‘These
dishes
were like
songs you
couldn’t get
out of your
head.’
JEFF GORDINIERWriting about food can be tricky,
especially when its ingredients are
unfamiliar to many readers. But in
Hungry, Gordinier invokes such playful
and lush prose that the scents of mole,
chiles and even lingonberry juice waft off
the page. Drinks like the pre- Columbian
tejate are described in terms of their most
accessible textures (in that case, a frothy
meringue), and unexpected pairings are
refined to their elemental flavors. He tells
of a dish from his first meal
at Noma, before it closed—
sea urchin and hazelnuts—
by conjuring the utterly
unintimidating experience of
eating butter on saltines.
As the journey progresses,
Redzepi opens pop-ups across
the map and runs into unex-
pected obstacles. The recipes
aren’t right, the pressure’s too
high. Key investors question
their involvement. Gordinier’s accounts
of these stumbles give the book a measure
of tension. But the real drama of Hungry
lies in a paradox its author probes about
the art of cooking. Red zepi’s plates re-
mind Gordinier of music—but a thought-
fully crafted dish can’t be replayed. Food
exists in a liminal space. It is created to be
eaten, and, in a way, to be destroyed. for more Than 13 years, noma was
a mecca for foodies. The Michelin-
starred Copenhagen restaurant boasted
glowing reviews and frequently topped
best-of-year lists, making it nearly im-
possible to score a reservation. Spe-
cializing in food with a Nordic flair, it
inspired eateries around the globe and
made a star of chef René Redzepi.
Then, in 2015, Redzepi announced a
move that stunned the culinary world:
he revealed he was going
to close Noma and travel
the globe in search of fresh
inspiration. Redzepi planned
to reopen Noma (and did,
in 2018—it placed second
on the 2019 World’s 50
Best Restaurants list) but
promised the new version
would be different.
In his new book, Hungry,
food journalist Jeff Gordinier
follows Redzepi’s unconventional path
to reinventing the best restaurant in the
world. When he met Redzepi in 2014,
Gordinier himself was in need of some
reinvention, as his marriage was on the
brink of collapse. The book traces his
four years traveling with the chef, as the
latter searched for new flavors in cities
like Sydney, Tulum and Mérida.NONFICTION
When the cook escapes the kitchen
By Annabel GuttermanFICTION
A daughter’s
diaryThe narrator of Courtney
Maum’s third novel,
Costalegre, is desperate for
her mother’s attention. It’s
1937, and 15-year-old Lara
Calaway is moping around the
southwestern coast of Mexico.
Her mother Leonora, a wealthy
modern-art collector, has
invited several offbeat artists
to stay at their house.
The novel, which is
structured as a collection of
Lara’s diary entries, draws
inspiration from the fraught
relationship between art
collector Peggy Guggenheim
and her daughter Pegeen.
She writes of her anxieties
stirred up by the guests,
and how she longs to see
her father and brother at
home in Europe, where World
War II is beginning to appear
on the horizon. If at moments
Costalegre pokes fun at
a spoiled teen asking her
mother to notice her, at others
it’s a poignant illustration of
the outsize role mothers can
play in their daughters’ most
formative years. In one diary
entry, Lara lists the words,
both bizarre and moving, she
associates with Leonora:
she is both “the pink hole in
her pillow”and “the largest,
biggest hat.”
The plot picks up when
a Dadaist sculptor joins
the group and immediately
makes Lara feel seen. As
Lara begins to understand
her place not only in her
mother’s world but also in her
own, Maum crafts a timeless
narrative about the impatience
and confusion that come with
TADDEO: J. WAITE; BOOKS: KIM BUBELLO FOR TIMEgrowing up. ÑA.G.
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