Food for the soul
Books read in a hammock, van, or on a beach this summer.
I’ve been stashing away books for summer, saving them for when time and space allowed. All foodie-related, of course—many memoirs, mostly nonfiction, naturally.
Reading these over a little Coromandel roadie felt so indulgent. Between hikes, swims, and many (many, many) 10/10 coffees, I dived into these books, immersing myself in other people's lives and minds through the lens of food.
A standout was Sam the Trap Man’s memoir. I knew it would be good, but it turned out to be exceptional. From the first sentence to the last, I was captivated by his honest tone, humour, and humility. His approach to raising kids, his connection to the ngahere (bush), his thoughts on community, conservation, and even ‘pests’ (he doesn’t use that label) is deeply informed and beautifully holistic. Well done, Sam. You absolute legend.
The Serviceberry – an Economy of Gifts and Abundance was grounding and inspirational. It’s a tiny book, just over a hundred pages, that you can easily read in an afternoon while lounging in a hammock under a pōhutukawa tree. (I took my summer break very seriously. Hammock reading was most essential.) Robin Wall Kimmerer is an Indigenous scientist and author whose books I treasure. The world feels more hopeful when she shares her wisdom. I read (or listen to) her book Braiding Sweetgrass every year, finding new layers of knowledge and poetic stories each time, as if I’m reading them for the first time. I honestly can’t recommend her work enough.
I’m still slowly sifting through Dispersals by Jessica J. Lee, which is an exploration of plants, borders, and belonging. I love a book that blends memoir, history, and relationships in unexpected ways. I’ve been dipping in and out of this one for the last couple of months, reading a few pages here and there, letting the stories digest. It’s real food for thought, this one.
Then finally, on the long drive home, winding along stunning (slightly dodgy) gravel roads hugging the coast, I listened to chef Ben Shewry’s Uses for Obsession. It was recommended to me by the incredibly kind and incredibly talented chef, Ethan Flack. This book made me feel better about my own obsessions—mainly food, fire, and smoke. I thought it would be a foodie memoir, an ode to ingredients and soil, which in part it was, but it turned out to be much more. Ben’s a feminist (believes in equality), an advocate for Indigenous cultures and foods, and his vulnerable stories made me respect him even more. He’s honest about his mistakes, his privileges, and his learnings. It takes a strong man to be sensitive, vulnerable, and willing to share his growth with the world.
With (almost) four books under my belt this summer and feeling oh-so replenished from a nature-filled roadie, it’s time to get back to work and dive into the tools. Which is why I find myself here, on substack, dipping my toes in these waters, ready to share my inspirations, recipes, and rambles with you.