It’s not going to be a blockbuster. It’s not going to get great reviews, but don’t listen to the critics. If you love food or love to cook, you will enjoy “No Reservations,” the newest foodie flick that opened Friday.
Yes, it’s a predictable chick flick, a love story about two chefs. But what I love about the film is the way it shows how to cultivate tastebuds in a child who has none. Every parent who wants their child to know and love good food should see this movie.

The child is played by Abigail Breslin, the same adorable kid who starred in “Little Miss Sunshine,” and she does a fantastic job. She is transformed from a fish stick-eating non-talker into a young chef, able to flip pancakes without a spatula. How? By inviting her to the market to see where the food comes from, then into the restaurant kitchen where she gets to see, smell, and taste for herself.

OK, so maybe you don’t have kids at that teachable age. No problem. The movie is also a hilarious character study of a quirky top chef, played by Catherine Zeta-Jones, who is so intent on perfection that she basically has no life. I personally took great delight in her temper tantrums, especially when she delivers to a complaining diner exactly what he asks for _ a rare steak.

Those who don’t have latent anger issues may be more impressed by the passion Zeta-Jones demonstrates in the kitchen; tasting saffron sauce, searing steaks, braising game hens, plating lobster and arguing about flavors. Her passion is not only believable, it explains why food has become such a magnetic topic.

Both Zeta-Jones and co-star Aaron Eckhart put in great performances, basically making an OK script fun and enjoyable to watch. _ Jolene Thym

Today I opened my fourth invitation to a lovely affair, the opening of a restaurant called Desert Orchid. It’s inside a casino I’ve never heard of, but after the second invitation arrived, I started thinking maybe I should attend.

The gorgeous golden-colored invitation tells me to be there at 8 p.m. on Saturday. It promises a fabulous time. But nowhere on the first, second, third or fourth invitation does it mention where this casino might be found. I don’t need a map or directions, but without even a city, I am afraid I will have to decline all invitations to said party. _ Jolene Thym

I don’t know much about the wine business, and even less about the famous Mondavi family written about in “House of Mondavi,” by Julia Flynn Siler (Gotham, $28), which may be the reason why I was so fascinated by this book.

First, it reads much like a novel, with fun details about who said what and how they were dressed, offering lots of mind-pictures about what it was like to grow up in the Mondavi family.

I loved reading about the company parties and family squabbles over who paid rent and who did not. But what really grabbed my attention was the poignancy of the Mondavi story, a story about family and expectations, and about what parents do to their children, often unwittingly.

First, let me share that a few weeks ago I made an error in my wine column. I mistakenly referred to Rob Mondavi, grandson of Robert Mondavi, as Robert. I might have laughed at the request for a correction, but after reading “House of Mondavi,” I didn’t laugh. I understood.

The reality is that the Mondavis, for all of their wine expertise, money, fame and power, are no less human than the rest of us. Past generations of this beloved Napa Valley family had issues that, sadly, resulted in losing control of their company.

For those who don’t plan to read the book, here’s the short version:
Cesare and Rosa Mondavi moved from Minnesota to Lodi to grow grapes and make wine. The couple had two daughters and two sons, Robert and Peter. One son, Peter, was an extraordinary winemaker. The other son, Robert, was an ambitious marketing genius.

Cesare favored one son over the other, creating tension that eventually led to outright fisticuffs between the two. All the money and fame the two went on to achieve could not erase those feelings. The two parted ways. Peter Mondavi took over the family’s Charles Krug winery. Robert Mondavi built his own wine empire.

Mondavi’s favored son Robert had two sons of his own, Michael and Timothy, whom he also treated unequally. The sons were therefore at odds, hurt that their father appeared to love and respect one more than the other. Battles ensued.

Mondavi’s son Peter also had two sons, Marc and Peter, and in spite of the fact that he himself had lived in the shadow of his brother, he too treated his sons unequally.

Schisms between family members who were all more or less involved in the family business of making wine eventually led to taking the business public, which in turn led to losing control over the Mondavi wine business entirely.

There are lots of other threads of interest throughout the book, but since I love novels, this tale about fathers and sons was the one that intrigued me most.

Other readers might be more fascinated by the corporate details, including the many difficulties the Mondavis encountered while pioneering the idea of wine partnerships in other wine regions, including France and South America.

I was also shocked to learn that the demise of this company had much to do with the astounding generosity of Robert and Margrit Mondavi, who pledged so much to so many that falling stock prices put even their private homes in jeapordy.

Anyone who has enjoyed a glass of Mondavi, or praised California wines should pick up this book and read. Even those who don’t understand all of the business issues will learn a lot about the genesis of the wine industry here.

The Mondavi family may not approve of the tell-all style of the book, but they can certainly take great pride in the fact that their family - complications and all - still gets credit for making Napa Valley one of the top wine-producing regions in the world. _ Jolene Thym

A lot of books written by food writers are just not that interesting. Some are poorly written. Some are too technical. Some are without substance, like a refrigerator with nothing in it.

That, I have to say, is not the case with “Death By Pad Thai And Other Unforgettable Meals,” (Three Rivers Press, $13.95) a collection of food-centric short stories written by 20 different authors. The book was compiled and edited by Douglad Bauer.

What’s perfect about a book like this is that if you hate the writing style of one author, you still have 19 entirely different, unrelated stories left to read. Even better, you can read them in any order you like. If one doesn’t grab you, another will.

I loved David Lehman’s story about his wife preparing dinner for a special friend, fretting about every detail in the same what that I do when I have people over for a meal. I laughed out loud at Michael Stern’s hilarious recounting of his dinner with Andy Warhol’s friends _ when he took them to a very bad restaurant in a broken-down car, only to be ditched by said guests on the way back home.

I did not like Michelle Wildgen’s “Beach Food” story, a sad tale about having to give up the pleasures of enjoying cocktails and wine with food because her husband was an alcoholic. But it stuck with me.

I have to admit that I actually read the last story in the book first: “Death by Lobster Pad Thai,” a hilarious tale about the physical and emotional difficulties of murdering a massive lobster for a memorable pad thai feast.

If you, like me, have a short attention span and not a lot of time for outside reading, you may want to pick up a copy of this book.

It’s meant to be consumed in bites, and since it’s actually written by 20 different people, its nearly impossible not to find something you like. _ Jolene Thym