Tuesday Intros~ The Lost Art of Mixing by Erica Bauermeister

Every Tuesday Diane @ Bibliophile by the Sea hosts First Chapter, First Paragraph where we share the first paragraph or two of a book we are reading or thinking about reading soon.  Feel free to grab the image and participate. 

The Lost Art of Mixing by Erica Bauermeister

My Tuesday Intro Pick is The Lost Art of Mixing by Erica Bauermeister. I read and loved Erica's first book The School of Essential Ingredients, (read my review here) so I knew that I had to read  the sequel.  It's actually one of my favorite books and I featured it in my new blog header at the top of my blog. You can see the book featured on my favorites bookshelf, right in the middle! I am reading an e-galley on my kindle and it's already pulled me in. Since I am on spring break this week, I expect to finish it quickly. Although this may be the kind of book that I don't want to end quickly. 

Here are the first two paragraphs from an excerpt posted on the authors website, go here to read the rest of the excerpt. 

THE LOST ART of MIXING

PROLOGUE

Lillian stood at the restaurant kitchen counter, considering the empty expanse in front of her. It was a Monday morning at the end of December and the restaurant held the calm that occurred only after the onslaught of holiday feasts, the culmination of a culinary season that began in the fall. In those months of ever shorter days, sometimes the only ingredients Lillian’s customers could be bothered to take from their own kitchen cabinets were boxes of macaroni and cheese, bread for toast, and the restaurant provided both memory and inspiration—golden half-globes of squash awash in butter, a lamb shank braised with the patience it would take to get through winter. After the exhilaration that was summer in the Pacific Northwest, autumn was like the sigh of an adolescent who realizes he must indeed grow up. It was Lillian’s job to remind the people who sat at her tables that being an adult, the passing of a season or a year, was about more than just being older.

Still, Lillian thought, sometimes it was nice to be in the hush of an empty kitchen, without the heat of the ovens, the extra bodies of prep cooks and,dishwashers and bussers and servers. This was what fed her—this moment of stillness, the long, cool stretch of the counters and the give of the thick rubber mat beneath her feet.

What do you think? Would you keep on reading 

or move on to something else?