Between Meals: An Appetite for Paris

• Paperback - 09 September, 2004 - North Point Press
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• By: A J Liebling
• ISBN: 086547236X

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About this book

A man of Rabelaisian appetite, with the exquisite palate of the true gastronome and the literary flair to match, A.J. Liebling (1904-1963) was a formidable eater and a remarkable man, and his nostalgic recitation of his years and meals in Paris is a pleasure to read, dream on, and drool about.

Liebling treasured a good appetite as a prerequisite for writing about food, as his accounts of substantial meals (two portions of cassoulet, one steak topped with beef marrow, and a dozen or so oysters, for example) attest. For the poised, precise, literary, and humorous flavor of his writing, you need only crack open the book--any page will do. Liebling recounts how to dine superbly without being lead astray by too much money, and he digresses magnificently on the evils of abstemiousness ("No sane man can afford to dispense with debilitating pleasures; no ascetic can be considered reliably sane"). In this age of diets and pragmatic health care, it's refreshing to read such an inspired and inspiring ode to pleasure. As a means of savoring a love affair with Paris, sparking an interest in a trip to France, restructuring your priorities for the trip you've already planned, or gearing up on the flight over for the gastronomic debauches to come, Liebling is unsurpassed. --Stephanie Gold

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Reviews by readers

Makes you long for the good old days...

This is a fantastic book, but if you've never cracked The New Yorker open before, you might not like the style. Very in the moment and tongue in cheek, Liebling is a master wordsmith leaving no offense done to him by the onset of modernity unheckled. Some of the greatest tidbits come when he derrides the famous Michelin Star rating system for French restaurants, now a standard that chefs have literally killed themselves over - Liebling reminds you that its just a rating from a TIRE manufacturer and that he feels it marked the decline of real French cooking.

I read passages of this book out loud to friends and family, most notably the ones dealing with the immense amounts of food, and always got a laugh. This is not a book dealing with the upper crust of French high society, but rather a street wise, in the guts little tome that entertains and educates - though sadly, it is unlikely one can find the Paris that Liebling describes anymore.

A Taste for Life.

I have to say first of all that I'm a sucker for all of the "Paris in the early part of the twentieth century" literature. I love Celine and Miller, but my favorite was Hemingway's A Moveable Feast. Well, Between Meals is no A Moveable Feast but it certainly is a high quality read that I can unquestionably recommend to you.

Liebling, make no mistake, is a top notch writer and his sentence structure, use of metaphor, and style have much to offer aspiring wordsmiths. He has an eye for the essential and this is particularly true if you're at all like me as far as food is concerned. Liebling is a true gourmand and, even though I am completely unlearned and unappreciative in regards to fine dining, I still enjoyed his narration and memories of that splendid age.

The best of these essays is "Passable" where he recalls his old girlfriend from his student years. Liebling informs us that he does a poor job in reconstructing her but his description of their romance is quite compelling. I loved that essay just as I did the one on Mirande. This is a world long gone but we're fortunate that books like this are still in print. Reading it will give you a snapshot of beauty that will hang like a Renoir in the corridors of your mind.

reading between the meals

This book was strongly recommended to me by a friend who is from Europe and is very discerning when it comes to American writers. I'm glad that I have it.

While not nearly as zany or as challenging as Kerouac or Burroughs, this work, at its best, is rich, insightful and intensely funny: "What he called his pipes("ma tuyauterie"), being insufficiently excercised, lost their tone, like the leg muscles of a retired champion. When, in his kindly effort to please me, he challenged the escargots en pots de chambre, he was like an old fighter who tries a comeback without training for it."

The language is elegant and piercing, despite what the hypercritics have said; and the work stands as an opus to epicurean bliss.

It's well worth the read before, after, or in between the wonderful meals!

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