I loved the beginning of this book, and liked at least half of it very much. Villas' staunch defense of okra, fruitcake and canned tuna made me grin. He's a good writer, and a funny one. The book began to pale, for me, when he ventured out of his ancestral foodways and into restaurant criticism touched with some what felt to me like gratuitous sneering at the less fortunate who can't jet off to the France for the latest wine. ( )