Stalking the Green Fairy: And Other Fantastic Adventures in Food and Drink

I have been a long-time fan of great American food writing. I remember, as a child, the rapt attention with which I devoured Laura Ingall Wilder's recollections of cherishing a single Christmas orange and adding carrot juice in freshly churned better to make its color golden in the wintertime, and growing up reading the remarkable writings of the greats such as M.K. Fisher (Art of Eating) and the delightfully acerbic Anthony Bourdain (Kitchen Confidential). I think James Villas escaped my awareness thus far because he falls between the two clusters of fame for a young reader like me: not yet posthumously renowned as the likes of MFK, yet no longer contemporary and trendy like Bourdain. So it was doubly delightfully for me to stumble onto the latest collection of these wonderful food writing by Villas, and now I recognize him, properly, as the proud predecessor of straight-shooting, brilliant critics-among-us types that Bourdain represents so well for our generations today. I felt compelled to write this review because the first 1-star, negative review that appears below me does not do this book justice. He's far from insulting the average "Joe Schmoes" of America--as a matter of fact, his deep love for all things American and in particular the South seeps from practically every page of this book. He devotes a chapter each to deeply American peculiarities such as pimento cheese, Brunswick stew, and chowder , not to mention well-loved American dishes such as a well marbled, prime steak, all manners of cooking the hog, and remarkable resurgence of American micro-brews (accompanied by a connoisseur's reference list). And the chapter about Sam's Club? Contrary to the previous reviewer's impression that he was snubbing the Samsters, he, albeit sheepishly, admits that he is a proud card-carrier of Sam's Club, with a deep and abiding love for inhumanly large packages of peanut butter. He also includes fascinating side factoids that not many people would be privy to, such as the fact that he once watched Julia Child consume an entire package of Pepperidge Farm's Goldfish in one sitting like it was nothing. So much for gourmands. His chapter on "Frugal Gourmand" is particularly illuminating to those who ever wondered how all these food critics, by and large, manage not to explode into morbid obesity with all the dishes they must taste and review on a daily basis. As the jacket cover tells us, Villas is a living, breathing example of "Disciplined Hedonism" at best. I can't wait to get my hands on everything he's written! PS: The recipes (and the mouth-watering descriptions of them) alone are worth the price of this book.

This is the most recent work of culinary writing from James Villas, who was recently honored by `Bon Appetit' as Food Writer of the Year for 2003, an honor Jim richly deserves if only for the variety of his writings which include columns on food topics of general interest (this book, for example), cookbooks on classic American culinary subjects (`Biscuit Bliss' and `Crazy for Casseroles' for example), and memoirs (`Between Bites'). This is like having M.F.K. Fisher, Edna Lewis and Ruth Reichl all rolled up into one person.Jim Villas represents old school American culinary writing. He is as direct an intellectual descendent of James Beard as you are likely to find today. He was a friend and confidant of Beard, Craig Claiborne, and Richard Olney. He does have ties to recent trends and writings, as he is a good friends with Paula Wolfert and Jeremiah Tower. Unlike Beard, Villas does not limit his journalism to American cuisine, although his cookbooks are firmly rooted in southern American cooking, being a true native of North Carolina with a strong interest in all the traditional controversies over styles of barbecue, okra cookery, Brunswick stew, and iced tea. There is a fittingness between Villas' being a North Carolina reb (his word) and his conservatism regarding food.The most appealing aspect of his conserving attitude about food is his strong regard for tradition. In this regard, his writings in this book are very similar to the essays of John Thorne in that both are intent on calling a chowder only those things which contain traditional chowder ingredients such as salt pork and are made in the traditional manner, such as by using either biscuit or potato to thicken. The two authors both devote an essay to chowder, although typically, Thorne's essay is more scholarship and Villas' essay is more opinion. Many excellent culinary journalist / educators today can benefit from this kind of conservatism which calls a salad nicoise only those preparations which have some basis in traditional Provencal practice. I am often annoyed when, for example, Alton Brown gives an excellent exposition on a subject only to follow it with a recipe of, for example, something he calls panzanella salad, which has small resemblance to anything prepared in Italy.Some of Villas' most interesting targets for preservation of the established or recently neglected are iceberg lettuce, tuna fish canned in oil, and meat loaf. He recounts long battles over iceberg lettuce with Craig Claiborne and how some swells of modern cuisine are surprised on `rediscovering' the virtues of this very common, very economical product. One of Villas' bete noirs is the current rave over fresh tuna and the fact that, in his opinion, few people know how to properly cook tuna. Villas positively gushes over the virtues of a good meatloaf and gives evidence that many modern haute cuisine luminaries secretly crave this very American dish. At the end of many chapters on specific dishes, Villas provide