"Ruth is able to lay down her trademark style, sharing herself in a voice that is both historical and deeply confessional."

Ruth Reichl is one of the most acclaimed food writers of our time. Her memoirs, Comfort Me With Apples, Garlic & Sapphires, and Tender at the Bone strike a chord with most food enthusiasts. She writes poetically about the dishes she prepares and consumes in a life full of indulgence. She has given us insight into the life of a high-powered restaurant critic. And she welcomes us to her kitchen table, while bestowing life lessons and a sense of deep appreciation upon her readers.

I am a sometimes-fan of Ruth's. I would never question her palate or judgment of cuisine, but at times her flowery writing and heavy use of adjectives wears on me. So when I saw that she recently re-released For You Mom, Finally, her latest memoir which has very little to do with food, I was interested to see what other writing style she could adapt.

This short book is a dedication to Reichl's mother. After Miriam Reichl died, Ruth found herself sifting through a box of letters and journal entries spanning her mother's entire life. It is easy to be drawn into the spiraling, conflicted emotions that Ruth felt for a mother she never quite understood. She takes us through an abridged biography of her mother's life, constantly referring back to the written evidence of turmoil and disappointment felt by a woman unsure of her place in the world.

At its heart, Miriam's life was a quest to be satisfied in her role as an American woman. Reaching adulthood in the 1920s meant strong expectation of marriage, and when she was still single at twenty-eight, even her parents began voicing concerns. Her first marriage was unhappy and ended in divorce, a fate at the time almost more shameful than spinsterhood. Miriam's confidence suffered and she was lost without a career or sense of purpose.

She found happiness in a second marriage to Ruth's father, Ernst Reichl. But she was unsatisfied still with the life of a woman wedded to the home and kitchen. In something of a poignant irony, Ruth's mother hated cooking and felt oppressed by the kitchen. She began falling into spirals of depression, followed by heavy medication and emotional outbursts.

Through all of this tumult, Ruth struggled to form a meaningful relationship with her mother. She had a strong sense of independence, no doubt aided by the feminist movement, but also married early. Both of these traits isolated Ruth from her mother, and led to a lack of mutual understanding that lasted until her mother's death.

The Reichl women never quite heard each other over the din of societal expectation and stubborn self-reliance. But Ruth's reflection on her mother is touching and provides a bridge to generations past. Ruth is able to lay down her trademark style, sharing herself in a voice that is both historical and deeply confessional. This is not a book about food—it is a book about love and misunderstanding, reaching into the past so we might fulfill the present. But if we are to really know one of the most prolific food writers of this generation, it is worth it to take the trip into her past—and return with a much better sense of why and how she has become the figure she is today.

About the Author: A student in Providence, Rhode Island, Leah Douglas loves consuming and learning about as much food as possible. She blogs at Feasting on Providence.