The Radleys

Do you secretly love vampires, but prefer them not to sparkle in sunlight and fall easily in love with mortals? Perhaps you think creatures of the night should suffer from rashes and be myopic. Meat-eater, sure, but give them migraines from the lack of fresh blood. If you are bemused or annoyed by Edward Cullan's good looks, try Rowan Radley in Matt Haig's entertaining--if a little alarming--novel of modern-day vampires trying to "pass".

Peter and Helen Radley gave up the wild life of drinking blood and flying off (and I mean literally)to terribly romantic places like Prague and Paris for a feast. They no longer feel it's proper, when raising a family, to bite the neighbors (or the unsuspecting tourist or homeless wanderer). They don't even share each other's blood. All this is for the sake of the children who know nothing of what they are or where they come from.Naturally, the children are geeky and misfitting in the English suburbs and Peter and Helen have fallen into a bloodless, er, loveless marriage. So much restraint, so British, so doomed.

Their neat, uneventful, and somewhat unhappy lives are turned in an instant when daughter Clara is assaulted by a fellow student and lashes out with all she's got (and never knew she had), and guess what? She rather enjoys herself. Turns out, vampires kind of need blood to feel whole. Oh, sure abstaining has its benefits (mostly to society), but there's nothing like the power of fresh blood. Clara enjoys bringing out those sharp incisors:

She had fun in the mirror, transforming herself, watching her canine teeth lengthen andsharpen. Dracula.

Not Dracula.

Dracula.

Not Dracula.

Dracula.

She studies her curved white fangs. She touches them, presses the points in the pad of her thumb. A fat blob of blood appears, shining like a cherry. She tastes it and enjoys the moment before making herself look fully human again.

Dilemma. Dilemma. Enter Peter's brother, an infamous vampire (oh yes, there's a whole network of them, based primarily in Manchester) who brings with him not just unsavory habits but a secret from Helen's past. He claims to be there to help Clara avoid prosecution or even suspicion, but things quickly turn for the worse.

As the kids get more handsome and popular due to, um, newly developed habits, Peter and Helen's neatly-constructed world begins to crumble. In the end we have to decide if there is room for abstainers in the world of vampires and whether vampires can be part of respected British society Matt Haig makes it worth finding out with The Radleys.

American Terroir. Savoring the Flavors...

It turns out I've been making and drinking coffee all wrong. Apparently dark roast does not translate to better coffee (must be the French in me). This sad realization was the only stressful bit of information I gathered from American Terroir. Rowan Jacobsen's search for the somewhat elusive examples of terroir (taste of place) in America mostly made me want to eat better food. It also explained why my Vermont-heritage husband prefers that pale version of maple syrup called "fancy" and why hard cider isn't as common (or often as good) as the European version. I learned a ton and even plan to follow a few of the recipes Jacobsen thoughtfully includes at the end of each chapter.

The book is loosely based on a day's normal progression through meals: It starts with maple syrup and coffee and ends with cheese and chocolate with pit stops in all sorts of places and foods, like Yukon King salmon and avocados from Mexico. Jacobsen blends anecdotes with lessons about taste and history, not unlike a good wine critic. In fact, speaking of wine, he didn't make me want to trust California wines any more than I already do (or don't), but now I feel like I understand why it tends to be sweeter than European wine. I also learned some disturbing tricks and gimmicks wine makers subject our wine to. Jacobsen seems to have it in particularly for Australian wine producers, but like the coffee chapter, I may plug my ears, sing lalala and keep drinking coffee and wine the same way I always have.


Even when he's not snarking (gently) on inferior product, Jacobsen's writing is quite entertaining. The cheese chapter (Vermont) begins with: In composition and behavior, a cheese is not unlike a dead body. It starts off fresh and springy and ends up ripe and runny. And yes, that made me still want to seek out Jasper Hill cheese.


In fact, I made a list of things to try: I will seek out local honey (probably waiting for summer farmer's market to start up again), I will try Taza chocolate, Jasper Hill cheese and--with two lactose intolerant people in the family--I will definitely try the berry tartlets with avocado cream recipe. I know avocado is very fatty but it's the good kind and Jacobsen swears it can replace artery-clogging cream in baking. I'll have to get back to you all on that, but feel free to pick up your own copy of American Terroir. Savoring the Flavors of Our Woods, Waters, and Fields if you don't want to wait.