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Saturday, May 4, 2019

Book Review-Buttermilk Graffiti by Edward Lee


I became aware of Edward Lee as a contestant for the Top Chef show on Bravo, the Austin Texas edition. I identified with him because we are both of Asian descent, and we don’t see too many Asian folks on shows like Top Chef. In addition to that connection, I noticed he is from Louisville, a city I travel to quite often, at least twice if not three times a year. So, I kept track, hoping that he would open up his own restaurant, I wanted to taste what I saw.

Over time, I had eaten at three of his Louisville restaurants: 610 Magnolia, Milkwood, and Whiskey Dry, I enjoyed all of them and it made me a big fan of his culinary skills. When his first book: Smoke and Pickles came out, I was a bit more cautious, I was not a regular reader of cook books and I wasn’t about to start. I have read other books from famous chefs, Anthony Bourdain being one, but his books were different, they had a point of view and they were not all about the recipes.

It was with this mindset that I happened upon this second book of his while I was visiting my favorite bookstore in Louisville, Carmichael Books. After flipping through the book, I realized that there was much more to the man’s writing than that of a chef discoursing on cooking, taste, food, and the food culture. He was in fact, much like Anthony Bourdain than I had realized.  In addition, I figured that there is a certain amount of predestination involved since I was in a Louisville landmark thumbing through the book written by another Louisville landmark. So, I bought it.

This book is divided into sixteen chapters, each have a story or two to tell, some times they coalesce into a tidy narrative, mostly they don’t, and that is the beauty of Lee’s story telling: nothing is intentionally meant to be completely self-contained, everything is a bit messy, and that is its charm. He goes off and wanders these United States as someone who is not completely assimilated, someone who’s difference is written on his face. He goes into places where he is not completely welcomed, he is an outsider wherever he went. More to the point, he asks a lot of question, as a writer should, and he often invites suspicious scrutiny from those very people that he most wanted to have a conversation with. He does persevere, and he does have fascinating conversations, about the food of course, but also about his subjects lives here in America, about how they got here, what they think, how they feel about issues that are important to their daily lives. The chapters always end with his own interpretations of the recipes he speaks about in the body of the chapters, some are significantly different while others are tweaked, according to how he feels.

More important than the reportage of the stories is his own assessment of the stories, he speaks plainly and bluntly about what he experienced, there is always an elegiac feel to his prose. He conveys the sense of the immigrant experience both in terms of the fulfillment that comes from being satisfied with where they ended up yet also with a sense of sadness regarding the loss over the thing that defines the speaker’s past and culture. But, there always the description of the food, he is blunt and honest about the food he tastes, and he will call out a bad interpretation, but when he goes into the food, he is all at once evocative and descriptive. The only thing that he was not able to evoke is allow us to actually smell and taste the food, but he comes awfully close. He also does not insist on authenticity, because authenticity is not real to him, people will cook and eat differently as they evolve within this American stew, only the quality matters.

The stories are told as a main piece that brings us to social and cultural points, points that are made subtly but clearly. It gives us a sense of what the feelings are with the people telling Lee the stories but are not overpoweringly obtrusive.

I enjoyed the food writing, the travelogue, the stories, as well as the thoughtful reflections. It made me appreciate the breadth and depth of a meal, it could be just a satisfying meal, which is all that we ask, while it can also be a cross cultural exploration, if you converse, reflect, and question your experience.

Lee always went to the small, inconspicuous places in search of honest foods that reflects the cultures that are the most representative of the subject in each chapter, so it was with great excitement that I discovered that I had actually been to one of the places he focused on. Shapiro’s in Indianapolis is not small, nor is it inconspicuous, it is an icon in south Indianapolis. I happened to eat there while I was on my way home. It was a delicatessen in the finest sense of the word, and as I read Lee’s account of his visit, I could visualize the scene as I was there myself. I of course excitedly tweeted the picture of my meal at Shapiro’s to Lee, a reader lives for those little moments.

Finally, as he was winding down his book, he took us into his personal reflections about his life, his wife, his daughter, his Korean background and family. It is a very important point for me, it took a certain amount of courage to expose his thoughts, his fears, and his past history to the readers; and the humanity of what he had to say made the book that much more welcoming and honest. Going back to our shared Asian background, I felt his battles with the parental and cultural expectations. I was able to appreciate the frustrations and fears coming from the younger Edward Lee even though he rebelled against those expectations and took the road less traveled, while I took the well-trodden familiar path, only to be rebelling in my later years.  The last few chapters, in speaking of those challenges in his life as well as speaking about his adopted hometown of Louisville, was a very nice ending, it made the book journey more meaningful and the stories already told that much more appreciated.

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