Currently browsing posts about: Books

Michael T Compton, MD, MPH.  Veggie Smarts: A Doctor and Farmer Grows and Savors Eight Families of Vegetables.  Regalo Press, 2025.  

This one was sent to me for a blurb.  Here’s what I said:

This endearingly quirky book describes Compton’s love affair with eight families of vegetables for their growing habits, diversity, nutritional value, flavor, texture, and deliciousness, and he offers science, experience, charm, and recipes to prove it.  His dietary advice?  Eat your veggies!

And here are a couple of excerpts, this one about his thwarted love affair with cabbage.

I figured that we could somehow eat 20 heads of cabbage between the weekends in the Hudson Valley and the work weeks in the city.  They grew beautifully….Then it happened.  It was Friday evening, we had just arrived home from the city, and before even going into the house I was off to the two gardens…They were gone.  All 20 of them, gone.  Just 20 solitary cabbage stems standing, all heads and all leaves gone.  I knew it was a groundhog, and I immediately felt tears welling up in my eyes…Building the groundhog fence took me 20 hours one weekend, as I was determined to outsmart these New York woodchucks by burying wire at least eight inches underground around the entire garden.  They never tasted my cabbage again.

And this about his spinach failure.

This is hard for me to admit publicly, but I’ve never been able to grow spinach.  I’ve tried year after year and it never works.  It’s an embarrassment.  My two green thumbs work for everything else but the spinach is always a flop….I think my failure is driven by: one, my little, diverse farm grows about 90 cultivars across the 60 or so vegetables…two, each cultivar requires its own ongoing attention; three, spinach evidently requires a little more attention than average; and four, I have only been giving it average attention  This is despite the fact that spinach is one of the several vegetables that I’m addicted to…My condition even meets some of the psychiatric diagnostic criteria for addiction, except that it doesn’t impair my life.  Cravings.  Finding that once I start using (eating) it, I end up using (eating) more of it than I had intended to.  Having a strong desire or urge to use (eat) it (even when out of season).  And having withdrawals (necessitating highly disguished grocery store visits) when it is available neither on my farm (always) nor at the farmers markets (in the heat of summer).

The publisher says:

A nerdy farmer—and doctor with expertise in nutrition—explains how the vast majority of our vegetables come from just eight families of plants, which can guide how we eat them (“eight on my plate”), while recounting his journey of trading in city life to build a thriving organic vegetable farm.

The eight veggie families:  Brassicas, Alliums, Legumes, Chenopods, Aster Greens, Umbellifers, Cucurbits, Nightshades (hint: look at the pictures on the cover).

He says: eat some of each of them every day.

He’s a doctor who also runs a farm.

Quirky indeed, but fun and full of interesting facts about these families.

My next forthcoming book is now available for preorder.

I say next, because this one is a bit of a surprise, even to me.  It’s a spinoff from my forthcoming (in September, I think) new and thoroughly revised edition of What to Eat, retitled What to Eat Now—the book I’ve been working on for the last three years.

Here’s what the publisher says about The Fish Counter:

A standalone extract from the newly revised edition of her groundbreaking What to Eat (which is being reissued as What to Eat Now).

Marion Nestle, America’s preeminent nutritionist and the scholar widely credited with establishing the field of modern American food studies, takes us through every aspect of how we grow, market, shop for, store, label, and eat fish in America….
Nestle pulls the curtain back on the complicated routes that fish have to go through to make it to our supermarket fish counter. What is the history of methylmercury contamination in our fish supplies? How have government agencies dealt with it in the past? How have they communicated its dangers to us, and how do they do that now? What should we consider when we think about food safety and fish? How healthy is fish, in fact?

Marion Nestle answers these and many more questions at the heart of how we consume fish. These chapters are a master class for anyone looking to eat more sustainably, mindfully, and with a full awareness of the many complicated factors at play when you’re standing at the fish counter trying to make a decision about what fish you ought to buy for your dinner.

If you scroll down on the Macmillan website for the book, you can see the five other books in the Picador Shorts series on Oceans, Rivers, and Streams.  They all have great covers.  I’m thrilled to be in their company.

Macmillan is the behemoth consolidated publisher that owns Farrar, Straus & Giroux. the publisher of What to Eat Now, which in turn owns Picador, the publisher of The Fish Counter.

The book is also listed at

• Barnes and Noble
• Drury Lane Books
• Amazon
• and can be pre-ordered from your local bookstore

I will have more to say about this book and What to Eat Now as the publication dates get closer.  Stay tuned!

Emily K. Abel.  Gluten Free for Life.  NYU Press, 2025.

I was surprised to be asked to do a blurb for this book, since I don’t have to worry much about gluten and rarely comment on clinical medicine, but after reading it I was glad to do one.  It’s a really good book.  My back cover blurb:

This important book is a rousing call for action—medical, dietary, social, and political–to protect people with celiac disease from the gluten proteins that make them sick. Emily Abel’s analysis of the barriers to avoidance, from unaware doctors to food companies’ lobbying against labeling to widespread ignorance of where gluten lurks in food, should convince us all to insist that gluten be labeled and products monitored to ensure they really are gluten free.

Celiac disease turns out to be a genetically determined autoimmune reaction to digested fragments of gluten proteins. The autoimmune reaction destroys the lining of the intestine, causing serious digestive illness and preventing nutrient absorption.  People with celiac disease display nutrient deficiences and many other symptoms beyond digestive.  These are more difficult to explain and put this disease in a category similar to that of other poorly understood multi-symptom diseases.

Wheat, rye, and barley contain gluten proteins.  Corn and oats do not, but they are easily contaminated with wheat in silos or trucks.

Symptoms of celiac disease ought to disappear when people strictly avoid foods containing sources of gluten.

But this book emphasizes that strict avoidance is practically impossible for most people with this condition.  Why? Gluten proteins seemingly are everywhere in the food supply, not least because food preparers don’t realize what they are.

Abel makes a strong case for celiac disease—and gluten—as deeply misunderstood, maligned, and neglected.

She quotes the voices of many people with this condition, in despair over how long it took them to be diagnosed, how hard it is for friends and relatives to understand what it takes for them to avoid gluten, and how often they are “glutened” in error.

As a result of reading this book, I will join calls for better labeling—-and for rigorous, scrupulous efforts to make gluten-free mean what it says.

Charlotte Bilekoff.  Real Food, Real Facts: Processed Food and the Politics of Knowledge.  University of California Press, 2024.  267 pages.

Food processing is a big issue these days (witness RFK Jr’s pledge to get ultra-processed foods out of school meals) and I was interested to see what food studies scholar Charlotte Biltekoff had to say about it.

Her thesis: When people say they want to eat “real food” rather than highly processed food, the food industry responds with “real facts,” science-based discussions of the benefits of food processing (“food scientism”).

The industry’s response is based on the idea that if you could only correct public ignorance and misperceptions, you could sell your products more easily.

But public concerns are about politics, not science.  And food scientism is a form of antipolitics.

She cites as an example, the FDA’s ongoing inability to define the term “natural.”

Concerned about health, sustainability, and risk and wanting change in the food system, the public sought to act on its values and aspirations in the marketplace.  Narrowly reframing those concerns as demands that could be met through product reformulations and new approaches to marketing—but without serious, systemic engagement with the broader issues they reflected—the food industry produced products that appeared to be more natural, less processed, and therefore better…articles in the industry press and comments to the FDA show that many perceived the consumers of “real food” as irrational and misinformed.  Seen through the lens of food scientism of the Real Facts frame, consumer perceptions of processing and what “natural” meant, or should mean, were further proof that the public lacked the skills and understanding to meaningfully participate in the regulatory processess, let alone act as knowledgeable participants in the governance of technology and the shaping of the food system. (p. 143)

What Biltekoff has done here is to translate the classic two-culture risk communication problem to food.

Her book made me go back and look at what I wrote about the two-culture problem in Safe Food: The Politics of Food Safety.  The book contrasts the differing perceptions of industry and the public about the potential harm of microbial foodborne illness versus GMOs.

These differences in approaching questions of risk were understood long before anyone invented the techniques for genetically modifying foods. In 1959, for example, the scientist and writer C. P. Snow characterized the ways in which people trained in science tend to think about the world—as opposed to those without such training—as representing two distinct cultures separated from one another by a “gulf of mutual incomprehension” [1]. Much more recently, the anthropologist Clifford Geertz wrote, “The ways in which we try to understand and deal with the physical world and those in which we try to understand and deal with the social one are not altogether the same. The methods of research, the aims of inquiry, and the standards of judgment all differ, and nothing but confusion, scorn, and accusation—relativism! Platonism! reductionism! verbalism!—results from failing to see this” [2].  [1. Snow CP. Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution: The Rede Lecture. London: Cambridge University Press, 1959; 2. Geertz C. Empowering Aristotle (book review). Science 2001;293:53].

Science-based approaches to food safety, I pointed out, count cases and estimate costs, whereas what I called “value-based” approaches, are about feelings of dread and outrage.

Biltekoff’s analysis applies the two-culture framework to public responses to food processing and to the ways the food industry deals with those responses.

Her analysis explains much about the current pushback against the concept of ultra-processed foods from the food industry and some nutritionists.  If you want to understand why the Dietary Guidelines Advisory Committee has chosen not to recommend reducing intake of ulra-processed foods, read this book.

And, amazingly, the book is available as open source.  Read the book online here.

Read Charlotte Biltekoff’s interview with UC Press here.

Ashley N. Gearhardt, Kelly D. Brownell, Mark S. Gold, and Marc N. Potenza, editors.  Food & Addiction: A Comprehensive Handbook, Second Edition.  Oxford University Press, 2024.  570 pages.

This is the second edition of a book I wrote about in 2012.

At the time, I said:

Brownell and Gold have produced an instant classic.  Food and Addiction presents a comprehensive, authoritative, and compelling case for considering whether food is addictive.  Its chapters raise serious questions about our current laissez-faire attitude toward food marketing, especially to children.  This book is a must read for everyone who cares about the causes and consequences of obesity and the need for food policies that better promote health.  It is a game changer.  Readers will never look at food the same way again.

Much has happened since then to focus greater attention on the ways food triggers addictive-like eating behavior.

• Michael Moss’s books, Salt, Sugar, Fat, and Hooked.  These document how food companies deliberately formulate products to make them irresistible (“you can’t eat just one”).
• The emergence of the concept of ultra-processed foods as a researchable category.
• Kevin Hall et al’s demonstration that ultra-processed foods encourage people to eat more calories but not realize it.
• The increase in research using the Yale Food Addiction Scale, and
• The research described and reviewed in this book.

All of this makes an increasingly convincing case that the word “addiction” applies to food as well as to other addictive substances, and that similar proportions of people (10% to 15%) meet criteria for addiction; everyone eats, but not everyone meets those criteria.

The editors’ introductory and concluding chapters lay out the diagnostic and policy issues.

The short chapters address biological, behavioral, clinical, and legal correlates of food addiction.

They are written by a authors who address these issues from enormously different , but highly critical, perspectives ranging from the exceedingly personal to the big-picture political.

Is anything missing here?  As with any multi-authored book, this one undoubtedly took years to produce.  That makes it a few years out of date in fast-moving areas.  It does not cover recent research on ultra-processed foods, Kevin Hall’s experiment, the concept of food “noise,” or the way the new GLP-1 drugs might interact with addictive behavior.

But, this is the resource of food addiction, a great gift to the addiction-perplexed and an enormous public service at a time when it is badly needed.

Sara B. Franklin.  The Editor: How Publishing Legend Judith Jones Shaped Culture in America.  Atria Books, 2024.  316 pages.

I badly wanted to read this book.  Sara Franklin got her doctorate in Food Studies in my NYU department and I met Judith Jones several times in the 1990s and 2000s (she died in 2017).

Judith Jones is famous in food circles for rescuing Julia Child’s manuscript for Mastering the Art of French Cooking and getting Knopf to publish it.

But the best way to understand her impact is to take a look at the jaw-dropping list of authors she edited; it takes up two and a half double-columned pages, and includes poets (WH Auden, Sylvia Plath, Sharon Olds) and writers (Andre Gide, John Hersey, Langton Hughes), as well as a breathtaking list of food writers: MFK Fisher, Marion Cunningham, Elizabeth David, Scott Peakock, Elisabeth Rosin, Jeffrey Steingarten, and on and on.  And, oh yes, Anne Frank.

The story here is of a woman who began her editing career in 1949 when the best women could aspire to was secretarial work.  She worked her way up through the system, but did not fight it and was always treated as someone who didn’t matter much, despite that incredible list of authors, many of them deeply devoted to Judith for what she did for them.

As an author, I can tell you that a good editor is a treasure and she was a terrific one.  She got her authors to clarify, explain, focus, and make their books readable, understandable, and enjoyable for wide audiences.  This takes insight and the ability to inspire authors to do their best work—genuine talent.  It also requires stepping back and letting the authors shine.  This book details Judith’s way of staying in the background, not always to her advantage.

Sara Franklin got to know Judith Jones, was given access to her papers, and conducted loads of interviews as the basis for this book.  She tells the story of one woman’s career, but sets it against the background of changes in society and in the food world since the 1950s and in the lives of the authors she edited—the era that I too have lived through and these are people I know, explaining why I so enjoyed reading this.

I especially like the way Sara weaves herself into the book but mostly lets Judith speak for herself.  An excerpt:

“Dick [Judith’s husband] didn’t take criticism well,” Judith told me, “And I thought it awkward to play the two roles,” editor and wife at once, “so I just shut up.  I would have liked more back and forth, but people have their hang-ups”…Judith had been caught off guard by how overwhelmed she’d become by family life, and the perpetual juggle of working motherhood.  Keeping up with the demands of her career while remaining attentive and available to Dick and the children, Judith found, was an almost impossible balancing act, with “so much,” she remarked, “dumped on the woman.”  With no models to look to, Judith was flying blind. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” she told me.  “It just seemed natural.”

As I said, a classic woman’s story of the era.

Much of the book describes Judith’s acquisition of important books and the ways she worked with their authors.  I wish I had had the chance to work with her.  I know I’m not alone in thinking that would have been an honor and a privilege.

Sara’s book is terrific.  And we are so proud of her.

The book was reviewed in the New York Times: She Was More Than the Woman Who Made Julia Child Famous: In “The Editor,” Sara B. Franklin argues that Judith Jones was a “publishing legend,” transcending industry sexism to champion cookbooks — and Anne Frank.

Marianna Chilton.  The Painful Truth about Hunger in America: Why We Must Unlearn Everything We Think We Know—and Start Again.  MIT Press, 2024. 366 pages.

MIT Press asked me to do a back-cover blurb for this book, which I was pleased to do.

Marianna Chilton’s uncompromising book cuts to the heart of what’s wrong with America’s “safety net” for poverty and hunger.  Her tough analysis derives from the lived experience of people dependent on this system despite its demonstrable inadequacies, inequities, and indignities.

This is one tough book to read, as Chilton warns us right from the start.  Accepting food and financial assistance is a deeply humiliating experience.  Worse, it is intended to be so, right from the start.

Chilton’s work is highly unusual.  She gains the trust of participants in this system by listening closely when they tell her what it is really like for them, and how they feel about it.

This system is so bad and self-sustaining that nothing short of  a complete overhaul can fix it.  We could, should, must do better.

She says:

Poverty costs the United States at least $1.03 trillion a year.  For every dollar spent on reducing childhood poverty, the country would save at least $7 in government spending to address the health and social problems that arise from poverty…To fix this, we need to spend more money to help people avoid poverty; we need to fix the tax code, wage structures, and many other policies that exclude and exploit people who are poor so the wealthy will stop profiting off them.

Chilton recommends the universals:

• Universal health care
• Universal Basic Income
• Universal school meals
• Universal child care

Anything short of that keeps the current system in place.

Ronnie Cummins and André Leu.  The Regenerative Agriculture Solution: A Revolutionary Approach to Building Soil, Creating Climate Resilience, and Supporting Human and Planetary Health.  Chelsea Green, 2024.

I was asked to do a blurb for this one, and did:

This book is a testament to the vision of the late Ronnie Cummins.  His friend, André Leu, memorializes Cummins’ lifelong work with this overview of the demonstrable benefits of regenerative agriculture for everything in the book’s subtitle, and more.  Cummins’ case study on agave illustrates these benefits perfectly, making this book a useful as well as touching tribute.

This short book is a touchingly sentimental project.  It started out as Ronnie Cummins’ account of how to use agave fronds (which otherwise would be wasted), ground to the consistency of cole slaw and then fermented, for sustainable animal feed.

But Cummins died after writing only two chapters.  The publisher thought agave was too narrow a topic to make book length; it advised broadening the scope to regenerative agriculture with agave as a case study.  Leu, an old friend of Cummins’, took this on.

So there are really two books here, on two topics, by two different authors, in two distinct voices.  Even so, it works as a basic introduction to the benefits of regenerative agriculture for sustainability.

I think the agave example would be better as a monograph, but Cummins hadn’t done enough on it.  Too bad.  He was really excited about its possibilities.  Agave stores moisture from air and does not need much water to grow.

So I projected, if you could grow enough plants, in this case billions of agaves and companion trees, grow them large enough, and interplant them on millions and millions of acres of the world’s currently decarbonized and unproductive rangelands, you could conceivably draw down a critical mass of excess carbon from the atmosphere (where too much CO₂ contributes to climate change) and put in into the plants and trees aboveground, and into the soil belowground, where it belongs.  By greening the desert and the drylands you could dramatically increase soil fertility, retain and store rainfall, restore landscapes and biodiversity, reforest semi-desert areas, regenerate rural livelihoods, and eventually restabilize the climate.  I could hardly fall asleep.

This book is Cummins’ living memorial.