One has reason to believe that the chef de cuisine of the
celebrated Brasserie Les Halles in New York would get his food
facts right. In addition, Bourdain has written two culinary
mysteries before his first (and infamous) New Yorker essay
launched this frank confessional about the lives of cooks and
restaurateurs.
The novel is
certainly not for the faint-hearted for the writer doesn’t go
easy on gritty details, is obscenely eloquent, unapologetically
opinionated and an excellent storyteller to boot. He’s not one
making the slightest attempt to make it to the bestsellers
lists. In fact, his opening caveat makes that amply clear:
"There will be horror stories....But I’m simply not going
to deceive anybody about the life as I’ve seen it."
Having survived
this, of course, you will left be with more than a few tales to
remember. The book unravels at tremendous speed and soon falls
into the category of unputdownable. The author’s high-energy
personality becomes obvious as he covers the entire gamut from
chef’s training, personalities, food preparation, cooks’
lifestyles, his own history and the art of running a successful
restaurant.
It reads like a
story straight from the heart, largely because Bourdain just can’t
be concerned with making himself the hero of every story. I
particularly appreciate the author’s candid soul-searching and
admission of not "becoming a world class chef".
The first 253
pages of Kitchen Confidential would certainly make one
pause before ever planning to dine out again. But just when all
those eager beaver food lovers begin thanking their lucky stars
at not having made a foray into the business of food, page 254
happens.
Here he unravels
the other side of the story by describing the kitchen of chef
Scott Bryan at Veritas, an upscale restaurant down the street
from Les Halles. In this the ultimate lessons are revealed, and
what had been till then just an amusing ‘tell all’ book,
turns into a more somber and serious exercise.
While most of us
might be left with insights like never to settle for fish while
dining out on a Monday, the rest of us might just want to choose
our restaurants more carefully.
But simply hearing
what a chef like Bourdain actually does for the food makes this
more than just another worthwhile read.
Not that its all
fun and no work, here’s a serious bit of advice: "Working
clean, constantly wiping and cleaning, is a desirable state of
affairs for the conscientious cook. That chef was right: messy
station equals messy mind. This explains why side-towels are
hoarded like gold by good line cooks."
On why it pays to
look at your waiter’s face: "He knows. It’s another
reason to be polite to your waiter: he could save your life with
a raised eyebrow or a sigh. If he likes you, maybe he’ll stop
you from ordering a piece of fish he knows is going to hurt you.
On the other hand, maybe the chef has ordered him, under the
pain of death, to move that codfish before it begins to really
reek. Observe the body language and take note."
On being careful
when it comes to seafood: "I have had, at a very good Paris
brassiere, the misfortune of eating a single bad mussle, one
treacherous little guy hidden among an otherwise impeccable
group. It slammed me shut like a book, sent me crawling to the
bathroom. I prayed that night. For many hours. And as you might
assume, I’m the worst kind of atheist. Fortunately, the French
have liberal policies on doctor’s house calls and affordable
health care. But I do not care to repeat that experience."
Is the kitchen all
blood and gore? "I’m not even going to talk about blood.
Let’s just say we cut ourselves a lot in the kitchen and leave
it at that."
Well, I’m
definitely going to leave it at that lest I get sued for telling
it all and not getting you to buy the book.
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