A review by myhreemma
Taste: My Life Through Food by Stanley Tucci

3.0

This felt impersonal at best and conflated-and-out-of-touch at worst. I'm paraphrasing, but there's this moment when he's talking about how he couldn't make rent for one (1) month in his younger years in New York. But he was too prideful to ask his parents to help him cover rent, and notes that they totally could, and instead shuffled down to this acting guild for rent support. It's moments like this where he tries to seem down to earth by explaining moments of being... poor? And that's not why we picked up this book, right? He obviously had and has privilege. It's a celebrity memoir. And I thought this was about food.