BURN THE PLACE

A chef tells how she overcame family dysfunction and substance abuse to become the proprietor of a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Regan grew up a tomboy on an Indiana farm “dropped smack in 10 acres of cornfields, wild edibles, and Native American burial grounds with pulsating ghosts.” From a mother who saw “food [as] love,” she learned how to cook and can from scratch. From her father, whose mother owned a small cafe, she learned how to roast meat on homemade grills and forage for wild mushrooms. For most of her childhood, she lived with her colorful, raucous family, watching her parents grow apart, threaten divorce, and then come back together again. Relief at having her family back came at the cost of leaving the farm she loved but that her mother no longer wanted to maintain. Adolescence proved to be as painful as it was forgettable: “High school sucked a small flaccid dick.” At first, Regan, who questioned both her gender identity and sexuality, tried to fit in. Then she rebelled, drinking, crashing cars, and going to jail twice before graduating high school and eventually going to live in Chicago. Up-and-down relationships and a string of restaurant jobs helped her survive the difficult years after her parents’ divorce and her alcoholic sister’s untimely death in a Florida jail. Wanting to do more with her life than “[wake] up in cells or beds or other places I didn’t want to be,” the author launched a successful restaurant business that she initially ran from her own home, featuring dishes she not only created, but for which she also foraged ingredients. The basic narrative elements that comprise Regan’s story—a misfit hero fumbling and bootstrapping her way to culinary fame—are compelling. However, the temporally fractured nature of the story makes it difficult to follow, and the unevenness of the writing—sometimes lively, sometimes messy and unconsidered—makes for less than satisfying reading.

An interesting life rendered in a flawed manner.