This is one of the best things I've ever listened to—which I did NOT expect from an essay collection. Bragg reads 70-ish pieces of his nonfiction work, most of which have been previously published. Some are just a few minutes long; the longest runs for about fifteen. He covers A LOT of ground: football, fishing, book tour, his mama's cornbread, wardrobe concerns, New Orleans cuisine, natural disasters. These stories are compact, wistful, funny, and poignant. So good.

Part cookbook, part memoir, this collection is Bragg’s tribute to the south and his family in the form of stories and recipes. His mother cooks from memory; there aren’t any precise measurements or cooking times to be found but she peppers each recipe with tips and wisdom. Bragg’s writing is wistful, funny, and poignant, and his love for his material—both his mother and her cooking—is palpable throughout. His pitch-perfect narration adds even more to the stories.

Rick Bragg has become pure comfort listening for me: I especially love to listen to his stories while I'm cooking. This new collection compiles magazine essays from his decades writing for Garden and Gun and Southern Living. Some are piercingly poignant, like his tales of Harper Lee, Pat Conroy, a talented photographer, and his Aunt Jo (everyone needs an Aunt Jo). Others are laugh-out-loud funny, like his one about Tupperware, or what precisely is wrong with country music these days. While his books would make beautiful editions to any coffee table, I think I will always listen to Rick Bragg.