A few days ago, I wrote a Goodreads review of Shibby Magee by Carrie Kabak, a novel about a woman chef’s journey through trauma, abandonment, and chaos, all the way to self-discovery and liberation.
The life of chef Isabel “Shibby” Magee’s unravels in both rural and urban Ireland, her existence filled with questionable choices and speckled with colorful, sympathetic, and sometimes smothering and violent characters. The plot is curiously dark, tender, surprising, and a little wacky.
I enjoyed the way the story unfolded, but the fragrance writer and foodie in me was especially enticed by the mentions and descriptions of scent and food throughout.
Carrie Kebak’s descriptions of scent vividly transported me to Shibby’s world, and I enjoyed it all: the intoxicating scent of Shibby’s love interest “he smelled of leather and wool. Along with earthy undertones of onions, garlic, fennel, sage—”; the smell of the outdoors and wildlife, both good and bad: “the air was filled with the scent of woodbine. Smelling of honey and cloves, it wove through the hedges either side of the road”; “the earthy, iodine-rich reek of seaweed”; “the stink of Melva’s dung and the hen’s doo-doo”.
What sealed the deal for me, however, was how Carrie portrayed the scent of baked goods, creating vivid impressions and waking my appetite: “Through it wafted the rich, malty smell of freshly baked bread”; “the scent turned sweet with the aroma of fermented yeast, and spices, and burst raisins”; “A heady smell of yeast now mingling with the scent of spices, sweet jam, candied fruit, and raisins”.
As I read the novel, I kept wondering what fragrance I could pair to match the atmospheres, moods, and sensory experiences in Shibby’s life. My mind was finally set on Brioche, a fragrance by Anatole Lebreton, an indie brand that carries the name of its founder and perfumer.
The name Brioche may be confusing for those who sniff it for the first time. The fragrance doesn’t smell like an actual brioche (the French pastry known for its airy texture) but invokes the setting and collective smells of a country kitchen after baking a brioche or similar baked good: the window is open and there are scattered ingredients that create a cozy lived-in mess. I think of Shibby sipping a freshly steeped chamomile tea, as she relaxes after cooking and baking all day. The scent of honey, wheat, and flour mingles with traces of butter on a thick cutting board. This isn’t a brioche that came straight out of the oven, but more of a ghosting of its making—the smell of hay, wood, and other outdoor scents wafting in through the window of Shibby’s native village cottage.
The depictions of rich food and cooking throughout the novel offer additional glimpses into Shibby’s culinary world, making me even hungrier: “Over sizzling melts of lard, I laid rashers, black pudding, pork sausages, and cold sliced potatoes in the frying pans”.
The chef’s menu featuring gourmet Irish dishes at the end of the book was the final touch I needed and left me wanting even more!
A copy of Shibby Magee was graciously sent to me by author Carrie Kabak. The bottle of Brioche by Anatole Lebreton was purchased by me.
