I've been reading this food memoir by Gabrielle Hamilton of Prune, from which the title of this post is excerpted. A little overwritten (she's an MFA as well as a chef) and a little self-aggrandizing (what chef is not?), but Hamilton otherwise holds a steady eye (and nose) for significant detail (e.g. her description of the buckwheat flour galettes from provincial France, filled with jambon and Gruyere, then folded four times to make a square of a circle).
One theme of Hamilton's book is the dignity that we either give or take away from food via its preparation. She chronicles years spent in catering kitchens with no natural light, shuttling out hundreds of bruschetta served on toasts that have been sitting under plastic in a garage for a week. The oven can either be a place to raise food from the material to the ethereal, or a crematorium for badly conceived, poorly executed designs. Whether you use a microwave or a solar oven, the choices we make in food preparation say a lot about us. At Berenbaum's, every time we bake, we strive for deep flavor, careful production, good ingredients, proper presentation, and authentic recipes.