My Drunk Kitchen: A Guide to
Eating, Drinking & Going with Your Gut
Hannah Hart
While
I haven't seen all of Hannah Hart's My
Drunk Kitchen
videos, I admire both her concept and the obvious joie
de vivre
with which she appears to approach life. Nonetheless, I do know that
she does some actual cooking on her show and was thus
disappointed to discover that this
is a book
of jokes joke
recipes rather
than the recipe book with autobiographical asides that I had hoped
for.
Despite the fact that most of the recipes, which
do form the core of the book,
either sound awful or are actually just over-thought jokes, each
provides a segway (however relevant) into a brief aphorism; these
aphorisms form the book's emotional core and are worth seeking out
and remembering- even if you don't bother with whatever small bit of
context the anecote-joke-recipes might provide. Hell, I might even
try a couple of these culinary abominations: to
claim that
I wasn't tempted by Pizza Cake and Things in a Blanket would be a
lie, although I do think that including recipes that are essentially
ordering Thai food and reheating Indian food leftovers is too much of
a stretch, even for a book this lighthearted.
Harto does do a wonderful job
translating her vivid on-screen personality into words, and the
book's casual, conversational tone often makes it seem like she's
right there in the room, encouraging you to live life to the fullest
and calm your inner critic. It's easy to get immediately and
completely hooked on the book- I read it over the course of day,
during my commute and lunch hour- although it does leave a bit to be
desired. The core conceit- barely plausible recipes combined with
folksy, hard-won wisdom- is a good one, but the format changes little
throughout the book. There is little surprise to be had after the
rules are established, and the sections get weaker as the book goes
on. With its focus on family, the final section oozes with potential,
but Harto settles for the lazy jokes and played-out stereotypes
instead of the fresh cleverness that makes her so endearing. Then,
too, she tends to overplay her hand, taking a joke just too far or
not trusting a sarcastic aside to carry its load, calling attention
to the book's silliness and subduing its raw emotional power, which
gets lost somewhere among the shouting. Thus, the book often seems at
odds with itself: for every genuinely insightful moment, those when
Harto lets her guard down and really connects with readers on an
emotional level, there is a failed, exaggerated joke to quickly spoil
the moment.
It
is difficult to tell what, exactly, the book is meant to be, and I
have a feeling that it would be much more effective if Harto
had chosen a single shtick. Is it a memoir made out of fake recipes?
A self-help book disguised as some sort of hilarious romp? An actual
recipe book peppered (ha) with autobiographical anecdotes? My
Drunk Kitchen
is, in its way, all three at once, and thus simultaneously none of
the above. It
provides an enjoyable, though temporary, diversion for an
afternoon despite
its flaws, and it is beautiful as a physical object. Harto and her
photographer hit the
mark
time and again, and the overall design is bold, aesthetically
pleasing, and perfectly suited- and connected- to the text. And
though she sometimes
disappoints, shying away from too-personal revelations
and
the vulnerability they introduce,
there's a convincing honesty to Harto's work, a sense that- despite
the occasionally overblown attempts at humor- she's right there
struggling, failing, and succeeding along with the rest of us. My
Drunk Kitchen
may not have met my expectations, but it was worth
the short amount of time it asked of me and I might, if drunk enough,
even dare to try a recipe or two.
Grade:
B+
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