This book reawakened a desire that I had all but forgotten. I would love to enter the Pillsbury Bake-Off. Heck, even some other cooking contest would likely suffice. But reading this book reminded me that I used to dream of what I would make for one of these competitions.
I had never read many memoirs. A few years back I read A Girl Named Zippy and enjoyed it. A couple of years later I picked up a sequel to it, She Got Up Off the Couch. About the same time I picked up Bitter Is the New Black. Shortly after that came Angela's Ashes. I was hooked on the memoir.
It's gotten to the point that I read almost as many memoirs as anything else. So when I saw this one, about a writer who also cooks, I knew I had to read it.
It was good. I was definitely drawn in, but I didn't feel the connection to Ellie Matthews that I so often feel to memoir writers. I think maybe she was a bit too much of the self-consciously unconventional west coaster for me. But I read it at the same pace I would read a James Patterson or Faye Kellerman book and almost the pace that I'd read a Lee Child. So I guess that means I enjoyed it.