Status Updates From What She Ate: Six Remarkabl...

Family visited and I had the time of my life. Even superb books like this one pale by comparison.

I'm so grateful to you friends on Goodreads. You are a second kind of family to me. Wishing you a happiest yet kind of New Year.

Today I did almost no reading of books, almost no work, just visiting with family who are here from the West Coast, plus cooking and celebrating the goodness of close relationships.

Friends on Goodreads, I wish you that kind of happiness - whatever is your equivalent.

Libby took back the book. It was time.

Now I'll have to request it again. I sure will!!!!!!!

The connection between Eleanor Roosevelt and the food movement of feminists at Cornell University -- so important for transforming her into a woman who could find her place in the world.

And not just, as noted by Laura Shapiro, dress up and conduct small talk for the rest of her life.

I'm learning more than I knew I didn't know, regarding Eleanor Roosevelt. In the process my respect for Laura Shapiro is growing fast.

She conveys so much, so naturally. Magnificent transitions in her writing, for example.

Laura Shapiro's summary of Eleanor Roosevelt's life sure rings true for me. Didn't she have the mother-in-law from Hell!

Golly, I thought I knew all about Eleanor Roosevelt by now, particularly after reading the definitive biography of her by David Michaelis.

Yet I learned more about Eleanor's fluency in French that I learned about why she served the most dreadful meals ever tasted at the White House.

Reflecting on the leadership of Rosa Lewis.

* How she paved the way for female cooks to be treated with respect as chefs.
* Her nobility and philanthropy during World War I.

Worth admiring!

What did I never expect? The generosity, even philanthropy, of Rosa Lewis to all the soldiers she put up in her hotel, all the meals she gave them; a truly remarkable legacy of her beautiful character.

Rosa Lewis' saga turns tragic, in a humdrumly eccentric way. British fine dining, as she helped create it, turned to dust. So much was lost after the war.

At a time of foodie glamour and French culinary snobbery among the upper classes, she had no status, no cachet.

To paraphrase the author, French chefs didn't believe that any females could be good cooks, other than their own mothers.

Rosa Lewis' candid advice in media interviews, back in Victorian England, was so sensible.

"Let beef taste like beef."
"Let mutton taste like mutton."

Truth was stranger than fiction, and at least as fascinating to read about. The meals, the rules, the many-many snobberies among the social high rankers.

Much better to read about them, in all their stifling opulence, than to have been among them!

Laura has succeeded in helping me to understand Rosa Lewis, but hasn't managed to make me like her.

Rosa Lewis was a self-made woman, a chef. As described by Laura Shapiro was also relentless as an entrepreneur, and not overly truthful.

This won't be my favorite section of this book, despite being educational regarding social climbing before World War I.

But I can sure imagine a group of Chaucer's contemporaries, if they could read, would understand the Middle English perfectly. And thus could have spent a delightful evening reader Chaucer and chortling.

Oops, my finger slipped. I went out of Goodreads and the whole browser shut down.

It's a hassle to retrieve the unfinished comment. Now that my browser is working again, this was the gist. I find it hard to believe that anybody besides besotted Wordsworth sister Dorothy and friends who were hangers on of the famous poet would really have found it delightful to read Chaucer. But . . .

It did give me a giggle, reading Dorothy's diary entry about how she and friends sat around reading Chaucer!

We learn about Dorothy's last meal and final diary entry.

What pathos, reading about her deep love for her brother, famous poet William Wordsworth. No surprise, perhaps, she died very soon after he and his new wife returned home to live with her in tiny Dove Cottage.

And who would have guessed how badly these Wordsworths ate. Such as mutton broth for breakfast, with bread. Scarcely ever vegetables.

Maybe Wordsworth chose emotion recollected in tranquility because he never wanted to think about what he'd eaten the day before.

Who would have guessed that William Wordsworth's sister was sooooooo in love with her brother?