I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti by Giulia Melucci | Fiction, Romance | DONNE TEMPO
I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti by Giulia Melucci
by Madeline Muravchik
I felt an instant connection with the title of Giulia Melucci’s recent book I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti (Grand Central Publishing, ISBN: 9780446534420).
Not only do I often seek comfort in the form of calories, I’m pretty sure that spaghetti is proof of a benevolent Higher Power somewhere in the universe. Fortunately, Melucci has more than just a good title. Her writing style is frank and easy to read as she depicts several of her past relationships and the meals she was inspired to make in response to her romantic ups and downs.
One
thing that did bother me was there are actually
way more downs than ups – as Melucci, who has
never been married, readily admits. Therefore my
ultimate assessment of the book is mixed. I
enjoyed her openness and ability to poke fun at
herself while discussing her quest to find love.
It is a struggle that I, and I imagine many other women, can relate to.
Yet I became frustrated reading over and over again about relationships that seem to have clear warning signals portending their doom from the very beginning and then do indeed fail. The outcomes were hardly a surprise. It caused a sense of dissonance.
On one hand, Melucci comes across as likable, funny, and intelligent. Yet on the other, she seems to have a giant blind spot when it comes to picking men. And it’s hard to read about one train wreck of a romance after another, especially when what’s in store is obvious to everyone but her.
I’m still not sure whether the author simply didn’t see these fatal flaws or if she just chose to ignore them for the sake of optimism or perhaps for the sake of effective storytelling. After all, there really isn’t much suspense in saying I dated an alcoholic, or a guy that wasn’t that into me, or a psychopath, or someone with commitment/sexual/honesty/fill-in-the-blank-you-get-the-picture issues for a while, but we broke up. And if we didn’t get any of the nitty-gritty, we wouldn’t get any of the recipes.
Now I have to be honest. I’m not much of a cook so it’s difficult for me to judge if a recipe is good or not. Reading them, they seem yummy and simple to prepare. Yet, I wondered if a true culinary novice like myself could really pull them off successfully if without further guidance.
Regardless, the inclusion of the recipes does seem to work in the context of the book. We understand that the author’s sincerest attempts to express love are made with food. Furthermore, by being offered the details of the meals she prepared and consumed with instructions on how to recreate them, the reader feels a proximity to the unfolding events that wouldn’t exist with narration alone.
Also, Melucci’s relaxed competence in the kitchen is a welcome counterbalance to her incompetence in the love arena, which makes her a more sympathetic character. And she’s got some good one-liners in those recipes. Bottom line: Dive in.
If you like it, you might celebrate with the Unforgettable Halibut or the Victory Breakfast. If not, perhaps Calming Coq au Vin or even F--- You Cakes are in order.
I felt an instant connection with the title of Giulia Melucci’s recent book I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti (Grand Central Publishing, ISBN: 9780446534420).
Not only do I often seek comfort in the form of calories, I’m pretty sure that spaghetti is proof of a benevolent Higher Power somewhere in the universe. Fortunately, Melucci has more than just a good title. Her writing style is frank and easy to read as she depicts several of her past relationships and the meals she was inspired to make in response to her romantic ups and downs.
It is a struggle that I, and I imagine many other women, can relate to.
Yet I became frustrated reading over and over again about relationships that seem to have clear warning signals portending their doom from the very beginning and then do indeed fail. The outcomes were hardly a surprise. It caused a sense of dissonance.
On one hand, Melucci comes across as likable, funny, and intelligent. Yet on the other, she seems to have a giant blind spot when it comes to picking men. And it’s hard to read about one train wreck of a romance after another, especially when what’s in store is obvious to everyone but her.
I’m still not sure whether the author simply didn’t see these fatal flaws or if she just chose to ignore them for the sake of optimism or perhaps for the sake of effective storytelling. After all, there really isn’t much suspense in saying I dated an alcoholic, or a guy that wasn’t that into me, or a psychopath, or someone with commitment/sexual/honesty/fill-in-the-blank-you-get-the-picture issues for a while, but we broke up. And if we didn’t get any of the nitty-gritty, we wouldn’t get any of the recipes.
Now I have to be honest. I’m not much of a cook so it’s difficult for me to judge if a recipe is good or not. Reading them, they seem yummy and simple to prepare. Yet, I wondered if a true culinary novice like myself could really pull them off successfully if without further guidance.
Regardless, the inclusion of the recipes does seem to work in the context of the book. We understand that the author’s sincerest attempts to express love are made with food. Furthermore, by being offered the details of the meals she prepared and consumed with instructions on how to recreate them, the reader feels a proximity to the unfolding events that wouldn’t exist with narration alone.
Also, Melucci’s relaxed competence in the kitchen is a welcome counterbalance to her incompetence in the love arena, which makes her a more sympathetic character. And she’s got some good one-liners in those recipes. Bottom line: Dive in.
If you like it, you might celebrate with the Unforgettable Halibut or the Victory Breakfast. If not, perhaps Calming Coq au Vin or even F--- You Cakes are in order.