Taste: The No.1 Sunday Times Bestseller

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The book started off well enough with memories of his mother in particular who cooked up a storm and growing up in an Italian American family. Many memories made me laugh because I also grew up in an Italian American family. In my family, however, my father worked two jobs to make ends meet and when things got tough, monetarily, my mom went out to work at a bank and rose in ranks as the head teller. Those were difficult times as we hardly saw our parents but my mother always, always “cooked up a storm” for her family. We travel to Italy when the Lira was still used and his family lived there for a short time before returning to the USA for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Incredibly vague name of red sauce or even, Gravy”. Do not call sauce, gravy. Gravy is completely different and what Brits use over our Sunday roast Dinners. Thursday: Veal cutlet sandwich or wedge with a small amount of butter and lettuce. This was in the days of affordable veal. Stanley Tucci puts the sexy in Sixty! He's that handsome, bald, Italian-American guy, with the devilish smirk, who you just know he's thinking about something good. Filming in the UK, and later moving to (and currently living in) London, Tucci describes a some food in the UK as such:

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Fortunately, things worked out in the end, but after two years of surgery, chemo, pain, and a long recovery. Now that I spend most of my time in London, I must admit celebrating American Independence Day is a tad uncomfortable for one fairly obvious reason: the colonists won and the British lost. (I know the war was a long time ago, but I never quite know how to celebrate that victorious day here without feeling like I’m rubbing it in some Brit’s face—like my in-laws.) However, during the Obama administration, my family and I were fortunate enough to be invited to two July Fourth fêtes at Winfield House in Regent’s Park, the home of the American ambassador. These were lovely, casually posh daytime affairs for expats (a nice word for immigrants) and their families, complete with American military bands, jazz singers, and all the traditional American foods one could eat. How ironic that in England, of all places, on these two occasions I would be reminded of all the positive aspects of this important American day. Taking part in joyous celebrations of American democracy on foreign soil made me long for a time in my youth when the sausage and peppers of Italian immigrants sat peacefully on the grill alongside their American cousins, the hot dog and the hamburger. Also absent from “Taste” is a section of photo color plates that seems to be the usual stylistic formula for celebrity memoirs. Although this isn’t a hugely tragic departure; it would have been nice.

It was ‘mostly’ enjoyable listening to Tucci share family stories, his mother’s amazing cooking, “memory meals”, recipes, his Italian culture and heritage, his growing up in New York, celebrity anecdotes, and his stark funny-bone personality. He describes himself as a “food nerd”, and his memoir literally portrays his “life through food”. In the book, Mr. Tucci shares his considerable knowledge of food, cooking, and also of drinks by including many of his favorite recipes. I’ve copied several of them, and am planning to try making them! My name is Larry and I love food. I mean, seriously. I love to read about it, I love to cook it, and I seriously love to eat it. Most of the memoirs I’ve read have been written by chefs or have been about people’s love of food, so when I saw Stanley Tucci (one of my favorite actors) had written this book, I jumped on it like I would a buffet. (Hey, #fatboysgottafat.) Italy is a very small country, really, in comparison to so many, but it’s so diverse geographically. And the influences over centuries and millennia are staggering: from the Middle East and North Africa, from Spain, from Germany, from France, from Austria and Hungary, from Greece. It’s incredible. All of those cultures have influence—yes, on politics, and, yes, the genetic makeup of Italians, but on the food, too. So, the food in the Veneto, where we’re going next, is completely different than the food in Sicily, and that makes sense because of topography, but also because of who ended up there and who ended up there. I’ve made notes about food over the years, and I thought that maybe I would compile them into a book of observations and musings. It was suggested to me, by the publishers, that I write a memoir, and I thought, Well, is that right? Is that interesting? But they said to give it a try, so I did, and, as I started writing it, it started to make sense.

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He shares memories of some of the best (and worst) meals he’s ever had, memories of discovering new restaurants while filming or traveling or vacationing. He also discusses the shared love of food with both his late first wife and his current wife and their children, and one of his greatest fears when battling his own cancer diagnosis. (Plus, recipes. I’m in heaven.) Not only is this an autobiography but it’s a dip into history, cuisine of Italian-Americans and Italy, Stanley Tucci cooking, Stanley Tucci family and a glimpse into Stanley Tucci cookbook recipes. LOVED THIS!

During summer vacations we followed the same routine like crazed ants at an endless picnic. I don’t remember anyone in our neighbourhood ever going on an extended summer vacation, so we all just hung around together for those two humid months, going from one dwelling to another, eating our own and each other’s parents out of house and home. I found summer vacations so joyful. The days were long, allowing us to play outside until nine p.m., at which point we would have already negotiated a sleepover at one or another of our homes so that we might never be parted even in slumber. Summertime also brought my favourite holiday, besides Christmas: Independence Day, also known as the Fourth of July. And yes, I’d have sex with him. But I’d be just as happy to bring him home, only to marvel at the way he fills a room with style and grace and good smells. Monday: Meatball wedge. As we had meatballs in a slow-cooked, homemade, ragù with pasta for Sunday dinner, this lunch was a natural choice. The fruit and the dessert were standard fare, but it was the sandwiches that were the marvel, and oftentimes made me the envy of my friends.My crush on Stanley Tucci isn’t primarily sexual. It’s more about the delights he whips up in the kitchen, his well-tailored ensembles, and the way his entire body so precisely flits along the surface of every changing emotion. No, for some unknown reason, I feel more at home in the Italian Alps than I do in the brutal heat of Puglia. I like brisk autumns, snowy winters, rainy springs, and temperate summers. The change of seasons allows for a change in one’s wardrobe (I’m sartorially obsessed) and, most important, one’s diet. A boeuf carbonnade tastes a thousand times better in the last days of autumn than when it’s eighty degrees and the sun is shining. An Armagnac is the perfect complement to a snowy night by the fire but not to an August beach outing, just as a crisp Orvieto served with spaghetti con vongole is ideal “al fresco” on a sunny summer afternoon but not nearly as satisfying when eaten indoors on a cold winter’s night. One thing feeds the other. (Pun intended.) So a visit to Iceland to escape the gloom of what is known in London as “winter” was an exciting prospect. However, my greatest concern, as you can probably guess, if you’re still reading this, was the food.” My bad I guess because I was hoping for more funny similarities about Italian Americans growing up! In this book, Tucci shared memories of growing up in an Italian family that shared an immense love of food, and how his preferences were much more expansive than those of his peers, yet he still craved the junk foods of his youth.

Taste was a delightful memoir by Stanley Tucci of his life through food beginning with growing up in an Italian family in upstate New York with many traditions surounding food. He lovingly describes how when he was growing up, his mother spent most of her waking time in the kitchen, which she does to this day. In Tucci's words, cooking for her is at once a creative outlet and a way of feeding her family well: I listen to 4-5 audiobooks a month on Audible. If you sign up here, you can get 30 days free trial on Audible which gives you 1 credit to get any Audiobook you want and access to hundreds of free material including audiobooks and podcasts.

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The sharing of recipes. The friendships and bonding that occur over shared meals. The conversations. The moments you will never forget. I’d like him even more if he’d help me get ready for the Met Ball and give me that tough lovin’ I need to survive my mean boss at Runway magazine, so I can ultimately become a journalist at the New York… My favourite travel aspect of Stanley Tucci My Life Through Food is the story of Italy’s people, history and food including saliva-inducing recipes and Italian cooking rules such as: There are recipes! Many recipes. For pasta of various types. For ragout. For meat. For fish. Two very different styles of roast potatoes. He talks about the history of the Martini (yes, it must have a capital M). There is a lot of talk about cheese. I looooove cheese. My stomach rumbled.