If you enjoy reading the little stories on food bloggers recipe pages, before the recipes are shown, then this is the book for you.

It had a lyrical quality to the writing. Thoughts of food, how we congregate around it and how it is a part of our lives are the themes in these musings.

This book is like a leisurely stroll with no end point in mind. Great for casual reading.

Found this book of essays to be an unexpected comfort and was pleased to include it in The Big Read: The Year in Reading, my best of the year longread essay on 2021 by the book for Zoomer magazine. (Article at related link.)

This book is an enigma of surprise. What an absolute wonder. Very well written and a pleasure to read. Hard to put down. Thank you to the author.

Bread and Water takes two basic ingredients and turns them into art with lyrical poetry and creative writing. I really enjoyed this work and think that any foodie would enjoy this artistic take on food writing.

Book received for free through NetGalley

I absolutely loved the idea of this book but couldn't fully get into it and found I kept putting it down and forgetting about it. As the published date already past I wanted to review what I've read so far. This book was written well and I loved the idea. It just wasn't my cup of tea at this time.

No mere cookbook, here is the reason for the devotion to bread, to a life away from the noise. It meditates on all those moments important to sustaining our humanity. It is lyrical, a b little profound and so alluring. I loved every word, every waking day in a place of comfort and found desire.

This is a beautiful lyrical book. I was drawn in by the cooking but found that I loved everything else too. The way that dee writes about her experiences and how food has shaped her is lovely. I love how she talks about "no hurrying an oven" and how everything is shaped differently in cooking by different hands. I liked how she talks about her sons and how they came to love cooking and call her for advice.

Thank you NetGalley for this ARC!

This is a set of essays, many published elsewhere previously, written by a woman who has been many things: a chef, a restaurant owner, a writer; mother, both married and single; a culinary student and a teacher; resident on farms and in cities and, as these essays are written, back on the farm that was originally set up by her grandparents. The essays are ruminations on life, reflections on choices both good and bad, an exploration of cause and consequence, and a meditation on - as the title suggests - food and water: the place of both in our lives, how they can impact on the way we live, the positives and negatives.

When I read a book like this I think, How can I find more books like this? What category do they come under? I'm not interested in reading just any essays on life; the focus on food and, I suspect, having a female author make these particularly appealing. I'm also not always interested in just reading about food for its own sake - the connection to life more generally, here, as well as the stories behind the growing and making of food, helps make these essays intensely readable and occasionally challenging.

Hobsbawn-Smith is writing these essays having moved back to the Canadian prairie. She reflects on many moments in her life, from horse riding as a teen to the area around her farm becoming a lake for seven years, with stories of her sons growing up in between. Sometimes she recounts stories for their own sake; more often she's thinking about what they mean - how they reflect and connect to other moments in her life, what they show about the importance of family and feeding each other, how she has come to be the person she is today.

I didn't always agree with the conclusions about life that Hobsbawn-Smith reaches; and I suspect that, given the differences between us (age, aspiration, location) she wouldn't have a problem with that. But I do feel challenged - reminded, rather - to consider food more meaningfully, to remember the love that making and giving food can show; to try and take life just a little slower; and to be more aware of where food comes from. Trying to be intensely locavore is something that works if you've got the time and the money, which is something society as a whole needs to struggle with - and it's not something that's particularly doable for me right now. But I can, for example, be more mindful of seasonality.

These essays were deeply enjoyable to read, both on an intellectual-challenge and -stimulation level and also as prose in and of itself. Hobsbawn-Smith writes beautifully of food, and nature, and experience; she has an entire essay of her love for a temperamental oven, which is a delight. She made me remember that food is more than fuel, that life can be lived slowly, and that doing so is worthwhile.