The Truffle Book wins an award!

I don't think I've ever won a proper award for my writing. I did win the Printing World award for the worst headline of the Royal Wedding (Charles, well known Truffle Book fan, to Diana): a story about a particularly awful Royal Wedding money box gained the title Saving Up For A Reigny Di. So the news that The Truffle Book had won a Special Jury Award in the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards was a most excellent Christmas present. In order to collect my award, and to see if I've won any more, I have to head off to Beijing in April for the awards ceremony. Being a one man and a (truffle) dog company, that's a challenge - but one that may be met by raiding my wife's extensive airpoints stash. I'll be in good company - Julie Biuso is also headed to Beijing, and Annabel Langbein won an award last year. The organisers are also threatening to make the Awards dinner a "truffle summit" with luminaries like Edouard Loubet from la belle France. And me.

I won't let it go to my already large head.

Thursday, January 11, 2007 9:18 pm (permalink)

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The Truffle Book

Winner of the Special Jury Award at the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards. "Absolutely rivetting" - a well-known prince. Available as softback, limited edition hardback, and PDF. Free sample PDF.

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current reading

It's taking me far too long to read this. I have been a fan of Pynchon since reading Gravity's Rainbow as a student. Against The Day strikes me as one of his most approachable novels, full of fantastic characters and wild invention, but I've been busy doing word things, and sometimes the last thing I want to do is read. But this is like fine wine, keeps tempting me to another glass. At 1085 pages, I'll be squiffy before I'm finished.

just read

I've read two books called Heat in the last month. One was damn scary, and one was by George Monbiot, about global warming (which has a fantastic cover). Some would say I've been and gone and had my mid-life crisis, but it didn't involve doing an apprenticeship at the altar of real Italian cuisine and a tyrannical chef. Bill Buford is not me, and for that I'm grateful. I suspect he may be too. I enjoyed it - the kitchen stuff was pretty compelling (as was the Italian butcher I may just have to visit next time I'm on Italian truffle time), but somehow the whole thing didn't hang together. I know where Bill's coming from - and I can sort of sense where he went - but his own motivation (and his family's reaction) remain mysterious.