From Publishers Weekly
These 14 essays-which first appeared in the New Yorker and other magazines but have been reworked to form a cohesive whole-nearly all grow out of Trillin's concept of a "register of frustration and deprivation." Recorded are the delicacies that have not taken root in his otherwise fertile home turf of Greenwich Village. For those better acquainted with Trillin's droll humor than his culinary predilections, it should be noted that Trillin is no snooty foodie. His abiding enthusiasm for various dishes is matched by a disdain for "review trotters," and the objects of his affection are more homey than rarefied: Louisiana boudin, Santa Fe posole, pimientos de Padron and Kansas City barbecue, for instance. About these products, he crafts writing that meanders but always finds its center. The deadpan wit, deprecating himself as much as others, remains at a slow simmer throughout. Just as the theme of longing is in danger of becoming repetitive, Trillin throws in a couple of pieces that break the mold but not the rhythm of the book. For Trillin's many fans, it has been too long since a new collection of his food writing has made its way to market-1984's Third Helpings was the last volume strictly devoted to his gastronomic exploits. However briefly, this should sate their longings. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From Booklist
Trillin's latest title anthologizes his essays on food that appeared chiefly in the New Yorker. A dedicated Manhattanite, Trillin good-humoredly measures all life experiences by the standards of his own tiny neighborhood. Bagels not meeting ideals inaugurated by Gotham delis become objects of derision. Nevertheless, Trillin appreciates certain other inventions from the world's culinary traditions. He waxes poetic over Galician peppers, then searches Ecuador tirelessly for the perfect ceviche, only to discover a fondness for a rare high Lenten fish and vegetable soup. He combs New York's Chinatown, seeking his favorite dim sum and other gustatory delights. This leads Trillin to a reverie on a Prague Chinese restaurant serving up "Roast Pork Knee," available in two sizes. New York's outer boroughs disport themselves as sources of even more exotic ethnic foods. A Kansas City upbringing tempers Trillin's New York focus, compelling him to acknowledge that at least some American locale beyond New York, Louisiana, and California counts, even dimly, as "civilization." When he's back home, Trillin's prose turns rhapsodic as he describes the hundreds of dishes served in a hole-in-the-wall eatery whose owner is phobic about publicity. Fans of Trillin and his peripatetic appetite will gobble up their master's offerings. Mark Knoblauch
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved


Review
“Calvin Trillin is to food writing what Chaplin was to film acting.”
—Business Week

“Tasty morsels . . . will have the reader gnawing the book’s cover for lack of the perfect bagel . . . or the succulent boudin.”
—The Dallas Morning News

“One of the most brilliant humorists of our times . . . Trillin is guaranteed good reading.”
—Charleston Post and Courier

“Trillin never loses track of the ultimate meaning of food—that it connects us to those we care about the most deeply.”
—The New York Times Book Review

“Trillin is the guide on a magical mystery tour punctuated by eccentric characters made memorable by his deft touch.”
—The Denver Post



Review
?Calvin Trillin is to food writing what Chaplin was to film acting.? ?Business Week

Praise for Tepper Isn?t Going Out

?Tepper Isn?t Going Out is good for smiles, guffaws, and sometimes laughter that brings tears.? ?The Boston Globe

Praise for Calvin Trillin?s books on eating

?Marvelously funny and horrifyingly mouth-watering." ?Rolling Stone

?You literally laugh out loud.? ?Chicago Tribune

?Under cover of a mania for dim sum, spaghetti carbonara, and pit barbecue, he is actually a superlative prose stylist, an inimitable humorist, and an absolutely first-rate people writer.? ?The Washington Post Book World


From the Hardcover edition.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Calvin Trillin has never been a champion of the “continental cuisine” palaces he used to refer to as La Maison de la Casa House—nor of their successors, the trendy spots he calls “sleepy-time restaurants, where everything is served on a bed of something else.” What he treasures is the superb local specialty. And he will go anywhere to find one.

As it happens, some of Trillin’s favorite dishes—pimientos de Padrón in northern Spain, for instance, or pan bagnat in Nice or posole in New Mexico—can’t be found anywhere but in their place of origin. Those dishes are on his Register of Frustration and Deprivation. “On gray afternoons, I go over it,” he writes, “like a miser who is both tantalizing and tormenting himself by poring over a list of people who owe him money.” On brighter afternoons, he calls his travel agent.

Trillin shares charming and funny tales of managing to have another go at, say, fried marlin in Barbados or the barbecue of his boyhood in Kansas City. Sometimes he returns with yet another listing for his Register—as when he travels to Ecuador for ceviche, only to encounter fanesca, a soup so difficult to make that it “should appear on an absolutely accurate menu as Potage Labor Intensive.”

We join the hunt for the authentic fish taco. We tag along on the “boudin blitzkrieg” in the part of Louisiana where people are accustomed to buying boudin and polishing it off in the parking lot or in their cars (“Cajun boudin not only doesn’t get outside the state, it usually doesn’t even get home”). In New York, we follow Trillin as he roams Queens with the sort of people who argue about where to find the finest Albanian burek and as he tries to use a glorious local specialty, the New York bagel, to lure his daughters back from California (“I understand that in some places out there if you buy a dozen wheat-germ bagels you get your choice of a bee-pollen bagel or a ginseng bagel free”).

Feeding a Yen is a delightful reminder of why New York magazine called Calvin Trillin “our funniest food writer.”

SYNOPSIS

Calvin Trillin has never been a champion of the ￯﾿ﾽcontinental cuisine￯﾿ﾽ palaces he used to refer to as La Maison de la Casa House￯﾿ﾽnor of their successors, the trendy spots he calls ￯﾿ﾽsleepy-time restaurants, where everything is served on a bed of something else.￯﾿ﾽ What he treasures is the superb local specialty. And he will go anywhere to find one.

FROM THE CRITICS

The Chicago Sun-Times</i>

Nobody else can write about food with the good cheer of this Manhattan sophisticate, who can wield an anchovy fork with brio and skill at the Four Seasons but really prefers tucking into the good messy stuff of Flyover Land. — Henry Kisor

Publishers Weekly

These 14 essays-which first appeared in the New Yorker and other magazines but have been reworked to form a cohesive whole-nearly all grow out of Trillin's concept of a "register of frustration and deprivation." Recorded are the delicacies that have not taken root in his otherwise fertile home turf of Greenwich Village. For those better acquainted with Trillin's droll humor than his culinary predilections, it should be noted that Trillin is no snooty foodie. His abiding enthusiasm for various dishes is matched by a disdain for "review trotters," and the objects of his affection are more homey than rarefied: Louisiana boudin, Santa Fe posole, pimientos de Padron and Kansas City barbecue, for instance. About these products, he crafts writing that meanders but always finds its center. The deadpan wit, deprecating himself as much as others, remains at a slow simmer throughout. Just as the theme of longing is in danger of becoming repetitive, Trillin throws in a couple of pieces that break the mold but not the rhythm of the book. For Trillin's many fans, it has been too long since a new collection of his food writing has made its way to market-1984's Third Helpings was the last volume strictly devoted to his gastronomic exploits. However briefly, this should sate their longings. (May) Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

Library Journal

This collection of food essays by humorist, novelist, and satirical poet Trillin (Tepper Isn't Going Out) centers on culinary oddities around the world. Trillin makes semireligious pilgrimages to remote places in search of the best examples of local cuisine, be it pumpernickel bagels or Ecuadorian ceviche, usually prepared by ordinary folks in neighborhood restaurants. He's an adventurous chowhound with a taste for the unusual and makes wry observations on culture and food with his trademark wit and gentle sarcasm. He avoids the "Zagat-clutching foodies" but meets quite a few like-minded individuals in his travels. Several of these essays have previously appeared in The New Yorker and Gourmet magazine, but they benefit from being collected together, as his gustatory to-do list of favorite dishes ultimately comprises a "Register of Frustration and Deprivation." When he finally does get to satisfy one of his longings, he writes, "My intention was simple. I was going to eat enough of such food to hold me for a while." Recommended for all public libraries. [Previewed in Prepub Alert, LJ 1/03.]-Julie James, Thomasville P.L., NC Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews