If you’re a fan of the hot stuff, you’ll definitely want this deep-diving work of natural and food history.
A richly illustrated guided tour of chile peppers and their uses in cuisines around the world.
Food historian DeWitt, the author of more than 50 books and a leader in the study of chiles, has an obvious love for food plants laden with capsaicin—and, he notes early on, “all capsicums are New World plants.” More specifically, he cites plant geographer Barbara Pickersgill, who locates the ground zero of chile peppers near the area where Paraguay, Argentina, and Brazil meet. Birds distributed those peppers widely, eating the fruits and then expelling the seeds, so that they “spread all over South and Central America long before the first Asian tribes moved east and settled the New World.” When those tribespeople made their way to Mexico, the feast began, and wherever chiles grew, DeWitt writes, they became essential components of Indigenous diets—and in some places even units of currency. The author explains the bewildering variety of chiles, from the tiny berry called the “chiltepín” to the much larger jalapeño. “Because chiles cross-pollinate,” writes DeWitt, “hundreds of varieties of the five domesticated chile species were developed by humans over thousands of years in South and Central America.” From there, they traveled first to Spain and Portugal, where they figure only incidentally in the local cuisine; eastward to places such as Hungary, which took its time to develop the fiery paprika that is now central to that nation’s diet; and East Asia, where peppers entered the cuisine of Szechuan and other regions. Indeed, writes the author, “Bangkok is…in the running for the title of hottest city in the world. This city is populated not only by the chile-loving Thais and Chinese but also by other ethnic groups that use them heavily in their cuisines: East Indians, Pakistanis, and Malays.” The text is handsomely designed and typeset and—beg pardon—peppered with superb photography and, better still, lots of recipes.
If you’re a fan of the hot stuff, you’ll definitely want this deep-diving work of natural and food history.Pub Date: Sept. 15, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-8263-6180-6
Page Count: 376
Publisher: Univ. of New Mexico
Review Posted Online: June 15, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2020
The lessons to draw are obvious: Smoke more dope, eat less meat. Like-minded readers will dig it.
The chef, rapper, and TV host serves up a blustery memoir with lashings of self-help.
“I’ve always had a sick confidence,” writes Bronson, ne Ariyan Arslani. The confidence, he adds, comes from numerous sources: being a New Yorker, and more specifically a New Yorker from Queens; being “short and fucking husky” and still game for a standoff on the basketball court; having strength, stamina, and seemingly no fear. All these things serve him well in the rough-and-tumble youth he describes, all stickball and steroids. Yet another confidence-builder: In the big city, you’ve got to sink or swim. “No one is just accepted—you have to fucking show that you’re able to roll,” he writes. In a narrative steeped in language that would make Lenny Bruce blush, Bronson recounts his sentimental education, schooled by immigrant Italian and Albanian family members and the mean streets, building habits good and bad. The virtue of those habits will depend on your take on modern mores. Bronson writes, for example, of “getting my dick pierced” down in the West Village, then grabbing a pizza and smoking weed. “I always smoke weed freely, always have and always will,” he writes. “I’ll just light a blunt anywhere.” Though he’s gone through the classic experiences of the latter-day stoner, flunking out and getting arrested numerous times, Bronson is a hard charger who’s not afraid to face nearly any challenge—especially, given his physique and genes, the necessity of losing weight: “If you’re husky, you’re always dieting in your mind,” he writes. Though vulgar and boastful, Bronson serves up a model that has plenty of good points, including his growing interest in nature, creativity, and the desire to “leave a legacy for everybody.”
The lessons to draw are obvious: Smoke more dope, eat less meat. Like-minded readers will dig it.Pub Date: April 20, 2021
ISBN: 978-1-4197-4478-5
Page Count: 184
Publisher: Abrams
Review Posted Online: May 5, 2021
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2021
This is our life, these are our lighted seasons, and then we die. . . . In the meantime, in between time, we can see. . . we can work at making sense of (what) we see. . . to discover where we so incontrovertibly are. It's common sense; when you-move in, you try to learn the neighborhood." Dillard's "neighborhood" is hilly Virginia country where she lived alone, but essentially it is all those "shreds of creation" with which every human is surrounded, which she is trying to learn, to know — from finite variations to infinite possibilities of being and meaning. A tall order and Dillard doesn't quite fill it. She is too impatient to get about the soul's adventures to stay long with an egg-laying grasshopper, or other bits of flora and fauna, and her snatches from physics and biological/metaphysical studies are this side of frivolous. However, Ms. Dillard has a great deal going for her — in spite of some repetition of words and concepts, her prose is bright, fresh and occasionally emulates (not imitates) the Walden Master in a contemporary context: "Trees. . . extend impressively in both directions, . . . shearing rock and fanning air, doing their real business just out of reach." She has set herself no less a task than understanding emotionally, spiritually and intellectually the force of the creative extravagance of the universe in all its beauty and horhor ("There is a terrible innocence in the benumbed world of the lower animals, reducing life to a universal chomp.") Experience can be focused, and awareness sharpened, by a kind of meditative high. Thus this becomes somewhat exhausting reading, if taken in toto, but even if Dillard's reach exceeds her grasp, her sights are leagues higher than that of Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift from the Sea, regretfully (re her sex), the inevitable comparison.
Pub Date: March 13, 1974
ISBN: 0061233323
Page Count: -
Publisher: Harper's Magazine Press
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 1974
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