Every once in a while, something comes along that is so unique it could never be restructured to serve any other purpose than the one thing it was intended to do. That's the thing about this book. It doesn't follow a perfect story-line structure, nor should it. Just like cooking, it's arranging chaos into something beautiful all the while embracing the true nature of it. The stories could never be altered to fit any setting other than holiday gatherings with family, cookouts with co-workers, or a campfire and cold beer night with friends. The tales of the ghosts of the author's past could have possibly been altered to fit the book, but we don't really know. There weren't any gatekeepers to the world he grew up in and, as far as that's concerning, it's a good thing. But the recipes are set in stone. Prince tried to change some of them but there were no noticeable improvements, only sideways glances from the people who's palates have been shaped by the original way of cooking them. He just left them alone and shared them with the world.