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Hamilton runs a successful restaurant in New York City, and this memoir details both her journey as a chef and as a person.

Hamilton actually says things that other people only think. Let's just say, I like memoirs in general, but this one really did stand out to me for it is complete and total honesty. Well, this review may be the skimpiest I have ever written because I read this book right at the beginning of the month and haven't had a moment to breathe, never mind write a review, until today. Gabrielle Hamiltonâ?s story is told with uncommon honesty, grit, humor, and passion. The smells of spit-roasted lamb, apple wood smoke, and rosemary garlic marinade became as necessary to her as her own skin.īlood, Bones & Butter follows an unconventional journey through the many kitchens Hamilton has inhabited through the years: the rural kitchen of her childhood, where her adored mother stood over the six-burner with an oily wooden spoon in hand the kitchens of France, Greece, and Turkey, where she was often fed by complete strangers and learned the essence of hospitality the soulless catering factories that helped pay the rent Hamiltonâ?s own kitchen at Prune, with its many unexpected challenges and the kitchen of her Italian mother-in-law, who serves as the link between Hamiltonâ?s idyllic past and her own future familyâ?the result of a difficult and prickly marriage that nonetheless yields rich and lasting dividends.īlood, Bones & Butter is an unflinching and lyrical work. Hamiltonâ?s ease and comfort in a kitchen were instilled in her at an early age when her parents hosted grand parties, often for more than one hundred friends and neighbors. Above all she sought family, particularly the thrill and the magnificence of the one from her childhood that, in her adult years, eluded her. Preferably gin.â?īefore Gabrielle Hamilton opened her acclaimed New York restaurant Prune, she spent twenty fierce, hard-living years trying to find purpose and meaning in her life. In ecstatic farewell to my years of corporate catering, we would never serve anything but a martini in a martini glass.

There would be no â?conceptualâ? or â?intellectualâ? food, just the salty, sweet, starchy, brothy, crispy things that one craves when one is actually hungry. the marrow bones my mother made us eat as kids that I grew to crave as an adult. the butter-and-sugar sandwiches we ate after school for snack. Â?I wanted the lettuce and eggs at room temperature. NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY The Miami Herald â?¢ Newsday â?¢ The Huffington Post â?¢ Financial Times â?¢ GQ â?¢ Slate â?¢ Menâ?s Journal â?¢ Washington Examiner â?¢ Publishers Weekly â?¢ Kirkus Reviews â?¢ National Post â?¢ The Toronto Star â?¢ BookPage â?¢ Bookreporter HTML: NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER â?¢ A NEW YORK TIMES NOTABLE BOOK