at it, but no one else rolls them all into so fun and informative a package. And, as opposed to a book which deals strictly with, say, the science of food and cooking, you can use this one to learn the names of the best French cooks and the names of their and countless other worthy restaurants.
I haven't previously found anyone willing to discuss the merits of caviar AND cricket tacos within the same volume.
I'd recommend the purchase of this at the same time as "The Man who ate Everything" - you won't be able to read only one.

I loved Jeffrey Steingarten's first book; his chapters on ketchup, horse fat, and olestra were probably the funniest things ever written about food. His travel writings on Japan, Tuscany, and Paris made me wish that I too could spend weeks eating my way around the world.

I thought that this book was entertaining. I was amused that he shared my dislike of Tomoe Sushi (he calls it "Super Sushi"), a mediocre sushi place in the village that inexplicably gets a food rating in the high 20's from Zagat. I also hold him directly responsible for the pound of Mont D'Or sitting in my fridge right now.

Unfortunately, these essays are just not of the same caliber as the first book. Somewhere along the way, Steingarten picked up a habit of name dropping (I really don't care what chefs he is friends with) that gets in the way of the story telling. And some of the creativity of the first book is missing; there is nothing as nuts as "Salad the Silent Killer" in this set of essays.

If you loved "The Man Who Ate Everything," you will probably like this book. If you didn't, I'd recommend that you read that book first.

I loved Jeffrey Steingarten's first book of essays and was thrilled he'd released a second. I find his writing to be warm, witty and lovely. His affection for food is infectious, and I appreciated the inclusion of several recipes and where-to-buy suggestions (I will be making Pierre Herme's version of hot chocolate, NOT Laura Bush's!). It is rare to find a writer who combines erudition with humor and manages to remain accessible along the way....

IT MUST'VE BEEN SOMETHING I ATE was my introduction to Jeffrey Steingarten; I found it to be a zesty tome of tasty morsels.

Steingarten's essays (collected from VOGUE magazine) recount his forays into the world of haute cuisine. Despite moving in the upper echelon of the culinary world, Steingarten comes across as a giddy uber-gourmand-geek, travelling the world, the country, and every street in New York City, in search of the best (as he defines it) of everything when it comes to food.

From his trek across the Big Apple with his high-tech spot-thermometer to measure pizza-oven temperatures, to his southern tour of Lousiana in search of the origins of "turducken", Steingarten writes in a sly "don't you wish you were here" style. He often pokes fun at his near-maniacal enterprises to prepare (seemingly) things like a cup of espresso or a loaf of bread, but he never (well, hardly ever) pokes fun at the food -- at least not the idea of food. Good food. Really, REALLY good food.

Like a grand multiple course meal, Steingarten is best taken in small amounts -- an essay here, another there -- so that one doesn't get too full too quickly nor become overwhelmed at the sheer richness and complexity of each individual dish. Indeed, taken in moderate proportions, IT MUST'VE BEEN SOMETHING I ATE leaves one well-sated and wanting more.

`It Must've Been Something I Ate' is Jeffrey Steingarten's second collection of Vogue columns, following the earlier `The Man Who Ate Everything'. Monsieur Steingarten is certainly better recognized these days among the foodie masses as he has appeared as the anchor judge on many of the new Food Network `Iron Chef America' shows, and adds gravity to the show as one of the few people who can trump commentator Alton Brown's perceptions on food.

I was always puzzled by the fact that a magazine like Vogue, which I have never once picked up to read, and which I perceived as a home largely of advertisements for goods appealing to women who have more money than they know what to do with (sic). I was chastised somewhat when I discovered that Mr. Steingarten's role at Vogue was formerly staffed by none other than Elizabeth David, one of the most interesting and respected culinary writers of the 20th century.

Mr. Steingarten's writing has a `family resemblance' to Ms. David's work, but they are really doing a slightly different kind of dialogue with their readers. Elizabeth David took conventional food writing with recipe plus commentary and elevated it to its highest level. Her closest students were Jane Grigson and Claudia Roden. Like James Beard with American cooking, her knowledge of food, especially European and Mediterranean food was encyclopedic.

Steingarten is doing something different! I would even argue with the blurb on the cover of my Vintage edition that states that he `knows more about food than any man now eating'. That perception may be due to the fact that Steingarten looks into food issues more deeply than almost any other writer I can cite, with the possible exception of Harold McGee. But Steingarten is a much better writer than McGee, so he is much more enjoyable to read. I think of him as being a culinary Sherlock Holmes who uses, or who has friends who use all of the very best scientific methods for tracking down the scoop on interesting food issues.

A classic example of his `modus operandi' is the article on differences in the varieties of salt. The jumping off point for the story is the fact that appreciation for salt has reached levels formerly lavished on olive oils. The heavy of the story is fellow food writer Robert Wolke who published a series of articles that claimed that the differences from one salt to the next are small and are largely due to the shape of the salt crystals. Like me, Wolke comes to culinary matters from a background in chemistry. And, since I know, like Wolke, that virtually all forms of salt are simply 98% Sodium Chloride. And, the odds are that the remaining one or two percent of the chemical composition is composed of inorganic compounds which simply do not register either on our tongue or nose. This is not to say that there are not important differences between salts. Kosher(ing) salt, for example is truly superior to table salt for seasoning simply because it is easier to handle while cooking.

Since Steingarten and his colleagues are more attuned to the culinary aspects of things than chemist Wolke, Steingarten felt Wolke was missing something. So, he enlists some pretty serious medical and statistical talent to conduct a true double blind test of the differences in taste. To make the experiment even better, the differences in crystal shape is factored out by doing the tasting of a 2% solution. I am very quickly getting the feeling that it is not Steingarten but the famous science writer, Stephen Jay Gould who I am reading.

Since it makes a great story, Steingarten is not at all shy in confessing that statistically, the first experiment showed very little difference in the various salts. Steingarten did not lose me when he felt that further investigation was needed. The aesthetic perception of something that not everyone can appreciate is an entirely familiar story. Just scratch the opinions of ten people at random to ask them what they think of Jackson Pollack's oil paintings and you will find more than half believing they are shams. Steingarten and his high priced scientific talent repeat the experiment with somewhat different conditions but with no loss of scientific rigor and come up with some, but not compelling statistical basis for saying that the tastes of one or two of the salts was different from the table salt controls.

Steingarten was probably constrained by the space allotted him on the pages of Vogue, but I would have liked him to take things just one step further and consider the relative costs of the `artisinal' salts compared to the perceived differences in taste. I suspect that Steingarten won this battle, but the salt enthusiasts may have lost the war to establish the greater culinary cachet of arcane salts.

But, unlike scientist Gould's work, this book is simply not about whether Steingarten reaches either the right or the desired conclusion. It is about the vistas opened to ways of thinking for yourself about food and the enjoyment you get from Mr. Steingarten's immensely talented way of writing about food. As with the case of the investigation into salt, I may have agreed with Professor Wolke's conclusion, but I think Steingarten was superior in every way in how he approached the issue. Wolke is good, but Steingarten is better.

Very highly recommended culinary reading!

These two books should be considered as a pair - they are both of the same structure (small articles), same style (witty yet informative), same approach to knowledge (always trying to instill some) and goal (entertaining to the extreme). The only problem is that they tend to overlap in my mind....

For example, which one had the hilarious French Eatathon, which one had the article on ripening fruit, where was the essay about cheese? Regarless, both of these are just excellent works for quick reads. Unlike MFK Fisher, whose ouevre reads like novels, Steingarten seems to have found his gait as the food reviewer in Vogue. The articles seem somehow "Magazinish" and this is not necessarily a bad thing. He takes a fresh approach to food and eating in general - not reverent but certainly serious.

I had previously not read anything Jeffrey Steingarten had written. After completing just the first essay in this volume of his collected columns, I realized my life had been the poorer for not reading his works before. Steingarten enthralled me from the beginning. Whether it is his quest to cook the perfect pizza, a huge undertaking including measuring temperatures in pizza ovens, timing baking, making exhaustive measurements in dough preparation (recipe included), his quest to make the ultimate hot chocolate (yes, recipe included), or his expose on whether there truly is a unique flavor to sea salt (no recipe included), Steingarten takes us on adventures we never knew existed, but now cannot do without. He eats around the world (though in this book most often to France), and we mentally eat with him. Steingarten is able to capture the essence of flavors, the excitement of discovering new foods, and the stories behind much of what we already eat. His essays are populated with learned chefs, butchers, writers, farmers, almost all professions related to food. There is never a dull moment in this highly entertaining and informative (a rare combination) book.

For anyone who has read Jeffrey Steingarten's food writings in Vogue magazine, his first book "The Man Who Ate Everything", or simply loves food, this book is for you. Filled with witty stories, the book explores everything from Toro (the fatty belly in tuna served in Japanese restaurants) to MSG (aka "Chinese Restaurant syndrome") to chocolate. I definitely recommend this book to anyone - it's better than any dessert!

If you are interested in food, this is a great read. It is very informative and very entertaining. I especially like the author's research in the best way to prepare some food - like tacos or expresso, pizza, etc. I will get his first book as soon as I can find it!