Hungry: A Memoir by Darlene Barnes 641.5 Bar

A professional chef with no formal training takes a job as the house cook for a fraternity at the University of Washington. Over the next six years, Darlene Barnes battles inadequate facilities and equipment, government inspections, picky eaters, lousy food supplies, and the occasional rat. She also learns how much it means to college kids to have good, healthy food prepared by someone who cares -- and how easy it is to become an integral part of their lives.

Though not her first job in the food profession, having worked in supermarket delis, dive restaurants, and most recently as a private chef to a Dallas billionaire, Darlene finds this particular position to be by far the most rewarding. This is not only because of the supreme control she has over nearly every aspect of the food decisions (a level of control that had been completely missing in all her previous jobs), but also because she is able to elevate the level of food service the young men in this fraternity -- and, as it turns out, a number of sorority girls whom she dubs "the food bandits" -- receive by insisting on great ingredients for meals to be prepared *by her* on-site. She is an anomaly among her peers, who are mostly nothing more than microwave re-heaters of tasteless, nutrition-less, frozen, packaged meals. Some of the food bandits described what their "chef" offered: "Just chicken...And then some kind of sh** on it...A different kind every day." Meanwhile, Darlene's "boys" ate everything from asparagus to zucchini, beef to salmon, kosher to meat-free Lenten meals, all made from fresh, mostly local, ingredients.

In addition to providing the meals, Darlene becomes part of the family. Her kitchen becomes a meeting place, and Darlene herself becomes a sounding board, a sympathetic ear, and a friend to many of the boys.

Comedy, some tragedy, and plenty of recipes are found in this engaging, though very quick, read. I finished it in one day, in part because of its length and in part because I couldn't seem to put it down.