This is one of those cases where the writer should have hired a ghost writer. Shockey manages to make almost anything boring, including her own perfection. I've read a lot of food memoirs and this was one of the least inspiring. She even includes recipes in an attempt to make the book more interesting, which makes minimal difference. Her writing style is just such a snorefest that it overrides anything else that might make this a worthwhile read. Don't bother.