Luke Barr, PROVENCE, 1970

A gift for sprightly narrative non-fiction enlivens Luke Barr's account of several famous food writers, including his great-aunt M.F.K. Fisher, in France in 1970. They ate together, enjoyed the countryside together, and gossiped together, often about each other. It's all a bit too highbrow to be considered "dirt," but there's certainly enough sniping and snobbery to fill out an episode of a reality TV show. Conflicts within the group weren't merely a matter of pettiness, though; they also reflected different approaches to French and American cooking, preferences for hybridization and utility (Fisher, Julia Child, James Beard) vs. authenticity and difficulty (Richard Olney, Simone Beck). It's not hard to tell whose side Barr is on-- if we hadn't already guessed from his being related to one of them, the choice of names in the subtitle would give it away-- but he's clearly made some effort to be judicious, and clearly respects the principles, if not the individuals, on the opposing side.

The subtitle also promises "the Reinvention of American Taste," but doesn't really deliver: to the extent that it has occurred at all (I think well-to-do writers like Barr often lose sight of how most Americans continue to eat), it had already been created by these key players at the time they arrived in Provence. Fisher and Child were at points of professional or intellectual transition, yes, but the significance of that was more personal than national. And it's on the personal level that Provence, 1970 succeeds, as a romantic portrait of colorful characters exploring their passions in a picturesque setting. Barr tells the story well, balancing light biographical detail with charming incident and fascinating descriptions of culinary methods. An epilogue describing Barr's own visit to Provence is a fine piece of writing on its own merits, but somewhat jarring attached to the historical material. One wonders if it wasn't included in part to pad out what is not a physically substantial book. In any case, this is delightful reading. I wouldn't necessarily recommend it to those utterly unfamiliar with the people involved-- there isn't enough background to give readers who know nothing about the period a sense of just what was at stake and where everyone was coming from-- but if you're already an admirer of Fisher, Child, Beard, Olney, or Beck, this is an excellent window into the social world of the people who brought French cooking into the American mainstream.