book review: Hungry Monkey by Matthew Amster-Burton
For the record, I did not read Hungry Monkey: A Food-Loving Father’s Quest to Raise an Adventurous Eater by Matthew Amster-Burton just because Anthony Bourdain recommends it on the cover. I usually don’t even pay attention to cover blurbs, but should I ever write a food-related book, I do hope that Tony will at least read and like it. Granted, his over the top anti-vegetarian stance does get a little old, but I’ll forgive him this time (or, you know, millions of times).
Anyway, to the book in question. Amster-Burton, a food writer based in Seattle, tries to adopt that Bourdainian attitude now and then with snarky comments about locavores, eco this and that, organic food, and, yes, vegetarians… but he isn’t as successful with it. I think this is because he’s a nice person, and nice people just don’t do snarky very well. Fortunately, the majority of the book is about his cooking and eating adventures with his daughter, Iris. And the word “quest” in the subtitle is no mistake. This isn’t a how-to guide, though there are recipes at the end of each chapter. It is a funny book, but this is really a love letter – to food and to Iris. I love that.
Recently, after reaching the limits of the “one more drink of water” ploy for extending bedtime, Irit hit upon the cake hug. “I’m fixing you up a hug,” Iris told me. “It’s a cake hug. I’m putting in the flour and sugar and, uh, what else?” “Butter?” I offered. “Butter.” “Baking powder? Milk? Eggs?” Done. “Mixing it up. Bake bake bake. Ding! It’s ready. Now I’m putting on the whipped cream frosting and raspberry swirl.” Finally she toppled me over with a hug. “You didn’t eat the cake!” said Iris. “It’s on your left side.”
Something else I love about this book is that Amster-Burton doesn’t whine or adopt a know-it-all tone. This is refreshing. So many of the books I read by parents about parenting or kids are written by someone telling me I must do something a certain way or else, or a parent who is complaining about something (moms complaining about their partners, fathers complaining about their kids, etc.). This book, on the other hand, is by a guy who’s just a stay-at-home dad who loves his wife and his daughter and his food. There’s no pretense and, above all, no chauvinism. Consider this:
I don’t want to make too much of it… but there are issues associated with being a female cook that I will never have to worry about. Men hardly ever feel like they’re trapped in the kitchen turning out dinner for an ungrateful family, and they never worry about whether they will be considered bad feminists if they love to cook. I’m simultaneously grateful that I don’t have to worry about these things and depressed that anyone has to.
And in case you were wondering about that hyphenated name, it seems that Amster is the last name he was born with. I haven’t looked into this, but I’m guessing he and his wife combined their last names. Stefano would die and then roll over in his grave before going that route (not that I’m not proposing Kinbar-Grace, anyway). But the book isn’t really about all that. I just picked up on that bit and liked it. A parent without a bone to pick (pun intended) in their book is rare. Too rare.
If you’re a parent and a foodie, I have no doubt you’ll enjoy this read. If you happen to be interested in feminist/non-chauvinist parenting, or at least involved fatherhood, you’ll like it all the more. And I’ll venture to say that if you’re a parent and a foodie in Seattle, this is an essential read. Seattle was just as important a character as Matthew or Iris in this story. So glad I read this one.
Many thanks to Pille of the fabulous Name-Nami blog for lending me this book. I think K will like it. And sorry for keeping it for so long!
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