Thursday, January 26, 2017


It's a little bit weird for me to read the autobiography of someone I don't know.

I mean, usually when I'm reading a biography or autobiography, I'm doing it because I'm interested in the person. Maybe it's someone in history or someone currently somewhat-famous, but generally I know something about them. I mean, at least I know what they're famous for.

I mean, the average person would never get their autobiography published. Because average isn't all that interesting.

Mincemeat is the autobiography of Leonardo Lucarelli.

Never heard of him, right?

Probably because he's an Italian chef. In Italy. The book was translated from Italian. Well, he might be a chef, but we don't know that (unless we happened to read the back flap first) because we're not Italians in Italy. The book talks about his earlier years in the industry and how he bounced from one restaurant job to the other.

He wasn't an immediate success. He did some drugs, got in some trouble. Had girlfriends or not ... and along the way he learned more about cooking and running a restaurant. And he moved a lot, mostly to places I really didn't know much about, except in the broadest sense.

I suspect that his experiences in Italy aren't all that different from what might happen in America. Or not. Since everyone's path is different.

It was a good read, not too long. I think I might have enjoyed it a bit more if it was a chef I "knew," but it was still it was a good story.

I received this book from the publisher at no cost to me.

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