Ellie Mathews must be the only woman in the world to parlay a cup of salsa, eight chicken

thighs and a handful of other modest ingredients . . . into a million-dollar payoff. . . . The

story of how she got there -- and of what she learned along the way -- lends thematic unity

to "The Ungarnished Truth," . . . [a] memoir of food, family and the quest for victory.

Competitiveness and neighborliness, normally at odds, converge neatly in a lot of traditional

American activities, not least cooking contests. . . . On a national scale, no contest captures

the convergence better than the Pillsbury Bake-Off, since 1949 an event that attracts

thousands of ordinary Americans with a knack for home cooking. "I meet people all the

time," Ms. Mathews recounts, "who say, 'Gee. I didn't know real people ever won those

things.' I'm here to tell you we do." A talented cook, Ms. Mathews is also a talented writer

with a gimlet eye for the absurdities of instant fame. . . . Tarnished glitter aside, Ms

Mathews's story is upbeat -- a blend of pluck, self-deprecating humor, talent and

culinary imagination.

How a few pounds of chicken and a jar of Old El Paso salsa changed one family's life. . . .

Mathews and husband Carl work together, travel together and, most importantly, eat

together. . . . One competition led to another. . . . Thanks to this small, unprepossessing

book, her 15 minutes of fame isn't up quite yet. Enthusiastic and sharp but grounded in

reality . . . Mathews is sweet and self-deprecating--at one point, she notes, "When I

present something I've cooked, I tend to apologize"--but her demeanor masks true

seriousness of purpose. . . . those looking for a nice little story about how eight chicken

thighs can earn you seven figures, look no further.