I’m neglecting everything to read the new novel, The Cookbook Collector, by Allegra Goodman.
I’m only half-way through as I have read some lines and some sections more than once.
I saved this extract to share with you:
“Irrationally, he imagined her. Sadly, he despaired of having her. But this was not a question of pursuit. His fantasies were nurturing, not predatory. If he could have Jess, he would feed her. Laughable antique, confusingly paternal, he longed to nourish her with clementines, and pears in season, fresh whole-wheat bread and butter, wild strawberries, comte cheese, fresh figs and oily Marcona almonds, tender yellow beets. He would sear red meat, if she would let him, and grill spring lamb. Cut the thorns off artichokes and dip the leaves in fresh aioli, poach her fish — thick Dover sole in wine and shallots — julienne potatoes, and roast a whole chicken with lemon slices under the skin. He would serve a salad of heirloom tomatoes and fresh mozzarella and just-picked basil…”
Aha. Memories of Thomas Wolfe. I’m sure you will relish these exquisitely composed words as much as I am.
Jess, the character mentioned here, is a vegan!