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Best-selling author
William Alexander
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One of the most delightful history books of the season
William Alexander . . . has done for his favorite subject what Edward Gibbon did for the Roman Empire. By the time you finish his book, you'll marvel at how much he managed to squeeze into 300 pages.—Air Mail [Read the full review]
A transcontinenal treasure hunt
How did this "odious and repelling-smelling berry" make its way into America's hearts and onto Italy's spaghetti? The writer William Alexander follows the winding path toward the answer in what resembles a transcontinental treasure hunt...[His] spirit of curisosity proves an asset to "Ten Tomatoes That Changed the World" -- the writer's reactions and discoveries often seem to be simultaneous with those of the reader...—The Wall Street Journal [Read the full review]
A thrilling history
Alexander's narrative delivers a story thats as informative as it is funny and filled with awe. . . Food lovers will savor every bite.—Publishers Weekly
Eccentric, informative, and thoroughly enjoyable
In this rollicking account, Alexander investigates how the tomato moved from being ignored and disdained to being popular all over the world. The Spanish conquistadors encountered it when they were demolishing the Aztec civilization, and they took it to Europe, where the first samples ended up in Italy. Then, notes the author, it was ignored for centuries, in part because it was related to poisonous nightshade. However, since it was grown as a decorative plant, when people began to try it as food, there were plenty of tomatoes to be had. Italy, especially Naples, looms large in the tomato story, and Alexander spends time in the region tracing the historical connections. "In Italy, when tomatoes were first consumed," writes the author, "it was by the wealthy, and as an exotic curiosity, much like adventurous eaters today might try fugu, the potentially deadly puffer fish, while visiting Japan." One of the tomato's primary uses, ketchup, was a classic American invention, although it began as a way to use the scraps left after canning. Alexander cheerily recounts numerous tales of the tomato's development, which includes a cast of colorful inventors, marketers, and a few fraudsters.—The Wall Street Journal [Read the full review]
He throws himself into learning to speak French with Gérard Depardieu-like gusto
How old is too old to learn something new? Is there anything to be done about a memory that's beginning to sputter? Bon courage, mes amis. As Alexander discovers, French is the least of it when you've reached late middle age. But he never gives up. He hurls himself at French again and again almost like a cartoon character who, smacking up against a slammed door, slides to the floor in a puddle of humiliation.—The New York Times Book Review [Read the full review]
Highly readable
His quixotic resolve to transcend his inherent competence recalls the participatory journalism of George Plimpton, the lanky patrician whose unlikely stints in football and boxing lent nobility to failure. Like Plimpton, Mr. Alexander presents himself as an apprentice, but the reader quickly discovers he is also a master teacher.—The Wall Street Journal [Read the full review]
One of America's funniest writers...has done it again
If you're not familiar with his earlier works, you still have amazing treats to enjoy. As a summer gardener, I couldn't get enough of his first book, The $64 Tomato. Alexander wasn't so hard on himself when he wrote his second book, 52 Loaves: A Half-Baked Adventure, but it certainly demonstrated his perfectionist side...Which takes us to Alexander's current book...In a surprising conclusion to Alexander's always engaging narrative, he confesses to unexpected benefits from spending so many hundreds of hours attempting to master French during the past year. Trés, trés bien!—Counterpunch [read the full review]
Self-deprecating, remarkably devoid of vanity, Alexander willingly sacrifices our admiration and earns our affection in the bargain
His timing and his delivery are flawless. Introducing an account of his efforts to repel "Bambi and family" — efforts that revolve around an electric fence — he writes, "Before discussing the sometimes grisly details of this battle, I should point out, in the spirit of full disclosure, that I have historically had a poor rapport with animals, all animals: domesticated, wild, just about any kind but grilled." ...Ask your bookseller for a copy of "The $64 Tomato: How One Man Nearly Lost His Sanity, Spent a Fortune and Endured an Existential Crisis in the Quest for the Perfect Garden," in which William Alexander documents his own worsening symptoms [of Obsessive Gardening Syndrome] in hilarious detail.
—New York Times Magazine [Read the full article]
A genuinely humorous book...a paean to the homesteader who never gets written about
Written by a curmudgeonly amateur who endearingly aspires to gentleman-farmer status, "The $64 Tomato" is a domestic picaresque, with the author undertaking the emotional and physical journey of a lifetime that somehow never extends beyond the electric fence of his back garden in the Hudson Valley. As he attempts to carve out a 2,000-square-foot vegetable garden from a sloping field that is frozen solid in winter and unbearably hot in summer, plagued by all manner of bugs and critters, and tended by a string of eccentric and incompetent employees, William Alexander rapidly realizes that it is a battlefield out there in which only the fittest survive -- and that includes the owner-gardener....—The Washington Post [Read the full review]
Alexander's breathless, witty memoir is a joy to read. It's equal parts fact and fun
There's not much to a loaf of bread, right? Not so. For William Alexander, there are issues of the correct crust-to-crumb ratio, the right water content for the dough, the precise amount of rising time, kneading time, baking time, and temperature. You get it.
Alexander's breathless, witty memoir is a joy to read. It's equal parts fact and fun as he visits a yeast factory, enrolls in a bread-baking seminar in Paris, and wins second place in the New York State Fair bread competition, Category 02, Yeast Breads. He also peppers his narrative with insights into the historical significance of the staff of life.
—The Boston Globe [Read the full review]
The world would be a less interesting place without the William Alexanders who walk among us
Consider the subtitle of Alexander's "52 Loaves: One Man's Relentless Pursuit of Truth, Meaning and a Perfect Crust." Anyone who bakes bread at home knows there's no thing as a perfect crust. Sure, we come close -- so close -- which is what keeps us kneading together flour, water, salt and yeast again and again, and keeps our family within arms' length of the cutting board.Alexander's muse is a loaf of bread he'd tasted years earlier in a restaurant in New York City. "The dark brown, caramelized crust gave a satisfying crackle when you bit into it -- not a crunch, but an actual crackle -- and managed to defy physics by remaining both crispy and chewy at the same time," he wrote. This bread had "an incredible perfume that, cartoonlike, wafted up from the table, did a curl, and, it seemed, levitated me from the table." Most telling, though, was Alexander's utter surprise; he'd never imagined that bread could be this good.
Yet, with a hubris that is both aggravating and charming, he rises from the table vowing to learn how to make such a loaf himself. After several failed attempts, Alexander decides to take a more focused approach, baking the same recipe for peasant bread once a week for a year, until he achieves a bread worthy of levitation. His journey, as well as his job as a writer, takes him to a yeast factory, a flour mill, a Parisian bread class, Moroccan back alleys, and a monastery in Normandy.
He even plants, harvests, winnows, threshes and grinds his own wheat, most of this with grim humor. Alexander's willingness to portray himself as somewhat hapless is what saves this book from self-absorption, given that its premise is witnessing him bake the same loaf of bread week after week.
The final result of his journey looks and tastes very much like success, but its culmination is as much spiritual as edible. Alexander's pursuit may be bread, but anyone in pursuit of an ideal will probably recognize his musings on whether it's possible to re-create a memory, much less seek perfection. When those around him question his obsession, you find yourself agreeing with them -- while also wondering how exhilarating it might feel to be so passionate about something.
The book concludes with four recipes for "the best bread you've ever tasted."
Week 1 starts now.
—Minneapolis Star Tribute