When her mother passed along a cookbook made and assembled by her grandmother, Erica Abrams Locklear thought she knew what to expect. But rather than finding a homemade cookbook full of apple stack cake, leather britches, pickled watermelon, or other "traditional" mountain recipes, Locklear discovered recipes for devil's food cake with coconut icing, grape catsup, and fig pickles. Some recipes even relied on food products like Bisquick, Swans Down flour, and Calumet baking powder. Where, Locklear wondered, did her Appalachian food script come from? And what implicit judgments had she made about her grandmother based on the foods she imagined she would have been interested in cooking? Appalachia on the Table argues, in part, that since the conception of Appalachia as a distinctly different region from the rest of the South and the United States, the foods associated with the region and its people have often been used to socially categorize and stigmatize mountain people. Rather than investigate the actual foods consumed in Appalachia, Locklear instead focuses on the representations of foods consumed, implied moral judgments about those foods, and how those judgments shape reader perceptions of those depicted. The question at the core of Locklear's analysis asks, How did the dominant culinary narrative of the region come into existence and what consequences has that narrative had for people in the mountains?

When her mother passed along a cookbook made and assembled by her grandmother, Erica Abrams Locklear thought she knew what to expect. But rather than finding a homemade cookbook full of apple stack cake, leather britches, pickled watermelon, or other "traditional" mountain recipes, Locklear discovered recipes for devil's food cake with coconut icing, grape catsup, and fig pickles. Some recipes even relied on food products like Bisquick, Swans Down flour, and Calumet baking powder. Where, Locklear wondered, did her Appalachian food script come from? And what implicit judgments had she made about her grandmother based on the foods she imagined she would have been interested in cooking? Appalachia on the Table argues, in part, that since the conception of Appalachia as a distinctly different region from the rest of the South and the United States, the foods associated with the region and its people have often been used to socially categorize and stigmatize mountain people. Rather than investigate the actual foods consumed in Appalachia, Locklear instead focuses on the representations of foods consumed, implied moral judgments about those foods, and how those judgments shape reader perceptions of those depicted. The question at the core of Locklear's analysis asks, How did the dominant culinary narrative of the region come into existence and what consequences has that narrative had for people in the mountains?

This is the eighteenth volume of the ongoing series of papers and submissions to the Oxford Symposium on Food & Cookery, the longest running food history conference in the world. The subject this year is more peculative than is often the case and contributors have ranged widely over a topic which allows them to explore the sychological bases of food consumption and the development of cookery, as well as more obvious excursions down memory lane in pursuit of food and drink. There are upwards of 30 papers from food historians based in Britain, United States, Japan and the Far East, Australia, and Northern Europe.

These essays were presented at the seventeenth Leeds Symposium on Food History, of which this is the fourteenth volume in the series 'Food and Society.' Their common theme is the way in which we cooked our food from the medieval to the modern eras, most especially, how we roasted meats. The authors are distinguished food historians, mostly from the north of England. David Eveleigh discusses the rise of the kitchen range, from the 19th-century coal-fired monsters to the electric and gas cookers of the early 20th century. Ivan Day, in two essays, talks about techniques of roasting. In the first he tells of the ox roast - the open-air celebration with the cooking done on a blazing campfire. In the second he traces the history of the clockwork spit, the final, most domestic version of the open-hearth device that had been driven by dogs or scullions in earlier centuries. Peter Brears gives us the fruits of many years' involvement in the reconstruction of the kitchens at Hampton Court and other Royal Palaces in his account of roasting, specifically the 'baron of beef', in these important locales. The final two chapters discuss aspects of baking rather than roasting. Laura Mason tells of the English reliance on yeast as a raising agent - in the earliest times deriving it from brewing ale, and Susan McClellan Plaisted gives an account of running a masonry wood-fired oven in living-history museums in America, discussing the transmission of cooking techniques from the Old to the New World, and the problems encountered in baking a satisfactory loaf. The book is very generously illustrated, both by photographs of artefacts and reproductions of early prints and engravings that elucidate their purpose and function.

"NEW YORK TIMES" BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF "MY PARIS KITCHEN
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Like so many others, David Lebovitz dreamed about living in Paris ever since he first visited the city in the 1980s. Finally, after a nearly two-decade career as a pastry chef and cookbook author, he moved to Paris to start a new life. Having crammed all his worldly belongings into three suitcases, he arrived, hopes high, at his new apartment in the lively Bastille neighborhood.
But he soon discovered it's a different world "en France."
From learning the ironclad rules of social conduct to the mysteries of men's footwear, from shopkeepers who work so hard not to sell you anything to the etiquette of working the right way around the cheese plate, here is David's story of how he came to fall in love with--and even understand--this glorious, yet sometimes maddening, city.
When did he realize he had morphed into "un vrai parisien"? It might have been when he found himself considering a purchase of men's dress socks with cartoon characters on them. Or perhaps the time he went to a bank with 135 euros in hand to make a 134-euro payment, was told the bank had no change that day, and thought it was completely normal. Or when he found himself dressing up to take out the garbage because he had come to accept that in Paris appearances and image mean everything.
The more than fifty original recipes, for dishes both savory and sweet, such as Pork Loin with Brown Sugar-Bourbon Glaze, Braised Turkey in Beaujolais Nouveau with Prunes, Bacon and Bleu Cheese Cake, Chocolate-Coconut Marshmallows, Chocolate Spice Bread, Lemon-Glazed Madeleines, and Mocha-Creme Fraiche Cake, will have readers running to the kitchen once they stop laughing.
"The Sweet Life in Paris" is a deliciously funny, offbeat, and irreverent look at the city of lights, cheese, chocolate, and other confections.