“For Lillian’s mother, every part of a book was magic, but what she delighted in most were the words themselves. Lillian’s mother collected exquisite phrases and complicated rhythms, descriptions that undulated across a page like cake batter pouring into a pan, read aloud to put the words into the air, where she could hear as well as see them.”
~from chapter 1 of The School of Essential Ingredients

Lillian, in reaction to her mother’s pet obsession, develops an aversion to books, even cookbooks, but she loves to cook. She reaches out to her avoidant mother, and later to others, through cooking for them. Lillian owns a restaurant where she creates a community and gives herself to people through the food she cooks for them.

Once a month on Monday evenings, the restaurant is closed to customers and open only for Lillian’s cooking class. The School of Essential Ingredients weaves together the stories of a particular set of students in the cooking class, the aromas and tastes of the foods they cook, and the developing relationships of the characters and ingredients in the book.

An extended exercise in using food and cooking as a metaphor and catalyst for life, The School is a beautifully written book. It reminds me of Alexander McCall Smith with his vignette snapshots of people and situations, with less emphasis on plot and more on language and description. It also reminds me of a couple of movies, Mostly Martha and Babette’s Feast in which food and feasting are a gift and a sacrament communicating love and grace. (Oddly enogh, both of those movies are European, non-English films. Are there any English language movies that celebrate in gift of food particularly?)

I enjoyed The School of Essential Ingredients so much that I sent my copy, purchased serendipitously at Half-Price Books, to Eldest Daughter in Tennessee. I’m hoping that she will enjoy it, too, since she’s a lover of good food and cooking and of sharing her gift of cooking with others.