→ June 25, 2008
→ By

The Klaw 100, part three.

Part one (#100-81)
Part two (#80-61)
Part four (#40-21)
Part five (#20-1)

60. The Secret Agent, by Josef Conrad. Conrad is highly esteemed within the literary world for both Nostromo and Lord Jim, but I prefer The Secret Agent for its readability and the presence of some real, bona fide narrative greed. It was adapted, loosely, by Alfred Hitchcock for his 1936 film, Sabotage. (Conrad’s best-known work, Heart of Darkness, is too short for this list.)

59. Dead Souls, by Nikolai Gogol. The first third of an unfinished trilogy, usually sold with the surviving fragments of book two (destroyed by the author about ten days before his suicide), Dead Souls is a dark comedy about serfdom in czarist Russia and the buying and selling of the rights to recently deceased serfs. Its publication and success mark the beginning of the Russian novel and one of the most fertile periods of great literature in any culture.

58. The Leopard (Il Gattopardo), by Giuseppe di Lampedusa. Like so many novels on this list, The Leopard is the only novel written by its author. In fact, it was published posthumously by the author’s widow, and eventually became the first best-seller in Italian literature. It tells the story of the decline of a noble family during the unification of Italy, based loosely on the own author’s family history.

57. Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson. Long John Silver, Captain Flint, Billy Bones, pieces of eight, fifteen men on a dead man’s chest. Yo ho ho!

56. The Small Bachelor, by P.G. Wodehouse. Not part of any series, this one-off book encapsulates the Wodehouse novel’s form perfectly, with two couples kept apart by circumstances, an incompetent artist, an efficiency expert, a policeman bent on becoming a poet, a female pickpocket, and the usual dose of misunderstandings and chases.

55. The Maltese Falcon, by Dashiell Hammett. The book is a must-read; the movie is a must-see. It’s probably considered the best hard-boiled detective novel ever written … but there’s one I rate higher.

54. Housekeeping, by Marilynne Robinson. Full review. Haunting yet beautiful, desolate yet hopeful, Housekeeping shows how much a skilled author can do with just a scarce supply of characters and limited dialogue.

53. 1984, by George Orwell. The ultimate dystopian novel as well as the most scathing attack on totalitarianism in literature, 1984 wins out over Brave New World for me because the polemic is built around a deep study of the main character, Winston Smith. Irrelevant note: The best paper I wrote as a student was a comparison of the way colors and light are described in 1984 and Brave New World. Where Orwell saw “yellow,” Huxley saw “gold,” and so both authors created vastly differing pictures of their dystopian futures.

52. On the Road, by Jack Kerouac. The Great American Novel? Not for me, but certainly a great American novel, featuring thinly-veiled versions of Allen Ginsburg, William S. Burroughs, Neal Cassady, and Kerouac himself, criss-crossing the country, with inventive phrasing and a dialect that defined the Beat Generation and two generations that came after it.

51. The Magnificent Ambersons, by Booth Tarkington. Winner of the 1919 Pulitzer Prize for the Novel, Tarkington’s best-known novel tells of the rise of the United States – both the growth of its economy and the democratization of its society – by depicting the gradual decline and ossification of an aristocratic family. It also became perhaps Orson Welles’ least favorite of his own films, as the studio forced him to change the ending and cut significant chunks of the finished film; the original footage is lost.

50. At Swim-Two-Birds, by Flann O’Brien. A silly novel that was meta before meta existed, with a novel within a novel that sees its characters revolt against their fictional author. It also spawned the greatest endorsement in the history of the novel, from Dylan Thomas: “This is just the book to give your sister … if she’s a loud, dirty, boozy girl.”

49. Lucky Jim, by Kingsley Amis. Full review. A great comic novel about a mostly-normal professor at a small English college who is surrounded by wackos and manages to get himself into increasing quantities of trouble.

48. I, Claudius and Claudius the God, by Robert Graves. A tour de force of historical fiction, told from the perspective of Claudius, the slightly lame and (as we learn) totally insecure man who survived decades of political intrigues and murders to become first Caligula’s consul and later an exalted Emperor of Rome.

47. Uncle Tom’s Cabin, by Harriet Beecher Stowe. A protest novel and an affectionate portrait of the title character, whose name has sadly been misused as an intra-racial insult by people who do not appear to have read the book.

46. Slaughterhouse-Five, by Kurt Vonnegut. I often vacillate on the question of my favorite Vonnegut novel, so I’ve punted and gone with the experts’ pick. Although I can almost certainly say that this wasn’t my favorite, it is one of his most coherent, and at the same time has enough wackiness and weirdness and Kilgore Trout to be undeniably Vonnegut.

45. The Three Musketeers, by Alexandre Dumas père. Filled with a chewy nougat center … um, and lots of adventure, with a pair of villains, plenty of treachery, a young man seeking to become the fourth musketeer … and a smooth milk chocolate exterior.

44. Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe. So simple in style that it reads like a fable meant to be told through the generations, with an unflinching message about the effects of colonialism on Africa’s culture and its people. Its sequel, No Longer at Ease, is also worth your time, even though it runs over similar ground.

43. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, by Ken Kesey. A comic novel in a serious setting, Cuckoo’s Nest always struck me as the dissection of a power struggle between two people and a statement on how leaders, and perhaps governments, attempt to sway the hearts of men. The pickup basketball game remains a personal favorite scene of mine.

42. Crime and Punishment, by Fyodor Dostoevsky. A novel of serious moral questions, of Dostoevsky’s own philosophy blending Christianity with existentialism, of redemption, and most of all of the power of rationalization.

41. The Lord of the Rings trilogy, by J. R. R. Tolkien. One ring to rule them all.

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→ June 24, 2008
→ By

The Klaw 100, part two.

Part one (#100-81)
Part three (#60-41)
Part four (#40-21)
Part five (#20-1)

80. Ragtime, by E. L. Doctorow. An extremely easy read, despite the references to some characters by roles (“Mother’s Younger Brother”) rather than names, with rolling, twisting plot lines and text that takes you into another era.

79. Rebecca, by Daphne Du Maurier. Full review. A classic gothic mystery, which also led to Alfred Hitchcock’s only non-honorary Oscar.

78. The Scarlet Pimpernel, by Baroness Orczy. Overlooked now, probably because of the rather unflattering depiction of a Jewish character, it’s a fast-paced and tense adventure story that deserves to be read by readers who understand its historical context. (And it’s hardly the only book on this list to take its shots at Jews.)

77. Song of Solomon, by Toni Morrison. Full review. Morrison’s second-best novel, the story of a black family divided through two generations and of one of the sons, Milkman Dead, who is searching for his own identity in the world.

76. A Grain of Wheat, by Ngugi wa’Thiongo. One of the best and most important novels written by an African author, Grain depicts a Kenyan village divided by the white colonial authorities, who use their power to split and oppress the people whose land they rule.

75. Blood Meridian, by Cormac McCarthy. Full review. Beautifully written tale of good and evil with an uncomfortably high level of violence.

74. The Awakening, by Kate Chopin. A novella in the ruined-woman genre, The Awakening takes the story of Anna Karenina, transfers it to New Orleans, and condenses it to focus strictly on the woman, her choices, and the society that boxes her into a corner.

73. Fathers and Sons, by Ivan Turgenev. An under-read Russian novel, like Goncharov’s Oblomov, Fathers and Sons captures a generational clash that threatens the traditional way of life in Russia, while introducing the then-chic philosophy of nihilism to the broader public.

72. A Thousand Splendid Suns, by Khaled Hosseini. Full review. Hosseini’s second book wasn’t quite the tear-jerker that his first was, but still had power in its subtlety, with the occasional burst of drama to keep you alert.

71. Moll Flanders, by Daniel Defoe. Another straight narrative without breaks, Moll is a picaresque novel and a twisted morality tale that follows a woman of uncertain scruples through her entire life, from her birth in a prison to her life as a prostitute to her eventual rise to wealth.

70. The Adventures of Roderick Random, by Tobias Smollett. An early and now somewhat-overlooked picaresque novel by one of the first great novelists and translators in the English language.

69. Watership Down, by Richard Adams. I struggled a little bit with this one; it’s a children’s novel, but it’s not. It’s more of a modern epic, a fable about a warren of rabbits who find their home threatened by human development, with one rabbit emerging as a hero through his own wiles and personal growth. The book is so good that it violates two of my core rules, that a book with a map or with a glossary should be avoided.

68. Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston. Criminally overlooked for decades, Eyes has become a classic in the growing canon of African-American literature. Its use of dialect cleared the path for Alice Walker and the grandmaster of the genre, Toni Morrison.

67. Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley. One of the leading dystopian novels with Orwell’s 1984, which is coming up on this list. Huxley’s depiction of a world overrun by technology was both prescient and paranoid, and perhaps rings more true than Orwell’s work given subsequent developments.

66. Monarch of the Glen, by Compton Mackenzie. Full review. Brilliantly funny. Currently out of print in the U.S., although it remains in print in England.

65. The Big Sleep, by Raymond Chandler. Chandler is half of the pair of leading lights of the hard-boiled detective genre, and The Big Sleep was his best work, with sleuth Philip Marlowe as the pensive star, with dry wit and filled glass and a very clear moral compass.

64. All the King’s Men, by Robert Penn Warren.Full review. The fictionalized story of the rise and fall of Huey “Kingfish” Long, told almost as the backdrop for the story of the narrator, political crony Jack Burden.

63. The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, by Muriel Spark. Full review. A novel of feminism, of religious ideologies (and fascism!), told with an unusual and effective back-and-forth narrative style and a dose of humor.

62. The Day of the Locust, by Nathanael West. A scathing indictment of early Hollywood culture and its pernicious effects on those who chase its rainbows.

61. Henderson the Rain King, by Saul Bellow. Far more enjoyable than the self-loathing of Herzog, Henderson employs humor and a touch of the absurd to explore the meaning of life and one über-successful yet spiritually unfulfilled man’s search for it in the hinterlands of Africa.

Filed Under: Literature Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,
→ June 23, 2008
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The Klaw 100, part one.

Part two (#80-61)
Part three (#60-41)
Part four (#40-21)
Part five (#20-1)

I’ve pointed you to many lists of great books – the Novel 100, the Modern Library 100, the Radcliffe 100, the Bloomsbury 100, and the TIME 100, all of which have become reading lists for me. I thought it would be fun to put together my own greatest books list. This is the Klaw 100.

My qualifications for assembling such a list are scant. I estimate that I’ve read somewhere between 400 and 500 novels in my life, but can’t say I’ve even reached 70 out of 100 on any of the greatest-books lists I cited above. I’ve never read War and Peace, Ulysses, or The Grapes of Wrath. I hated Moby Dick and A Farewell to Arms. I started The Ambassadors and sold it after fifty fruitless pages. I can’t say this is a greatest books list. It is, however, my greatest books list.

My criteria are wholly subjective. The primary criterion is how much I enjoyed the book, accounting for more than half of the “score” I might give each book if I was inclined to go to that degree. I also considered the book’s literary value, and its significance in the annals of literature, whether by its influence, critical reception, or the modern perspective on the book. There is nothing on here I don’t like.

There are only three items on this list that run beyond 1000 pages, one of which is a series, and another is two books that I combined into a single entry. The third is the longest single book I’ve ever read, although that was originally published as two volumes itself. By and large, the one hundred books listed here are highly readable, accessible even to the casual reader.

I did omit works of primarily popular fiction, even ones I enjoyed, so there is no Harry Potter and no Jasper Fforde. I slipped P.G. Wodehouse in there, since his works have influenced at least two generations of writers and performers, and there are four or five works on there that might straddle the line between popular fiction and literature. You’ll also notice the absence of some works of undeniable literary importance that I either haven’t read or just flat-out didn’t like. I make no apologies for these omissions.

The bottom line: My list, my call.

I’ll post a spreadsheet with the entire list after the last post in this series on Friday. For now, we start with the first twenty, #100-81.

100. A Hero of Our Time, by Mikhail Lermontov. Lermontov’s only novel – he was killed in a duel shortly afterwards – follows its antihero, Pechorin, on several pseudo-adventures in his quest to avoid boredom. One of the earliest nihilists in literature, Pechorin was a controversial character in his time, and his loose moral compass remains shocking.

99. Silas Marner, by George Eliot. Eliot, the pseudonym of Mary Ann Evans, wasn’t known for her brevity, but this work is both brief and beautiful. Marner is a religious dissident who is ostracized from his community and retreats into a hermit-like existence until a foundling appears at his door. He takes her in and raises her, rediscovering his own humanity in the bargain.

98. The Man Who Was Thursday, by G.K. Chesterton. A suspense story with strong Catholic overtones, Thursday tells of a government agent’s attempt to infiltrate a ring of anarchists, only to find that no one is quite what he seems.

97. The Life of Pi, by Yann Martel. A brilliant book with a bit of a twist at the end. Is it allegory? Magical realism? A comment on the human ability to cope with unspeakable tragedy? A testament of faith? All of the above?

96. A Room with a View, by E.M. Forster. The only Forster novel I’ve read and enjoyed, probably because it’s not such a complete downer as his other novels. It’s a straight romance, but also a commentary on the dated mores that still ruled the Edwardian era in England.

95. The Man in the High Castle, by Philip Dick. I’m no expert on science fiction; my knowledge of that genre is limited to Asimov, Dune, one or two books by Heinlein, and Philip Dick. I doubt anyone could top this work, however – an alternate history where the United States has lost World War II and been occupied by the victorious Axis powers. The novel’s structure is unusual, without a single, defining plot thread, but is worth the extra effort required to decipher it.

94. Germinal, by Émile Zola. Full review. An angry novel of social outrage and individual tragedy.

93. The Conformist, by Alberto Moravia. A dark psychological novel that’s not well known in the U.S., The Conformist tells the story of a man pushed along by forces beyond his control, all while struggling with his own lack of emotional responses to major events.

92. Nervous Conditions, by Tsitsi Dangarembga. The debut novel by a Zimbabwean playwright, Nervous Conditions might be the best work ever written about the plight of women in even the “developed” parts of Africa, as they have to deal simultaneously with traditional and modern pressures in their lives.

91. The Reivers, by William Faulkner. Criminally overlooked today by most Faulkner readers, The Reivers won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1963 and is Faulkner’s most accessible and light-hearted work. It’s a comedy set, as always, in Yoknapatawpha County, focusing on three ne’er-do-wells who steal a car, consort with prostitutes, race a horse, and try to get ahead by any means.

90. The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Arthur Conan Doyle. The grand-daddy of all mysteries, and the only full-length novel featuring Sherlock Holmes, Hound is as good a mystery as you’ll find, with Holmes at his brilliant and smarmy best.

89. Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro. Full review. Ishiguro’s romantic tragedy within a dystopian alternate reality is imperfect, but the societal aspect is powerful and incredibly disturbing.

88. Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy. Too long by half, but it’s still the archetype of the ruined-woman genre that became a frequent theme in literature later in the 19th century.

87. Native Son, by Richard Wright. Perhaps the American equivalent to Germinal for its sheer anger and social commentary, Native Son is the story of a black man who is hemmed in by white society and whose culpability for his crimes may not entirely be his own.

86. The Riddle of the Sands, by Erskine Childers. In writing the first spy novel in 1903, Childers was also calling for Britain to ramp up her naval presence to prevent a potential invasion by Germany, which seems prescient given later events. Childers himself was executed during an Irish uprising in 1922, leaving Riddle as his only novel.

85. Kafka on the Shore, by Haruki Murakami. Full review. Not Murakami’s best, but still strong, with the same immersive, dream-like atmosphere as The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. It’s a story of a search for identity and meaning, told through two narratives headed for an inevitable intersection.

84. Right Ho, Jeeves, by P.G. Wodehouse. I’m not sure how to choose any single Wodehouse novel, or where to rank them on this list. I’ve read nearly all of the Jeeves novels and am hard-pressed to pick a favorite, so I’ve chosen this one, which also made the Bloomsbury 100. Describing the plot is pointless; the joy is in the telling.

83. Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain. Not really my favorite Twain book – that would be The Prince and the Pauper, a late cut from this list – but Huckleberry Finn is one of the few legitimate contenders for the appellation of The Great American Novel, a comedy, a drama, and a stinging social commentary all rolled up into an adventure story to appeal to the kid in every reader.

82. The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, by John Le Carré. A seminal spy novel, but also a character-driven drama, one in which loyalties are uncertain, and so are fates. Impossible to put down, and not laden with all kinds of technobabble to try to distract the reader from a thin or implausible plot.

81. Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe. In praise of economic man. Crusoe finds himself stranded on a Caribbean island and must find a way to survive, never giving up and in fact finding God during his time in solitary. One caveat: Defoe wrote without chapter breaks, which makes finding stopping points a little tricky.

Tomorrow: #80-61.

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→ June 22, 2008
→ By

The Klaw 100…

…starts on Monday.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With:
→ June 21, 2008
→ By

The question of the day?

What is the Klaw 100?

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With:
→ June 21, 2008
→ By

Radio today.

I’ll be on ESPN Radio at 10:25 am today, then on our Pittsburgh affiliate at 10:40 am.

Filed Under: Appearances
→ June 20, 2008
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The Assistant.

Bernard Malamud’s The Assistant, part of the TIME 100, tells the story of a drifter, Frank Alpine, who shows up mysteriously at a failing grocery store in a declining neighborhood in Brooklyn before World War II. The store is run by Morris Bober, a sixty-year-old Jew who appears unable to catch any sort of break in life. Morris wants to be able to provide enough for his daughter to be able to attend college instead of working in a clothing store, and to see her marry well, preferably to the law student Nat Pearl, but at least to a young Jewish man. Frank ends up becoming Morris’ assistant when the owner takes a fall and can’t work.

Of course, the daughter, Helen, ends up developing feelings for Frank, the dark and brooding type strip-mined by Hollywood in the last few decades. Frank, always coy about his past, is left to consider his options: make a clean break by owning up to his history, or blowing a potentially good situation and leaving town after a few months, which is the pattern of his life to date.

The Assistant is understated, although I’m not sure whether it’s fair to call it dull. Malamud’s prose moves despite his use of the broken English of Jewish immigrants from the early 20th century, and there’s enough “action” (although much of it comes in the form of words) to keep you turning the pages. But by the time you reach the end and look back on what actually took place, it doesn’t add up to much. Yet at the same time, it’s not a detailed character study of Frank, nor is it a comment on the plight of immigrants who saw their neighborhoods begin to rot from under them. If anything, the lead character in the book is Judaism, or perhaps Jewish-ness as a cultural rather than religious identity. Perhaps if you grew up Jewish, it would resonate more strongly than it did with me.

Next up: A rarity for me, a re-read. I first read Henry Fielding’s Joseph Andrews in the same college class that introduced me to The Master and Margarita, but I didn’t care for it and forgot pretty much everything about it. About two years ago, I tackled Fielding’s magnum opus, Tom Jones, and loved it, so I thought I should give Joseph another shot.

Filed Under: Literature, TIME 100 Tagged With: , ,
→ June 19, 2008
→ By

The Next Food Network Star.

Anyone else watching The Next Food Network Star? I finally caught this week’s episode – it didn’t record Monday, long story – so I figured I’d throw some thoughts out there.

First, the format: The show is little short of a hazing. The contestants are asked to do some ridiculous things, like cooking brunch on a moving train or throwing together a potato dish that is “personal” in thirty minutes with zero advance notice. The connection between the tasks and an actual cooking show is tenuous at best.

Also, there is way too much crying. Stop crying. All of you.

As for the contestants, they’ve whacked some pretty clear not-going-to-win-anythings so far, although they still have some serious weeding to do before they get down to the legit contenders. Here’s who remains after Jeffrey – whose delivery is all wrong for TV, and whose mouth appears to naturally form a frown, even when he’s smiling – was eliminated in week 3, ranked from worst to best:

7. Nipa. Pro: Sounds like she can actually cook. Con: Her range is limited to Indian cuisine. She never smiles. She’s not inventive in her cooking. And if she’s not a wicked little witch, she should sue the show’s editors for making her look like one. The whole took-all-the-cayenne thing? If I was Aaron, I would soak Nipa’s entire wardrobe in cayenne water … and her sheets too.

6. Lisa. Pro: Appears to have some solid food ideas and be willing to go outside the box; she’s got a reasonably well-articulated culinary vision. Con: The vision doesn’t always sound appealing. Incredibly weird looking. Squints when she talks to the camera. Has a nose ring.

5. Jennifer. Pro: Big on comfort foods, which are always marketable, and she wants to keep it kid-friendly/family-focused, which is also a great niche. Con: Totally boring on camera. Mashed potato pizza is a disgusting idea, too.

4. Adam. Pro: High-energy. Camera likes him. Into guys’ food (his dishes in week three were bacon cheese fries and, in the “make your own jarred product” contest, a barbecue rub). Referenced Alton Brown in this episode. Con: Dorky, but maybe in a passable way. Served raw food each of the first two weeks. Not sure he’s much of a cook.

3. Kelsey. Pro: She’s very cute. High-energy. Pretty good food concepts, although I can’t figure out why she thought she could cook a gratin in 30 minutes. Con: Comes across as too polished, on which the judges really hammered her this week. No one is going to tune in to see a cute girl cook if she’s fake.

2. Shane. Pro: I think this kid – he’s 19, the youngest ever on TNFNS, apparently – can really cook. He’s good-looking and the camera likes him. Con: Very unpolished, and gets nervous easily; I think both of those can be fixed with training. Tried to do vichyssoise in 30 minutes without stock, which was just a bad judgment call.

1. Aaron. Pro: Can flat-out cook; he’s won plaudits for everything he’s made on the show, and his ideas are rock-solid. Also seems to get time management. Very charismatic; the camera loves him and he presents well. Con: His delivery could use some polishing, and he can trip over his words sometimes, but that’s very fixable. He’s my pick to win.

Filed Under: Cooking, Food, Media Tagged With: , ,
→ June 19, 2008
→ By

Starbucks (and chat).

There will be a KlawChat today at 1 pm EDT.

When Starbucks first introduced their “Light Note” blends a few years ago, my father-in-law – who, like me, prefers coffee that threatens to dissolve your spoon – referred to them as “coffee for people who don’t like coffee.”

Having tasted Starbucks’ new Pike Place Roast, I wish he had saved the quip, because I don’t know if I’ve ever had a cup of coffee that tasted less like coffee than this crap.

Starbucks apparently decided that they were losing too much coffee business to Dunkin Donuts (which I believe is now the nation’s #1 purveyor of coffee) and McDonald’s (which makes a surprisingly drinkable if anonymous cup of joe), so they decided the best thing to do was to piss off all of the people who went to Starbucks for a stronger, more distinctive brew and offer a dull, flavorless, inoffensive coffee instead. Go to any Starbucks after 11 am or so and you’ll only have Pike Place as an option; they won’t brew a fresh pot of their “bold” coffee after 11 am or noon, depending on the store.

I’m not the biggest Starbucks partisan around, mind you. I think the “Charbucks” nickname is earned, as they overroast their beans, and their espresso is totally undrinkable. They brag about the roasting dates for their coffees, but those dates are usually ten to fourteen days in the past, which makes the coffee stale in my book and unusable for espresso. But I’ll take a cup of slightly burned Sumatra or Kenya, both of which have distinctive flavors unique to their growing regions, over the bland, slightly muddy taste of Pike Place. In the meantime, there’s a Peet’s not too far from my house if I’m desperate and don’t want to brew my own, although it’s more likely that I’ll just stick to my Nilgiri tea in the morning instead.

TIME‘s James Poniewozik more or less agrees with me. Consumer Reports didn’t hate it or love it; they agree that it lacks complexity but complimented its “smooth” character. If I want smooth, I drink tea.

Filed Under: Food Tagged With: ,
→ June 17, 2008
→ By

Equipping a kitchen on the cheap.

Stumbled across this year-old article from the New York Times on equipping a kitchen for under $200. It does start with two assumptions that won’t hold for all readers: Relatively basic cooking plans (including little to no baking) and access to a restaurant-supply store. But it’s a useful reminder that what Bed Bath & Beyond wants to charge you isn’t necessarily a fair price.

On the plus side, he nabs a chef’s knife for about $10, a sheet pan for under $6 (then he says it’s not ideal for cookies – I only use “half-sheet pans,” lined with Silpats, for cookies), various useful and inexpensive gadgets, and a 14-inch stainless steel pan with steep sides for $25. He gets a decent-sized Hamilton Beach food processor for $60, which is insanely cheap, since Cuisinarts (they did invent the device) run $150-200 for similar sizes. He recommends a Microplane grater, although he then claims that box graters aren’t used much any more. (Bzzt! But thanks for playing!) His knife collection is simple: chef’s, paring, bread.

On the minus side, his pots are mostly aluminum, which I find is less effective than cast-iron or stainless steel at heat retention or diffusion. (Copper is best, of course, but it’s ragingly expensive.) There is also the potential health concern about cooking acidic foods in aluminum, although that may be much ado about nothing. He buys a “coffee and spice grinder” for $10, which I’m sure is good for spices and lousy for coffee, and he doesn’t mention that you can’t use it for both. He claims that a standard blender is more useful than an immersion blender, which isn’t the case in my kitchen. He also recommends the purchase of a whetstone to keep your knives sharp, which is a terribly bad idea unless you want to buy a new knife every year or so.

Where he really got my dander up was his list of ten things you really don’t need. The problem is that he’s assuming that you, the reader, are a moron. He disses the microwave – great for reheating, but also for quick melting or for warming up liquids to go into risotto or other grain dishes. He says of the stand mixer:

Unless you’re a baking fanatic, it takes up too much room to justify it. A good whisk or a crummy handheld mixer will do fine.

I use my stand mixer for cookies, bread doughs, cake batters, meringues and egg foams, whipped cream, and brownies, at the least. You try to knead a bread or pizza dough with a handheld mixer. So does making bread or cookies make a person a “baking fanatic?” I doubt it.

On the boning knife:

BONING/FILLETING KNIVES Really? You’re a butcher now? Or a fishmonger?

Everyone should at least buy poultry on the bone, and knowing how to butcher a chicken or duck is both a useful skill and a way to save money and get more out of what you buy. (Poultry bones make a great and highly versatile stock.) Whole Foods sells 3-4 pound chickens, formerly known as broiler-fryers, for about $2 a pound; the cheapest boneless, skinless chicken breast they sell goes for $5 a pound, and you don’t get the bones or the delicious dark meat. If the author is telling people how to cook on the cheap, at least to some degree, then dissuading people from doing any of their own butchering is counterproductive.

Last up, the stockpot:

The pot you use for boiling pasta will suffice, until you start making gallons of stock at a time.

Here’s a tip: Use your stockpot to boil pasta. That’s what I do – it’s lightweight, so it’s easy to carry when it’s full of water. True, it doesn’t have the matching strainer, but it was under $20, and the point here is to save some money, right?

I like his advice to seek out restaurant supply stores, ignore brand names, use what the pros use in their restaurants and not what they use on their cooking shows, and stop worrying about looks when utility is what matters. But some of his specific choices … well, they wouldn’t go very far given the way I cook.

Filed Under: Cooking, Food Tagged With: , ,