Cheesecake A novel

In this novel from prolific food nonfiction author Kurlansky, greed drives Greek immigrant Art to acquire Manhattan real estate, evicting residents to hike up rents. One such unlucky tenant, former caterer Mimi, earns just enough to warrant an unaffordable rent increase. Leading up to the eve of her eviction, Mimi decides to host one last dinner party, planning to astound guests with Cato's cheesecake. Named for Cato the Elder of ancient Rome, the recipe is interwoven into lives throughout the novel--Art once commanded his sister-in-law to make this the centerpiece dessert in his family's restaurant. The ancient recipe contains few instructions and a blur of ingredients. Like landlord's rights, it's mostly left up to interpretation. Fictional life mirrors reality, so there is no perfect ending for Kurlansky's vibrant characters. But Cato's cheesecake allows them to thrive in spite of the odds stacked against them. This tale will reward fans of the Tales of the City series, who will enjoy the twinge of irony served alongside a story of rich, Manhattan-infused life and honey-laced, fresh goat's milk cheesecake.

The satisfying latest work of fiction from Kurlansky (also a journalist known for food writing such as The Core of an Onion), chronicles a Greek family's pursuit of the American dream. The Katsikases immigrate to New York City in the 1970s. Upon arrival, they're dazzled not by the Statue of Liberty but the towering Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. Niki, his brother Art, Art's "spellbindingly beautiful" wife Adara, and their toddler Henry settle in Queens and open a diner on the Upper West Side called Katz Brothers, hoping the neighborhood will "someday be a place for rich people." By the early '80s, the diner becomes a local favorite, thanks to their goat cheese (Adara raises goats at home) and a cheesecake derived from a recipe by ancient Roman historian Cato the Elder. Trouble brews when Niki's greed gets the best of him, and he launches a scheme to rehab the neighborhood by buying up properties and using "strong-arm" tactics to force evictions. Kurlansky keeps the plot gliding along, thanks to the larger-than-life Katsikases and a host of affable peripheral characters who bemoan the ravages of gentrification. There's plenty of substance to this delectable feast. (July)

An ancient Roman recipe finds its way to modern Manhattan. Kurlansky's novel is equally concerned with food and real estate as it charts the Upper West Side's evolution from the 1970s through the '90s. A large cast of quirky characters congregates at the Katz Brothers Greek diner on West 86th Street, drawn by the best cheese dishes they've ever tasted--even though it's "not exactly legal" for the Katsikas family to raise goats and make cheese in Queens. The area is "a bit down on its luck," but Art, the family entrepreneur, sees a neighborhood "in transition," which means rich people will be arriving soon. It's not good news for tenants and diners when Art buys their building from its defaulting owner in the early '80s and transforms Katz Brothers into trendy Mykonos. This is where Marcus Porcius Cato's 160 B.C.E. recipe for cheesecake enters the story, as Art asks sister-in-law Adara to translate Cato's "incomprehensible" instructions into an edible cheesecake he can tout as "the oldest known written recipe." Kurlansky is primarily a writer of nonfiction, and his inexperience as a novelist shows occasionally as the narrative zigzags among characters defined more by their backstories--artists' model Violette de Lussac, TV producer Saul Putz ("pronouncedpootz"), biologist-turned-pastry-maker Mimi Landau, et al.--than distinct personalities. It doesn't really matter, though, because the atmosphere he creates is vivid and oh-so-New York, with one denouement at Saul's daughter Masha's bat mitzvah, where a rival version of Cato's cheesecake is served, and another at a blowout party the night before Mimi loses her apartment, for which she and her friend Gerta make yetanother version of Cato's cheesecake and figure out the perfect way to get back at her evicting landlord. Good fun, though it's hard to imagine what non--New Yorkers will make of it. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.