Blood, Bones & Butter by Gabrielle Hamilton- Review & Commentary

If you recognize this commercial, we grew up together.

I remember the expectation this perpetuated for women- you can work a full time job, make dinner for your family every night and be a sex goddess with energy to spare. Makes me tired just thinking about it.

I just finished Blood, Bones & Butter by Gabrielle Hamilton. It is a memoir that chronicles her journey with food. What really struck me and kept me reading, was the honesty. She pulled no punches about how difficult the restaurant business is for a woman, and doubly so for one with a family. There is a scene where she is at a panel where she is meant to talk to young women entering the restaurant industry about what it is like for a woman in food. She goes in thinking the panelists will be honest about the heaviness of the work, but instead is shocked by the whitewashed vision the other panelists portray for the young women. It reminded me of the archaic personas we embrace about women. Restaurant work is messy. You unplug toilets. You clean grease traps. You butcher and truss animals. You work 18 hour days, every day. It is not romantic.

You know what else is not romantic? Motherhood. And Hamilton paints that picture as well. There is the nightmare of finding care. The days of childhood sickness. The days of teething, whining, and general neediness. The inconvenience of breastfeeding, especially in public where stigma is so rampant. Not romantic. Fulfilling, like “killing the line” on a busy night, but not romantic.

The thing that I liked best about this book is how it made me think about women’s roles in society and how bullshit our expectations are in respect to that gender, which is really a societal construct anyway.

Hamilton’s style is laden with description. Her tone is unapologetic. Her experience is relatable. This read made me appreciate my dogeared copy of Prune and Hamilton’s meticulous cooking even more.

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