Fans pick 100 books like Garlic and Sapphires

This book is, in my opinion, the best travelouge ever. She has been my hero since I read her For Richer or Poorer and saw what she said about my fellow countrymen: ''They were stronger in their defencelessness than the various khaki-clad people who overrun them'. She got straight to the core of the matter. And how true about being overrun: happening, again, right now, early 2021.

Her Travels with Myself and Another is my favorite among her works. It is full of powerful insight and absolutely great writing whatever she was describing, be it meeting Chiang Kai-shek (she was not impressed) or Zhou Enlai (she was) or people in the street

Naomi Duguid has been coming to Burma since the restrictive 1980s. In one interview she said this about her MO: ''I would go to smaller places and hang around, sipping a tea in tea shops, pedaling around on an old bicycle, taking photos. .. in the amazing markets. And gradually, after several days, I would become a familiar sight so that people would start to connect with me, open up a little....''
For me, it is a rare and precious record of the cuisine of our races, their lives, and cuisine. And for others, I am sure it's about discovering new worlds.

Always eloquent, insightful and at times, funny...such as how a mispronounced word in the tonal languages of the region might end in shared hilarity or bloodshed, Janet Brown describes her travels in Thailand and other SE Asian countries with warmth and joy. Her slow pace exudes sympathy, understanding, and enjoyment of the people and their lifestyles.

She said she learned from great travel writers that 'curiosity and observation can make a walk around the block become a journey', and I felt I was right by her side, enjoying the mood, the people, and especially, the food.

Having lived in Vietnam in the 1990s for four years, the author longed to return and did so ten years later with her photographer sister Julie. Together with her old friend Huong, they travelled to seven cities to record regional dishes. They enjoyed eating haute cuisine and home-cooked meals, and at small eateries that are each famous for a specialty so, at times, they were racing through thick traffic on motorbike taxis to two places for the day's lunch.

Kim gives a clear sense of the vibrant environment and the people's lives, their strength, and friendliness. One could almost taste the fresh and light cuisine through the innovative words of Kim and Julie's wonderful photos.

Chef Rene Redzepi from the three-Michelin star restaurant Noma in Copenhagen is internationally recognized for his unique reinterpretation of Scandinavian cuisine and for using locally sourced ingredients. Redzepi also focuses on fermentation and experimenting with using as much of the plants, meat, and fish as possible. Jeff Gordiner spent four years spent traveling with René Redzepi and Hungry takes us along on their journey from Mexico to Australia, to Norway, and Denmark, and offers a glimpse into the mind of this amazing and complex chef who has changed the way we look at fine dining. This is a must-read to better understand the creative process in modern restaurant culture.

I love Ruth Reichl's writing style. I read through this book like tasting a fine wine, one phrase at a time. I picked up a copy at a tiny bookstore on Cape Cod, when I was writing my own book. I loved Reichl’s way of telling stories. Her book is the story of the behind-the-scenes look at the famous Gourmet magazine and its transformation into a cutting-edge publication under Reichl’s leadership. Reichl was the restaurant critic for The New York Times when Conde Nast recruited her to be the editor-in-chief of Gourmet. In her book, Reichl shares vivid anecdotes of people she’s encountered during the golden age of magazine publishing before the internet turned the magazine world upside down. A must for any food lover.

This was a gift from a friend, and I absolutely love it. From the jacket copy: “It is the riveting portrait of a gay man struggling to overcome the reverberating shame and guilt of a long-buried childhood secret.” On the very first page he includes his ode to a sandwich, written when he was a child. It starts: "The BLT is the most perfect sandwich. The bacon brings it salt and the rich taste of pork. The tomato is sweet and juicy…”  Labrano eventually became a famous food critic, and his memoir is peppered with fabulous descriptions of food and wine. His description of a dinner in Val-les-Bains in the Ardèche region of France is downright inspiring. A great read!

This sweet gem is like a salve for any food-loving reader’s soul. I devoured it on a stormy weekend, curled up on my couch with a cup of tea and it has stayed with me ever since. The story is set in the 1960s and written entirely in letters between an aspiring food writer in LA and a food columnist in the Puget Sound. Who knew that you couldn’t find garlic in the grocery store back in the 60s or that a simple gift of saffron would lead to a lasting friendship. Love & Saffron is a tender novel about friendship and how food connects us. I have literally given this book to all of my friends. It will warm your heart and leave you hungry for more. 

This is a memoir that took me straight back to those beige culinary days of my Geordie upbringing, when the best thing about Autumn was rice pudding and the comfort food of the eighties. Grace writes with charm and wit, interspersing her career highs and lows with some wonderfully warm moments of nostalgia. Very moving and will make you reach for a can of Heinz tomato soup.

Looking back across six decades, MFK Fisher, one of the most astute and evocative travel and gastronomical authors ever to put pen to paper, recalls the year when everything for her was new: France, Europe, marriage, food, culture. Based in provincial Dijon, Mary studied French, shopped in the open markets, learned to cook, and jotted down astute observations concerning everyone she met, while her husband wrote his dissertation. My first encounter with Tours, in 1979, reminds me of Fisher’s encounter with Dijon in 1929. Like her, I was warmed by the joy of discovery, the sense that every stone and leaf, every living thing that I encountered had layers upon layers of meaning, and it was my job to uncover some of them, revealing meanings that no one had seen before.