It has apparently been in continuous print eve since and you can pick up a soft cover version, if you don't have it already, for a pittance.
I quote the review at Amazon to save you looking it up (picture from the same source). I agree with the contents for the most part. A worthy read for the foodie.
Now finishing my second reading of this tremendous book, all the while suspecting that Waverly Root was really a well-disguised poseur and not really the erudite man-of-the-world he appears to have been, I have to finally admit that, in addition to being one hell of a fine writer, he must also have been one of the most broadly-informed gourmands ever. True, occassional anecdotes and opinions of his betray the fact that the book was originally published 50 years ago, but the scope and intimacy of his knowledge with pretty much every provincial outpost, grand boulevard, and Basque backwater in France is astounding. I suspect he read and took to heart the 1950s edition of the Larousse Gastronomique, since many of the culinary practices he describes hardly deviate from what the Great Book says, but he provides so many examples of eating experiences that could be nothing but first-hand that I have to conclude that he actually DID spend his 30+ years in France doing little but travelling, eating, and drinking. These culinary expeditions are a treasure now: many of the regions he sampled so amply have been globalized to oblivion. His enthusiastic, almost childlike [but, nonetheless, world-wise] forays into the Haut Pyrenees, for example, record a local tradition of farmhouse cooking that is no more. But he was no mere chronicler of foods: his essays are leavened with witty, insightful, broadly-informed and fascinating anecdotes and contextual notes geographical, historical, literary, and agricultural. In this sense, I believe he was one of the pioneers of the broad, anectdotal form of journalism that remains perhaps the most effective means of presenting the world to an armchair audience. I have to forgive his peculiarities. Even his apparent contempt for Champagne seems inconsequential when I read his descriptions of travelling into darkest Corsica, sampling the wild, unrefined local wines, and immediately perceiving their perfect suitability to the food of the region. I am not aware of any other food and wine writer from that era who so heartily insisted on describing food and wine as a marriage. He wrote 20 years before Richard Olney brought his own sophistications to the table, and, understood in this context, his predilections must have been radical at the time.
I urge you to read this book with a willingness to forgive the occassional signs of age. They are few and forgivable. Please savor the writing, with its erudition, lovely sense of timing and flow, gentle humor and enthusiasm. Please also consider it as the eloquent indictment of globalization that it is. To read a book written in the uncritical heyday of postwar American optimism and to find in it laments that the old world was slipping away, a victim of commerce and centralized policymaking, is a poignant experience indeed. This book is an education like few others.
