I read (and loved) The Kitchen Diaries. I’ve cooked from his books “Appetite” and “Nigel Slater’s Real Food”. (His “unctuous” potatoes are delicious.)

But I guess I wasn’t really prepared for the tone of this memoir. The bits about food are great. But some of the anecdotes made me really sad. And some were kinda creepy. He just put it all out there.

The ball aways hits me in the face or brings a shower of sand with it. My father sighs one of those almost imperceptible sighs that only fragile boys who regularly disappoint their father can hear.

It was brutally honest. I didn’t love it. But you might.