I'm giving this book three stars because I can't do what I'd really like to, which is to give it both five stars and one star at the same time. It is a beautiful, well-written yet disempowering, inspiring and infuriating collection of recipes and information.
Full-page photographs occupy nearly every other leaf of this massive volume; open it anywhere and you're almost certain to be assaulted by an intoxicating obscenity of color and texture that will tweak your salivary glands into involuntary action.
Less attractively, The Blue Chair never stops working very, very hard to sell you a particular fantasy lifestyle. In this respect it's evocative of early Martha Stewart, because the author herself is packaged in a panoply of pretty poses along with the fruit spreads. She appears over and over again -- picking fruit, holding fruit, cutting and stirring fruit. Always her clothing is impeccably matched to the fruit she is picking or the blossoms she is snipping. Always her hair is perfectly coiffed. Never is there a hint of effort or haste or dissarray. These images are so brazenly fantastic that I can't help feeling manipulated.
But perhaps I'm just in a sour mood? After all, isn't there a place for fantasy? Must I ascribe such dark motives? Might it all have been meant in good fun?
Maybe. But what most seriously damages this book for me is the sheer impracticality, often bordering on impossiblity, of so many of the recipes. The author runs her jam company in an affluent city, in one of the best areas of the country for fruit growers. It makes perfect sense for her to base her company there and to make the best of the amazing ingredients she has access to, but she does not seem aware of how fortunate she is to have such resources. Out of perfectionism or mere obliviousness, she's written a book the browsing of which is an exercise in frustration. If your local grocery or farmers' market doesn't offer bergamots, pluots, apriums, green almonds, olallieberries, boysenberries, elderberries, geranium blossoms, fresh currants, citrons, crabapples and quinces, then broad swaths of the recipes will be impossible to carry out. Others will come withing range only as compromised approximations, unless you can obtain preciously specific varieties of fruit like Rangpur limes, Flavorella plumcots, Santa Rosa plums, Montmorency cherries, Flavor King Pluots and Tempranillo grapes.
This is definitely not a bad book. The first forty-odd pages convey a nuanced understanding of the differences between various sorts of jams, jellies and marmalades. Jam-making techniques and processes are described in sensual terms that prepare the reader to understand and react to what they'll be seeing and hearing and smelling if they should actually decide to make some jam. Those early pages alone make the book worth a serious look. But my primary expectation of any cookbook is that it be empowering, that it help me prepare and enjoy foods that I couldn't have enjoyed without its help. In too many ways, this book provides the opposite experience. Browsing the recipes is like being teased on a playground, taunted with visions of fun that is largely out of reach.