I know in the song from “Grease” it’s “Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee” but I don’t care – it should have been Sandra Lee because she’s flippin’ awesome. Oh Sandy… I just finished her memoir, Made From Scratch and take my word for it, it is a MUST READ!!!
I laughed, I cried, I felt very confused and uncomfortable; all of my favorite emotions tied up in just 269 pages. Poor Sandy really has been through a lot – her pill-popping mom abandoned her then when she finally came back she beat her, she raised her siblings single-handedly, she lost all her money, her grammy died, she had to make that Kurtain Kraft Krap… then she had to travel the globe, become a “lifestyle expert,” star on a Food Network show, and become a New York Times bestselling author. Let me tell you pal, it was a real rollercoaster.
A few passages in particular I will always hold near and dear to my heart; I particularly loved when Sandypoo tried to offer an explanation for the booze-cruise that is Semi-Homemade; "The cocktail segment was never intended to become a regular part of the show. During my first week of filming, I decided to demonstrate one of my favorite cocktails, Jamaican Rum Punch. I made the drink many times before so I felt comfortable with free-pouring the liquor without measuring the amount I was using… I got caught up in keeping eye contact with the camera and forgot to monitor the amount of run I poured into the pitcher (page 215)."
Sure you did Sandy…
I also felt all toasty inside when Sandy would cite her most beloved passages at the beginning of each chapter. Best of which was her Survivor quotation; “I’m back on my feet, just a man and his will to survive... I’ve got the eye of the tiger (page 217).” If you don’t think that’s funny, check your pulse.
Seriously though, it is a wonderful book and it made me like Sandra even more than before. It made me sympathize with her rough childhood enough that I didn’t feel resentful when she finally found success completely by her own merit and determination, (which I think is the response she was going for).
Sadly, there is neither an explanation as to how the two soufflés on her chest miraculously rose, nor does she offer a reason for why her “parties” are never attended by anyone except maybe her niece and nephew – maybe I’m alone on this, but I find pre-teens and pitchers of booze to be a very maladroit situation. Can’t she at least hire fake friends to come over and see her elaborate tablescapes? I’m sure Michael Chiarello knows where to rent some…
I laughed, I cried, I felt very confused and uncomfortable; all of my favorite emotions tied up in just 269 pages. Poor Sandy really has been through a lot – her pill-popping mom abandoned her then when she finally came back she beat her, she raised her siblings single-handedly, she lost all her money, her grammy died, she had to make that Kurtain Kraft Krap… then she had to travel the globe, become a “lifestyle expert,” star on a Food Network show, and become a New York Times bestselling author. Let me tell you pal, it was a real rollercoaster.
A few passages in particular I will always hold near and dear to my heart; I particularly loved when Sandypoo tried to offer an explanation for the booze-cruise that is Semi-Homemade; "The cocktail segment was never intended to become a regular part of the show. During my first week of filming, I decided to demonstrate one of my favorite cocktails, Jamaican Rum Punch. I made the drink many times before so I felt comfortable with free-pouring the liquor without measuring the amount I was using… I got caught up in keeping eye contact with the camera and forgot to monitor the amount of run I poured into the pitcher (page 215)."
Sure you did Sandy…
I also felt all toasty inside when Sandy would cite her most beloved passages at the beginning of each chapter. Best of which was her Survivor quotation; “I’m back on my feet, just a man and his will to survive... I’ve got the eye of the tiger (page 217).” If you don’t think that’s funny, check your pulse.
Seriously though, it is a wonderful book and it made me like Sandra even more than before. It made me sympathize with her rough childhood enough that I didn’t feel resentful when she finally found success completely by her own merit and determination, (which I think is the response she was going for).
Sadly, there is neither an explanation as to how the two soufflés on her chest miraculously rose, nor does she offer a reason for why her “parties” are never attended by anyone except maybe her niece and nephew – maybe I’m alone on this, but I find pre-teens and pitchers of booze to be a very maladroit situation. Can’t she at least hire fake friends to come over and see her elaborate tablescapes? I’m sure Michael Chiarello knows where to rent some…
1 comment:
You write very well.
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