December 1, 2014

Book 35: My Drunk Kitchen

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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