Recognition by Bon Appetit magazine

bonappetit-march08.jpgWE ARE SO EXCITED !!!

We just discovered that our book, The Story of Tea A Cultural History and Drinking Guide has been reviewed in the March 2008 issue of Bon Appetit magazine.

You cannot imagine how much it means to us to be so recognized by such an important and beloved voice in the food world. We are overwhelmed, honored and giddy with pleasure. The jacket of our book is shown straight on in all it’s glorious red and black color – an auspicious beginning indeed to the Chinese New Year !

Here is what reviewer Elisa Huang had to say about our book: ” Mary Lou and Robert Heiss, who own the Massachusetts-based specialty store, Cooks Shop Here, cover everything you want to know about one of the world’s finest drinks.”

Then, we discovered that Editor-in-Chief Barbara Fairchild mentioned our book in her monthly Letter from the Editor on page 22. She said: ” Get that kettle going, let the steam fill the room a little, and sit down with a nice, fragrant cuppa. Suggested reading material ? The Story of Tea by Mary Lou and Bob Heiss ( see Culture page 54).”

 Wow. Thank you Bon Appetit …….. I think that I could use one of those nice, fragrant cuppas and a sit down right about now !!

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One thought on “Recognition by Bon Appetit magazine

  1. Bon Appetit
    Posted on August 14, 2009 by Carol Kosowan LL.B., B.A. (Law), B.A. (Policy)
    Being a devotee of Meryl Streep in all her incarnations, I had to see “Julie and Julia” when it hit the theatres last week and since then I have been riding a grocery cart straight to Hell.
    My grandmother was a cook in a Northern Ontario bush camp. Her endless preparation of potatoes, pancakes, pork, pies, pastries, popovers, pasta, puddings, pig’s feet and pickles made her a master of determined food production.
    At various points in their lives, her children were pressed into service at the camp and became “cookies”: scrubbing potatoes, sweeping floors, peeling potatoes, cleaning pots, boiling potatoes, setting tables, mashing potatoes, making gravy. My father described it as a relentless series of long days spent abusing potatoes in some way, shape or form.
    Since many of Grandma’s progeny went on to have rather large families of their own, the production of food in massive quantities was never questioned. If the food could be eaten standing up, so much the better. You might think that the family’s sordid potato past would have engendered an enduring hatred of potatoes, but that didn’t happen.
    Instead the potato became an icon, the sine qua non of our every meal. When I developed a love of Van Gogh’s painting The Potato Eaters later in life, it was probably the inevitable result of the pairing of a Dutch mother and a father who had been cruelly scarred by his potato memories.
    In spite of the humble origins of our culinary past, we grew up loving food. After a day of school and farm chores, food was a way to justify sitting idle. We were a large family of large people and large appetites and the potato remained the diva of our daily fare. The habit of sharing food, not only as a family, but with the many friends who dropped in and were aggressively conscripted for chores remains a common family practice.
    Julia Child reminded me of the joy one can squeeze out of life when your passion becomes your life. Her passion for eating manifested itself not only in the preparation of succulent dishes, but in her need to share those dishes with friends and family. Scenes of the younger Julie entertaining her friends with sumptuous meals made with Julia’s recipes, easily blinded one to the glimpses of Julie’s cramped apartment with its cracked linoleum and chipped countertops.
    So off to my favorite grocery store to whirl down the aisles in a frenzy of Julia-like acquisition of fragrant fresh vegetables, freshly butchered meats, spices just off the boat, herbs just picked from the garden. That’s when I realized that the road to Hell is indeed paved with good intentions and I couldn’t afford this stuff and would be afraid to cook it anyway. I settled for buying a new potato peeler.
    In Julia Child’s hands, potatoes were redeemed as Pommes Soufflees and for a fleeting moment I can imagine myself serving these puffed-up pretenders to dinner guests…until I realize that I can’t bring myself to deep fry something once, let alone twice.
    But the movie reminded me of an essential truth…sharing even a lowly potato can nourish friendships. You don’t have to be in Julia’s league to have an excuse to entertain your friends.

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