I just wanted to add my five to boost his already--and deservedly--high ranking. Brigade is the piece that led me to McPhee, and to Oranges and The Headmaster, both unforgettable to me.

To my head, heart, and soul, the finest writer of nonfiction ever. Warm, humane, observant, witty--just a marvel to me.

I like expansive landscape descriptions, sympathetic character sketches, and canoe trips. I like John McPhee.

Typical McPhee so learned a bunch of new words. Five separate essays. All 3's except, The Pinball Philosophy - 2, Brigade de cuisine - 4

Just read the first and the last essays (about the NYC Greenmarkets and a chef, respectively). Both held my interest, although I did enjoy the latter more.

John McPhee has me questioning a lot of my life choices right now. How have I made it this far without ever tasting truffles? Why don't I treat myself to a proper feast, perhaps some grilled eel (a personal weakness, but it's been forever), some smoked shad-roe pâté mousse, or some good ol' stuffed clams, dammit. I made the mistake of reading his journalistic essay, Brigade de Cuisine, after tossing together a flopped experimental supper inspired by the vegetables rotting in my fridge, and I lay in bed with my mouth watering at the creations of the unnamed chef he observed on and off for a year. On the weekend I read a section aloud to a friend, describing rendered beef fat and pounding a pork loin with a wooden mallet, and he just stared at me: Why am I reading this, exactly? My usual reaction to red meat is revulsion (which I have ample opportunity to display; the cook at work's favourite hobby is shoving raw meat in my face), but John McPhee describes everything so tenderly that I would hunt down this chef if the essay wasn't written in the 1970's.

I recommend his essays on green markets in New York City and a canoe trip through Northern Maine with equal verve. You get the sense that McPhee really inhabits a place, marinates in its essence for months in order to write about it. The other two essays here were of less interest to me, but it's a well-rounded introduction to a keen mind.

I reserve my highest praise, however, for his chef d'oeuvre Annals of the Former World. I will visit this restaurant again.

Only John McPhee can make everything from cutting wood in the forests of the northeast to green markets in NYC to a floating nuclear reactor into an absorbing read. There's also a memorable description of an extraordinary chef preparing a a fresh octopus for dinner at his restaurant. I'll say no more.

Another great book from McPhee.

Good stories

A classic collection of essays. I've returned to this book many times over the years and find McPhee's writing among the best.

John McPhee is an amazing writer. His descriptive abilities are remarkable.

Read only "Brigade de Cuisine" and the story about pinball (read through half of "Giving Good Weight" before giving up), and the 4 stars rating apply only to these 2 essays. McPhee's writing is great, but his essays tend to be a tag draggy. He has this writing technique where he recites a long string of nouns to convey the magnitude of items being discussed, and this technique is repeated to the point of being irritating - especially when I don't really understand the jargon he uses (e.g. the names of french dishes in "Brigade de Cuisine"). As much as I liked "Brigade de Cuisine", I felt it could be half the length, so that one could reasonably expect to finish it in one sitting. Still, I found it a remarkably effective piece of writing, in that it achieved its goal of documenting the process of creating food of superlative quality and unfathomable complexity, as well as exploring the chef's motivations as an artist and idealist. A thoroughly memorable piece of work.

The title essay captures New York values beautifully. And the language! He has the Archie Bunker vernacular down which makes me homesick and tickled, both.