If you cannot go to Paris, then buy this book and bring some of Paris to you.

Greenspan (Baking with Julia) has done it again - another book that deciphers and presents some complicated recipes into approachable masterpieces. The recipes work (at least the ones I've tried), and I have foisted them on some of my French friends, some of whom immediately identified it and the shop the recipe came from (Earl Grey Madeleines, from Mariage Frères, for example). That constitutes success.

The book is organized cleverly, with the simpler recipes in the front, and more and more complex recipes as you work your way through. Though Greenspan does not say she is doing this by design, it is clearly the case. After each recipe, she has some tips and suggestions she calls "An American in Paris," in which she tells you things she does to make the recipe more in her own style, as an American living in Paris.

This is not a primer on French pastry, however, and you will learn little about technique; although there are many classic desserts in this book, it is not comprehensive, by any means. But that does not lessen its value.

There are some nice touches at the end of the book, too. Places to buy ingredients that might be hard to find, and of course, addresses and contact information for all the pastry shops that contributed to the book. Get out your Paris street map and start planning your next trip...

I bought this book the day it came out.

For at least a year, I saved Amanda Hesser's columns from the Sunday NY Times in a little file folder, and followed the charming story of her romance with Mr. Latte. This book is collection of these columns I had saved (and a few that I missed). It is really like a wish come true for me. Now if only someone will release the entire The Days and Nights of Molly Dodd series on DVD...

Hesser has a way of making food personal, and this is her most personal work to date. It is not solely a cook book, it is a story of her relationship and eventual marriage, interpreted with recipes. And the recipes work.

The recipes are varied -- some are haute cuisine, and others are comfort food. The technique is generally accessible to anyone. If you never felt successful about cooking duck, try the Ginger Duck -- it is fool proof and impressive. The Dump It cake also works like a charm, but no one will think it anything but homemade.

My favorite chapter is Fine Dining in the Sky, and in it Hesser prepares her own provisions for a trans Atlantic flight. As a fellow neurotic traveler, I too worry that my last meal might be some sort of dreck, and I agree with the importance of having the cocktail while in flight. How many cook books present picnic food to bring on the plane?

The chapter in which Hesser and her fellow Manhattanites gather together after the 9/11 attacks is very moving, the food is simple, and you know, you really know this is how it played out.

There are funny moments, too, like the party where she tries to use Julia Child's French Chef recipes for a party and realized some of Julia's wisdom is eternal.

It is easy to dismiss this book as facile, but the recipes are good, and the narrative really works. It is a bit precious with the Bendel-esque drawings, but it seems a small complaint. Hesser might be the only cookery writer working today in the tradition of Elizabeth David or MFK Fisher, and while that is a shame, I'm glad she is doing it.

You should also check out The Cook and the Gardener -- another very personal cookbook by Hesser.

What a wonderful premise: leave soggy Brittain for sunny Provence and create a community herb garden in the old curate's garden in a village that dates to the middle ages. If you like to garden, and if you like the French, then this book is truly a good read (especially this wet winter).

Holt takes you through all the steps (in sequence) that she went through to renovate this curate's garden in a year; from convincing the local authorities to allow her to do it (for free, of course), all the way through laying down the local scree as a path. Oh, and in between is building a Roman stone bridge.

Holt's style is easy to read -- unlike many other gardening books by Brits. She uses botanical names as well as common names so you can follow along with her. There are no pictures in the book, so you have to use your imagination, and I think it really works well in this book.

But do not dispare! There is a nice diagram in the back of the book, with the complete planting plan, too, which is a nice touch if you have a Mediterranean garden of your own to tend.

But back to style. This book makes me want to read other works from the author. She writes with a definite voice. Her writing is crisp and clear without being dry. She takes a few side trips, such as explaining how to distill lavendar oil, or make wreathes from bay leaves. But as this is a diary of garden, everything is pertinent and personal.

This is not a "precious" garden book -- despite the poetic cover; you will learn things along the way and be charmed at the same time.

I have been a fan of Oragami boxes for a long time, and I finally decided to step up to something more substantial. This book is really "the goods."

What I like about this book is that the author does not try to dumb it down to bored housewife levels. This is not something that you will ever see on HGTV (why do they even bother with craft shows?). Yet, I think anyone with patience would be able to follow the instructions.

The diagrams are clear and drawn in such a way that you can interpret the scale to suite your needs. The instructions are a bit pedantic, and the tone can be lecturing, but this volume is more like a class than like a guide, so I think it is appropriate.

As for the projects themselves - they work and work well. You do need many hours to complete them, but you learn an enormous amount on the way. Take your time, think about what you are doing, look at the many, excellent diagrams, and you are well on your way to success.

I admit it: I'm a sucker for a travelogue in the style of Peter Mayle or even Francis Mayes: a bit self-indulgent, but entertaining. If I cannot live abroad myself, reading "A
Year in Provence" or "Under the Tuscan Sky" is the next best thing. My delight in finding a new author in the genre was quickly dashed however.

This book is a vanity piece.

Why, you ask? Here's an example: the author, Jeffrey Greene, spends two chapters discussing his wedding under a pear tree in the remote village of Rogney, deep in the heart of Burgundy. Why is that vain? Because he goes to great lengths to tell us about all the folks from back home who had to fly over, the musical celebrity guests that felt compelled to perform, and how the "simple back yard wedding" turned into several days of celebration including an extended in a nearby chateau for all the guests. And all of this because everyone was so happy for him. His bride through all this is a bit player, by the way, which is a good thing as I don't think Greene, and his ego could legally marry a third person. Perhaps the most gratuitous bit a fluff in a book so filled with fluff that it could fill a pillow, is the vows at the wedding itself: the various friends that officiate quote Greene's own poems along with the standard liturgy, and CS Lewis.

When Greene is not talking about himself, he talks about the village drunk/idiot. Given the choice, I would rather spend time with the drunk than with the author.

When you write this sort of book, you are supposed to be an observer, not the topic, and this is why this book fails: Greene goes to France, and tells us nothing about the experience, only about himself.

This is an amazing book. If by the time you have finished it you have not picked up a pen and written an angry letter to the editor (any editor of any newspaper), I will be surprised. This book moved me to act, and I am not sure the last time that happened; perhaps college?

As a documentary film maker, Moore is at his best when he has a clear point to make and not all chapters in this book are equal, but there is something here for everyone. Moore's analysis of what really happened in the 2000 Presidential election is worth the price of the book. I have to admit, it upset me so much I put it down (several times, in fact) and picked it up again when calmer.

For those of you who caught Moore's late lamented show on Bravo Network, "The Awful Truth," you will be familiar with the technique: Moore starts off with a situation, exaggerates it to humorous effect, and then tightens the noose until you realize that he was not kidding. It stops being satire and suddenly turns into reporting, and it is a stunning moment when you realize that he is letting the information speak for itself.

This is what Moore wants: Read this book, get educated, and get involved. The powers that be do not want this (when has a book been on the best seller list of the NY Times for tens of weeks without being reviewed?).

As an FYI, Moore backs up his claims with an elaborate Notes and Sources section at the end of the book, and you can do your own research.

I am a great fan of David Sedaris - but this book is sort of like expecting Frank Sinatra and listening to Frank Sinatra Junior instead. Yeah, it's good, but it is not the same...

For long time readers of Sedaris, this is a reminder of how good he can be. Nothing makes me laugh as hard as "Dinah, the Christmas Whore," and of course for those who have not discovered the author's stint as a Macy's Elf, you are really in for a treat.

Let's just say that various nephews and nieces are now reading "Dinah" to their children, and I suppose that I need to find new material to redeem myself as the family curmudgeon. (Note: I also read excerpts from "The Painted Bird" by Kosinski at Thanksgiving, so I am well known as the family downer. But I digress...)

So why so few stars? This material is available elsewhere, and the selection has a bitter tone -- even for me. I was somehow hoping that there was something new that I had not seen yet. For new Sedaris readers, this is gold. For longtime fans, this is a rerun.

I always have a difficult time finding a travel guide that I like. Some are little more than lists of monuments and other must-see attractions; some are better catagorized as historical surveys of a place. Very few give me a sense of what a place is actually like - and that is the strength of the Collector Traveler, Paris.

This guide takes the unusual route of researching previously published articles and stories, colating them into themes, citing references and listing bibliographies. The editor of the guide, Barrie Kerper, is a keen researcher and for the small price of the guide, you can benefit from her efforts. For instance, besides the usual notations of the famous Michilin starred restaraunts of Paris, there are articles here about the best places to buy bread in the neighborhoods, or the best ice cream. The point is, traveling does not have to be about draining your bank account, but about living like the locals, even if only vicariously.

I am a notorious and obsessive planner; before going on a long-anticipated trip, I start doing my research. I plan site-seeing routes, shopping trips, where to dine, and where to people watch; but what I cannot plan is what the destination will be like, what my response will be to all the scenes around me. The Collected Traveler gives me more insight into the reality of Paris than any I have ever read. And true to form, I am starting to obsess over all the new things I have learned. One thing I know for certain is that this book will travel with me when I go to Paris.

Amanda Hesser's "The Cook and the Gardener" is more than the sum of its parts. There is an excellent story, a really compelling travelogue, and some of the best recipes I have ever tried.

Hesser's prose is crisp and well written, a real pleasure to read. For those lucky enough to be familiar with her work in the NY Times, you probably already know this: Hesser has a way of using food to tell a story that is both charming and revealing. It is hard to not fall under her spell.

The relationship that Hesser develops with the elderly gardener is the soul of this book. As M. Milbert slowly learns to like this young American, it becomes difficult for the reader not to like him, too. He starts off as an irritable old man, and by the end of the book he seems more like a favorite grandfather: quirky and loving.

Hesser paints an idealized portrait of her surroundings in the French countryside. As each season passes, you have a really strong sense of what it looks like, feels like, and even how it smells. And of course, you know what there is to eat.

The recipes are outstanding. None are too complicated, and so far I have been able to find ingredients and understand the technique to pull it off. Because the recipes are arranged by season, it is really easy to follow along with Hesser and live vicariously in Burgundy.

This book is sort of twixt and between being a memoir and being a cookbook. As a memoir, it mostly succeeds. Mme. Loomis leads an idealized life (from my perspective looking in, anyway) in a small town in France. As a cookbook, it mostly fails - not enough recipes and very little technique. Ironic, considering that Loomis is Patricia Wells research assistant.

(For an example of a cookbook/memoir that succeeds on all levels, you must look at Amanda Hesser's "The Cook and the Gardener.")

I have read through Rue Tatin two times now, and I still find it charming. I have made several of the recipes, and they turned out well; the braised chicken in mustard and white wine has become a staple in my house, however.