Two literary feasts to look forward to: Insatiable (Warner), a memoir by Gael Greene, and Heat (Knopf), Bill Buford's account of training under superstar chef Mario Batali. It is no surprise that both are "seriously" written. Greene has been the oft-controversial sex-it-up columnist at New York magazine for 30 years; Buford was editor of Granta then fiction editor at The New Yorker. Significant, too, is both writers' ability to embed themselves in the lives—and, in Greene's case, sometimes the beds—of their subjects. But these aren't gross-out kitchen exposés, they're instead Trollopian—yes, Trollopian—accounts of how we eat now.
Do you eat in the nude?