Published in 1943, Fisher writes of her growing love affair of food, from a childhood in California to her early adulthood in Europe. She writes also of the changing political climate in France and Switzerland. It's really a combination of food and memoir, but I grew frustrated because of the huge gaps in the autobiography. There were some jumps in her story (though occasionally she went back and explained) that drove me mad. An enjoyable book, but not so extraordinary that I'm feeling a need to rush out and read all of her books.