“Some of the food had acquired a thin veneer of mold, but Mom blithely scraped it off and began mixing her terrible Horn & Hardart mush. ‘It’s delicious!’ she cried, holding out a spoonful. It wasn’t.”

The descriptive details and diction in this passage emphasize how disgusting Miriam’s food really is: Given the “thin veneer of mold” and the word “mush,” emphasizing how careless planning and technique result in something completely unappetizing, it is comically deluded for Miriam to excitedly declare the result “delicious!”—a fact that Reichl emphasizes with her abrupt, deadpan comment “It wasn’t.” Miriam’s internal world is chaotic and self-absorbed, and her food reflects this—supporting the book’s thematic arguments about Food as a Form of Self-Expression.

“Alice would have snickered derisively at the notion, but she was the first person I ever met who understood the power of cooking.”

Alice is too humble and pragmatic to see what a gift she has for using food to communicate love, acceptance, and care. More importantly to Reichl, however, Alice understands what cooking can do for the self—how the routine and rituals of the kitchen can center a person. The lessons she teaches Reichl contrast sharply with those Reichl has learned from Miriam. Miriam’s cooking is disorderly and chaotic, and because it lacks the intentionality of Alice’s cooking, its results are disastrous. On the other hand, Alice’s approach toward food is grounded and orderly, and the results are wonderful. This is an important turning point in Reichl’s understanding of cooking and food.

“We walked down 168th Street to Broadway, where Alice moved regally through the stores, pinching fruit and asking questions […] Trailing in her wake I began to see that status conferred by caring about food.”

Alice is an elderly Black woman and an immigrant in a time when each of these identities was subject to discrimination in American society. This image of her moving “regally” from store to store, “pinching fruit and asking questions,” however, portrays the confidence of a queen. This is an important moment for Reichl, who will grow into an adolescent who feels unseen and undervalued by those around her; given the example Alice sets, it is unsurprising that Reichl will turn to “caring about food” as a way to seek status.

“‘Don’t leave me,’ I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. I just looked at her dumbly.”

Reichl’s depiction of herself as a lonely child, unable to speak up and beg Mrs. Peavey to stay, creates empathy for her as a character and indicates how deeply dysfunctional her childhood home really was. Mrs. Peavey has only been a part of her life for about a year, but Reichl wants to cling to the only relatively stable adult presence in her home. The deep bond she feels with Mrs. Peavey despite the short time she has known the woman helps explain why Mrs. Peavey’s example of independence, pride, and rebellion has such a lasting impact on Reichl’s life. This helps to develop the theme of The Role of Relationships in Shaping the Self in a significant way.

“‘It is so pretty it would be a shame to eat it,’ I said, hoping he would not destroy that beautiful still-life of carrots, peas, and beans.”

Reichl’s metaphor comparing the chartreuse to a still-life painting reinforces the text’s claims about food as a form of self-expression by making a claim for food as art. That Reichl sees something artistic and “beautiful” in something as mundane as “carrots, peas, and beans” shows her belief that, with technique and imagination, common foodstuffs can be elevated into art.

“And then, together, we all chorused the line I heard every day of my life, ‘You’d be so pretty if you’d just lose a little weight.’”

Although Reichl has previously mentioned having a “round” face and other descriptors that hint at her dissatisfaction with her own body shape, Chapter 5 offers the text’s first direct discussion of this topic. Unsurprisingly, this discussion comes when she is entering her teen years and is concerned about her status with her peers and her attractiveness to boys. Reichl’s peers are supportive and join in her sarcastic mockery of other people’s preoccupation with her weight, but it is clear that she has repeatedly been made to feel unattractive because of her body type and that this emotionally complicates her love for food and cooking.

“It was magnificent. The fruit was intoxicatingly fragrant and each berry released its juice only in the mouth, where it met the sweet, crumbly crust.”

This lyrical passage is typical of the way Reichl writes about food. The evocative olfactory and gustatory imagery Reichl uses to describe the tart demonstrates her gift for food writing. Her skill with language combines with an intense focus on the details of food and the experience of eating it: Even at 18, trapped in the farmhouse and worried about making it back to work on time, Reichl is able to concentrate on the specific pleasures of the tarte and commit the exact details of the experience to memory.

“Much later it made me angry, but at the time I didn’t think too much about it.”

Reichl’s comment about her lack of reaction to Rob’s fraternity brothers’ prejudice against Serafina illustrates the bubble of privilege she moved in because of her race and her parent’s relative wealth. She can ignore racism or pay attention to it at her convenience, because it does not really impact her. Her emphasis on her friendships with nonwhite people makes it clear that she thinks of herself as anti-racist, but it is also clear that she struggles to see The Impact of Privilege on Understanding the Self and Others.

“That night I made a big dinner, cooking carefully, as if I were trying to seduce a lover.”

The analogy comparing creating dinner for Serafina with creating dinner for a lover emphasizes how central to Reichl’s life Serafina has become and conveys how desperate she is to get Serafina to let her back into her life. By this point in her life, Reichl has learned that cooking and food can have many purposes, and she has become expert at employing cooking as a means to reach all kinds of goals. Here, she uses it to “seduce,” to draw another person closer and persuade them to open up to her.

“‘I don’t know why I agreed to this.’

And I wasn’t quite sure why I had asked.”

Mac agrees to meet Mrs. Forest and her children against his better judgment, in order to please Reichl. Reichl herself is unsure at the time what her motive is for pushing for the meeting, and even writing after several decades, she cannot clarify. Arranging a meeting between her clients and someone who is a stranger to them puts her job in danger, but it somehow feels important enough to her to force the issue; it is a strange choice, and the fact that decades later she is still puzzled by the choice suggests motives she prefers not to examine.

“‘Exactement!’ said Marielle […] ‘Americans don’t know what they have. A restaurant like L’Escargot is wasted on them.’”

The inclusion of Marielle’s exclamation in its original French stresses her origins. In a time when French culture—and European culture more broadly—was considered superior to American culture, this conveys her authority as a critic of American’s purported lack of understanding of good food. Neither the staff of L’Escargot nor Reichl—even writing decades later—contradicts this sentiment, showing that, at least for Reichl, the idea has lasting power.

“Much later Pat told me that I was the most depressing person she ever met. I certainly felt that way.”

Despite her many friendships, financial security, successful academic career, and passionate interests in food and countercultural movements, Reichl is miserable during her senior year of college. She attributes this to her sorrow over losing Serafina and Mac as her closest friends, underscoring the role of relationships in shaping the self. Given her difficult and often lonely childhood, it is unsurprising that much of her happiness is tied to peer relationships as she works to establish her adult identity.

“Serafina never liked being told how to do anything. […] [S]he picked up the nearest pastry and took a bite. There was a spurt and a gasp: Serafina had egg all over her face.”

Serafina’s bite into the brik before Noureddine can explain how to eat it characterizes her as independent, proud, and impulsive. Reichl adds humor to the scene by following the dramatic diction “a spurt and a gasp” with the phrase “egg all over her face.” In a literal sense, the brik does contain egg, which has squirted out of the pastry onto Serafina’s face. The phrase is also idiomatic, however, referring to a situation where a person’s own words or actions end up embarrassing them. Serafina’s mishap is embarrassing to her, and so she ironically ends up living out in reality a phrase that is seldom—if ever—meant literally.

“I assumed that we loved each other because we were so different. I should have known it was not so simple. All I had to do was look at what I was cooking. It was Dad-food from the first.”

Tender at the Bone ends before Reichl and Doug divorce, and the two are portrayed as overwhelmingly happy with their relationship throughout the time they are together in this text. Still, Reichl hints obliquely at the future dissolution of their relationship here, suggesting that its foundations are not what she believes. What she does not see in the early days of their relationship is how similar to her father Doug is and how she feels drawn to him as a way to get closer to her own often-absent father. Reichl’s beliefs about how food choices are shaped by personality and relationships lead to her retrospective understanding of her desire to feed Doug her father’s favorite foods.

“The proprietress beamed as we left: I think she thought we were going to midnight mass. In a way, I guess, we were.”

Reichl’s comment “In a way, I guess, we were” creates an analogy between attending a sacred ceremony and the process of going out to gather gifts for Milton’s Christmas stocking. The analogy makes a claim for the sacredness of giving to and nurturing others, and since most of the gifts they get for Milton are food, the passage indirectly compares gifts of food to a kind of sacrament. Passages like this convey how seriously Reichl takes the role of food in people’s lives.

“The Superstar examined the high, snowy topping as if it were an alien creature and squealed, ‘Oooh, what’s that?’ so loudly I almost dropped the pie.”

Reichl has surrounded herself with other people who appreciate and know about food, and so Jerry’s lack of knowledge about common foods like lemon meringue pie comes as a shock. The humorous simile comparing the pie to “an alien creature” conveys just how outside of Jerry’s experience the pie really is. This interaction with Jerry is Reichl’s introduction to the idea that others might envy her food knowledge and want to learn from her.

“‘Look, doll,’ he said, ‘if you can teach that girl to cook you should write a book.’”

Given how little knowledge of food Jerry really has, Izzy is impressed that Reichl is able to teach the woman to cook. His comment that Reichl should write a book follows from this: Although Reichl assumes he is joking, because she cannot imagine wider audiences wanting her to teach them what she knows, Izzy is perfectly serious. His comment, of course, foreshadows Reichl’s long career as an author of all kinds of books related to food and cooking—and indicates how pivotal the cooking lessons for Jerry really are.

“I was relieved when the doors were safely closed, but only momentarily; then I began to be afraid I would start screaming and be unable to stop.”

Reichl paints a vivid picture of the distress caused by Miriam’s manipulative, domineering behavior. In her description of trying to get through even ordinary tasks like riding the subway, she makes it clear that her life has become little more than a constant cycle of panic, momentary relief, and then more panic. The image of her standing in a subway car endlessly screaming conveys just how out of control, frustrated, and frightened she has become.

“It was early spring when we got to Berkeley, and when I stepped out of the van I was surrounded by the scent of night-blooming jasmine. […] Even now, after all these years, the scent of jasmine reminds me of how free I felt.”

The image of Reichl stepping out into the California air and being enveloped by the sweet perfume of jasmine follows her previous images of her panic in the crowded, confined space of the New York subway system. The contrast created by the juxtaposition of these images reinforces her claim of feeling “free” in Berkeley, far from Miriam, and foreshadows how pleasant her life in California will be.

“‘You’ll know it when your time comes,’ she said again. […] ‘It will happen to you.’”

Rubenstein’s repeated assertion that Reichl is like her and will eventually show signs of mental illness is naturally upsetting to Reichl. Because of her own mother’s bipolar disorder, Reichl is easily frightened by the suggestion that she, too, might be destined for this kind of illness. This terrible moment helps to develop the text’s theme of the role of relationships in shaping the self.

“Aunt Birdie’s not related to me […] she’s your grandmother, and you’d think you would care enough to come and help with her party. […] I don’t ask you to do very much for me. […] I don’t know what I did to raise such a selfish child.”

Miriam’s angry commentary about Reichl not wanting to abandon her responsibilities at Artpark to come early to help with Birdie’s party are a clear illustration of the kind of manipulation she subjected Reichl to throughout her life. Factually, Birdie is not Reichl’s grandmother and is not related to Reichl, either—she is a person whom Miriam herself installed in Reichl’s life in the capacity of grandmother for her own convenience. It is also not factually correct that Miriam does not ask for much from Reichl—it is more true that, as Reichl has grown older, she has grown more resistant to constantly giving in to Miriam’s whims. Here, Miriam uses a well-known manipulation tactic in which the “victim” and “offender” are reversed and the victim is made to feel responsible for a situation the offender has created.

“I pushed the door open and hesitated, dreading the moment when I would lose myself.”

When Reichl returns to her parents’ home, she is surrounded by both the physical and emotional chaos Miriam creates. Her metaphorical feeling that she is about to “lose” herself in this chaos speaks to the role of relationships in shaping the self: Reichl feels so overwhelmed by the force of her mother’s personality that the closer she draws to Miriam’s orbit the more she feels her independent adult identity slipping away.

“That’s why I have to keep making these damn trips. I have to keep tasting.”

Although Reichl shares Kermit’s comment about his wine-tasting tours to France as an illustration of his dedication to improving the wines available to the American market, his words apply equally well to Reichl’s own work as a restaurant critic. In a sense, with her job at the San Francisco magazine, she has “arrived” as a food critic and is reaping the reward of the many years she has devoted to learning about food. The importance she places on Kermit’s words—emphasizing them by placing them at the very end of Chapter 17—indicates that she sees her own journey as similarly incomplete. The trip to France to learn about wine is proof that she intends to keep learning and refining her understanding so that she, too, can keep improving the offerings available.