For those that know me, the fact that I have pledged to try at least one of the eggplant recipes in this book if I try ALL the other recipes, is probably the most astounding review I could ever give a cookbook. But this is more than just a cookbook. It is a story of the way food both nurtures and cultivates memories and helps us work through our grief to find those tangible things in life that help us hold on in healthy ways. McKinnon writes beautifully about both her parents, but particularly her memories of her father. The book opens with a quote from Francis Weller's The Wild Edge of Sorrow: "Grief and love are sisters, woven together from the beginning. Their kinship reminds us that there is no love that does not contain loss and no loss that is not a reminder of the love we carry for what we once held close." McKinnon's father, Wai Keung Lui (Ken) worked at the then Flemington Markets (now Sydney Markets), the "largest wholesale fruit and vegetable market in Australia." (9) She narrates her childhood memories of a man who was "tenderhearted" and prepared food as an act of love and nourishment for his children, entertaining their whims and desires when he could. When Hetty wanted to try cheese, he brought home Kraft singles and then moved on to blocks of cheddar. And then there was the produce. Hetty McKinnon writes about vegetables with as much passion and interest as one might expect someone to detail a fine wine.

Organized alphabetically by vegetable, starting from "Asian greens" and ending with "Zucchini", McKinnon celebrates what vegetables have to offer, encouraging with a preface for each one, an investment in the pleasures of the vegetable itself, even before digging into the recipes. Since receiving this book a few months ago, I have cooked at least twenty of the recipes, with thirty or forty earmarked for "soon." Some are simple and easy stir fries, like "Stir-Fried Cauliflower with Capers, Chile and Parsley" while others are more involved and might require a visit to your local Asian grocery if you don't already go there regularly! While there is a definite Asian leaning toward many of the recipes, there are a wide variety of dishes represented: soups, loaves, salads, mains, sides, pickles, and even dessert (butternut squash tiramisu--I'm working up to it!)! Favorites thus far include "Seaweed, Tofu, and Sprout Soup"which was one of the best dashi-based soups I've ever made, and the "Cabbage and Kimchi Okonomiyaki," which I could eat every week and never tire of it. Dishes like "Ras el Hanout Cauliflower Wedges with Mashed Chickpeas" will help you make a list of spices to keep on hand as well as making sure you always have a can or two of chickpeas in your pantry. The "Red-Braised Brussels Sprouts and Tofu" reminded me so much of the red-cooked pork my mother used to make that my eyes filled with tears when I took my first bite. If you are new to cooking with seaweed, McKinnon's recipes really help illuminate the wide variety of seaweed and its different uses.

I praised McKinnon's To Asia, With Love: Everyday Asian Recipes and Stories From the Heart for this same thing, but it is important: the index! She indexes everything from breadcrumbs to za'atar. The only thing I couldn't find in the index is Maggi Seasoning sauce, which she seems to love, but I'm wondering if there's a copyright issue there. I went ahead and bought a bottle because I trust this woman--she's given me an even deeper love of vegetables and my dear departed mother is hopefully smiling down from Heaven to see it.

If you are trying to eat more vegetables and are happy with plant-based proteins, this book will give you an endless supply of ideas. If you are more omnivorous, many of the recipes can be used as accompaniments to meat. If you are someone who values meaningful words about food and love, read this book. ( )

The combination of the vegetable face on the cover and the subtitle mentioning family bonds led me to think this was going to be about tricking children into eating greens, bulking out the book by printing Instagrams on every third page.

Instead, the recipes show a specificity of thoughtfulness toward each type of vegetable. The recipe notes talk about flavours and techniques, explaining the choices in a way that makes the recipes exciting on their merits, without a bunch of generic hype and exclamation marks. I always appreciate this when I'm reading a recipe book cover to cover—I'm on page 500; you don't need to tell me it's "yummers", just tell me why there's fennel in it!

This gave me enough faith in the author to try handmade pasta for the first time (pici), which I was very happy with. ( )