Book Review—Home Made: A Story of Grief, Groceries, Showing Up–and What We Make When We Make Dinner
Home Made: A Story of Grief, Groceries, Showing Up—and What We Make When We Make Dinner, Liz Hauck, Random House Books, 9780525512431, 2021, 376 pages, $27.00 hardback.
I’ll admit, when I first picked up this book, I was skeptical. The firsthand account of a white teacher as she runs a cooking program at a group home with primarily Black and Latinx boys seemed prime for savior complexes and condescension. I’m thrilled to say that I was wrong. This book is moving, and I could not put it down. We open on Hauck navigating the recent death of her father, who served as a staff member at “The House” for decades. The House is a facility for male youth not in the custody of their families. In the depth of her grief, Hauck finds herself remembering the many meals she and her father prepared together and how he believed food was key to human connection.
Hauck herself admits she isn’t sure if she began the program to serve the adolescents or to feel closer to her father. I suspect it’s a little of both. She arrives at The House with groceries and recipes in tow every week to enjoy an hour of cooking and an hour of eating with the teens. Without realizing it, Hauck embraces the social work value of self-determination whole heartedly. The boys she works with decided the menu each week. They are not required to cook, and they are always welcome to invite guests to the table.
Conversations about race are frank and direct in this book. Hauck listens to the Black and Latinx teens talk about being stopped by police for walking down the street, and how they’re treated in juvenile detention centers or prisons. She quickly arrives at introspection about her whiteness and perception of police. Many of the teens in this book are incarcerated at the end, and Hauck reflects on this readily.
When we begin social work, there are unexpected challenges. I call them “tiny heartbreaks,” and they often go hand in hand with disillusionment. Reading as Hauck navigates several of these was rough, and I often wanted to climb into the book to assist. The most moving tiny heartbreak she faces happens when a few of the boys she’s working with never return to the house. Who among us doesn’t have a client we still wonder about? It’s a unique sort of grief and worry that Hauck wrestles with throughout the book.
Hauck’s writing about the wrecking loss of her father is poignant, honest, and painful. She speaks to the many different little pains that come with grief. Forgetting for moments that they’re gone and going to call them. Thinking about arguments or issues that will never be resolved now. Calling their voicemail box repeatedly to hear their voices. Hauck covers all of these, softening the reader with childhood memories or reminiscing about her father’s quirks.
Overall, I recommend this book. Whether you’re a veteran social worker or a newbie, you’ll find value here. After all, we all have to eat, and Hauck makes you feel welcome at her table.
Reviewed by Libby Trammell (she/her/hers), Missouri LMSW, Program Manager, Healing Action.
