Maman’s Homesick Pie: A Persian Heart in an American Kitchen
Donia Bijan
Category: Nonfiction:
Memoir: Food and Cooking; Middle East; France; Living Abroad
Synopsis: Bijan
recounts her journey from Iranian childhood to American chef.
Date finished: 10
July 2013
Rating: ***
Comments:
I was disappointed with this book. I had high hopes for it;
after all, it was about three topics I love to read about: food, Iran, and
mothers. I even enjoyed the writing sample I’d read online before purchasing
it. I’m not sure why it was such a disappointment. The best reason I can come
up with is that Bijan didn’t know what she wanted her book to be about. It
covered food, becoming a chef, leaving Iran, becoming an American, Le Cordon
Bleu & France, her father’s disappointment in her becoming a “cook,” and
her relationship with her mother. That’s too many things to cover well in a
250-page book. And the book suffered for it. I think she’d intended the book to be about blending her life
experiences on, and the flavors of, three continents, but she never quite
brought it together.
I loved her mother. She was very much like the mother in The End of YourLife Book Club. When the revolution happened in Iran in the late
1970s, the Bijan family was on vacation in Spain. They could not return to Iran
or they’d be executed because of the mother’s work in the parliament prior to
the revolution. Whether this is truth or overblown, the family makes its way to
America, where the mother embraces her new circumstances while the father
wallows in resentment, and after failing the exam that would allow him to
practice medicine in the U.S., his anger and resistance eats him whole.
So, the mother (and father, too) fascinated me. But the
parts about the author seemed glib and boastful. Perhaps this owes itself to
nothing but her lack of time spent fleshing out the story. I found my mind
wandering while I read, and that almost never happens.
Other disappointments: Iran was barely discussed. The
recipes weren’t very clear considering how complicated they seem. There was no
mention of “Maman’s Homesick Pie,” so the title didn’t make sense to me.
I did, however, learn a few food-related tidbits, and there
were several wonderful moments that I’ll quote here:
quince must be cooked before eating (page 45)
Crème Fraîche is made of heavy cream and buttermilk (page
177)
We told her the best way to know [if a persimmon is ripe] is
to ask her husband to hold a persimmon in one hand and her breast in the other.
When the two feel the same, the persimmon is ripe. (page 66)
France had given me a lasting gift: to leave a place with
longing in your heart to return. (page 163)
You were made of stone if you didn’t fall for this dish.
(page 169)
I never tired of the pattern of assembling a dish, falling
in love with it, sending it away. You shrug and start all over, but each time
it feels different—you and your dish in perpetual courtship. (page 169)
Working beside [chefs from France’s one- and two-star
Michelin restaurants] I couldn’t help measuring my skill against theirs. I knew
it wasn’t magic they possessed, but magic they practiced. (page 171)
So, there were some transcendent moments, but all in all, this
was not the read I was hoping for.
Would you recommend
this to a friend?
I don’t think so.
You might also enjoy:
Books about studying at Le Cordon Bleu:
Dearie: The Remarkable Life of Julia Child, Bob Spitz
Books about Iran:
Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books, Azar
Nafisi
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