Leslie Brenner

Good question, Jaybee. As important as Alex Lee clearly is in the direction of the kitchen at Daniel, it's impossible to call him the "equal of Daniel" at the restaurant. The two perform very different functions. As I describe in the book, Alex Lee acts as liaison between various staff members--including between front-of-the-house and back-of-the-house, and is a key player in hiring new kitchen staff. But in the way the restaurant is structured, Daniel exercises more overarching leadership qualities; he basically runs the business. Since, as I also describe in the book, he has difficulty sometimes letting go and delegating, it's really his restaurant. As important as he is, Alex Lee is not a partner in the restaurant. I would add that although Alex Lee is brilliant--one of the most brilliant chefs in the country--several officers in the Dinex Group that owns Daniel made me understand that the feeling is that if Alex Lee weren't there, Boulud would be able to install someone else brilliant to run the kitchen. It's hard to say whether that's really possible, but Boulud is such a genius at running restaurants that I tend to believe it.

Thanks for asking, Blue Heron. The rhythm of my work life varies, depending on what kind of work I'm doing, whether it's working on a non-fiction book, a magazine article, or fiction. Sometimes entire days are taken up with research: that happened quite a lot when I was researching The Fourth Star. Often, I'd be on deadline for a magazine piece at the same time, so I might come home after a day at the restaurant, and then spend some hours that night writing the magazine piece. When I'm in the middle of a book, I get into the kind of groove that I like best; that is, I get up in the morning and write until lunch, then continue after lunch. When I lived in New York, I could then take care of some business after that, but now that I'm in California, that has to be done in the morning, because most of my business is still in New York. The main constant is that I do keep regular work hours. Often I lay off when my child gets home from school in the afternoon, but if I'm on deadline, I usually continue at night. I do sometimes find the writing flows much more easily, but for me it's important to sit and do it whether I'm "inspired" or not--I think that's the only way to be a professional writer. Many people get inspired now and again, but the professional has to produce on a regular basis or he/she can't make a serious go of it, let alone a living. I do find that I work better on deadline, even if that deadline is months off. I don't find each book is easier to write than the last; for me, they become harder. I'm always looking for a challenge, and seem to tackle more and more ambitious subjects as time goes on. What does become easier is writing articles--I remember how I used to sweat over the most insignificant 250 word magazine items! Though I would add that in many ways, short pieces are harder to write than longer pieces. Hope that answers your questions! Are you a writer or considering making a go of it as a writer?

Thanks for asking, Kristian. I'm in the process of planning my next non-fiction book now, and can't really say much about it yet. I will say that I wouldn't want to write something too similar to what I've already done; I like doing work that's in some way ground-breaking. At some point in the near future I'll probably be working on a cookbook, too--it's been a long time, and I'm very much in the mood to cook again. I don't expect that to be ground-breaking; I'll just be happy if I can write (or more likely, collaborate) on a good one. In the meantime, as I plan the next one, I'm finishing work on my second novel.

Thanks for your questions, nightscotsman. During the time period covered in The Fourth Star (the year 2000), Thomas Haas was the pastry chef, followed by Alain Poitier. Just before the end of the year, Poitier left, and Johnny Iuzzini, the long-time pastry sous chef, was made pastry chef. Iuzzini left recently (to become pastry chef at Jean Georges), and he has been replaced by Eric Bertoïa, formerly of the Ritz in Paris. During my tenure at Daniel, the pastry chefs did have some autonomy to create dishes, but they did work very closely with Daniel. For instance, when the pastry chef would create a new dessert, he'd bring the finished product to Daniel, who would taste and criticize. Daniel has an amazing palate, and he always knew exactly what a dessert needed. Or at any rate, what he was looking for in it. He's not the kind of chef to say, "Oh, yes, that's perfect as is." He always tinkers, changes, fixes. The dessert style at Daniel definitely runs to the more complex and formal. Take a look at Daniel's website (www.danielnyc.com), click on "Daniel," and you'll find a current summer dessert menu. As for my favorite dessert, it was probably a dark chocolate and passion fruit bombe, which is no longer on the menu. And Johnny Iuzzini's chocolates were absolutely spectacular.

You're absolutely right, Cabrales. The chefs were Dan and Alex Urena at that time.

Thanks, KarenS. I dined a couple of months ago at Masa's (very good). I'm coming up north this week to eat at Fleur de Lys (which reopens Tuesday), Fifth Floor, Elisabeth Daniel, and Campton Place (all in the space of less than 48 hours). Egad! Fat Guy, I did see Joseph Nase at Aqua at the St. Regis--it was a very nice reunion (I knew him in New York). And he's got a terrific sommelier (whose name is slipping my mind); in any case, he used to be at Cello.

Oh, yes! I actually had a wonderful meal at Aqua at the St. Regis Monarch Beach. I haven't been to Napa Rose at Disney--sounds like worth a trip?

I did get wonderful nibbles from time to time, Andy. My mouth waters just thinking about them. My favorite times in the kitchen were when Alex Lee would ask me if I were hungry. Often he would whip up the simplest things, but since he has a magic touch, they would be the most delicious in the world. I remember once he made spaghetti with garlic, olive oil, and chopped anchovies, tossing it with fluffy, gorgeously chopped parsley and grated parmesan, and that was one of the best things I've ever eaten in my life, unlikely as it may sound. When he came back from Piedmont he made an unbelievable fettucine with fontina and shaved white truffles. Why can't I eat that right now? I'm going to think about other wonderful tidbits, and look into my notes so I get them exactly right--so I'll come back and answer further. Usually I had specials, especially in the kitchen. I'll describe some of these, which were usually pretty elaborate, with amazing vegetable garnishes. Often I'd bring them up to Daniel's office--the skybox--so no one would have to witness the looks of rapture on my face as I savored them. As for regular menu items, I was very fond of the beef duo--braised short ribs and filet mignon with celery root puree. More on this later...

I do. And so did many people around Boulud. Bruno Jamais was terrific at certain aspects of his job, and because of this, and also, I think, out of a sense of loyalty, Boulud kept him on longer than many people thought he should have. Finally last year, Boulud decided he had enough of Bruno, and fired him.

I love this question, Yvonne--thanks. It was very much like a huge research project. I gleaned the largest volume of information by standing around, "fly on the wall"-style, and taking notes in shorthand in notebooks. I couldn't use a tape recorder, because usually there were many people talking (or shouting) at once, and there would be no way to distinguish who they were or what they were doing. Shorthand allowed me to get down the dialogue exactly as it was spoken, which was very important to me, but also to jot notes about the food they were preparing, who was speaking, where they were in the kitchen, etc. It was a bit hard to plan out because I had to guess whether the most interesting stuff would be happening in the main kitchen, the prep kitchen, the dining room, reservations room, etc. Often I'd start in the prep kitchen and then move up to the service (main) kitchen as the cooks and chefs went up there before service. Usually I didn't act as a participant, although a number of times I did--pitting 50 pounds of cherries, prepping mushrooms, etc. in order to casually chat with a chef or listen in on kitchen chatter. Usually it was Brad Thompson who wanted to put me to work. I also sat down and formally interviewed many staff members. For more description of this, please see Andy Lynes's "Interviews" question. As for the most awkward moment, I can think of two. The first was when I was observing at the podium, where the host or hostess greet the guests. I've never worked in the front of the house at a restaurant, and when the hostess had stepped away to seat someone, a couple came to the podium. For a horrible moment I thought I'd actually have to help them! Sounds silly, but it's very much like being on stage, and I was much more comfortable blending into the woodwork. In fact I was always more comfortable in the kitchen than in the front of the house. I said "Good evening" in my most soothing voice, petrified, and then the hostess came back just in the nick of time and took over. The other was during a gala dinner celebrating Boulud's twenty years in America. I was helping plate dishes, assembly-line style (which they have to do for banquets), doing easy stuff like placing herb garnishes on the plates, unstacking bowls, etc., when suddenly sous-chef Frederic Cote shoved a squeeze bottle in my hand, and asked me to squeeze an arc of sauce on each plate. Sounds simple, but I didn't have the touch, and Fred showed me four or five times how he wanted it, and each time I'd either squeeze out too big a blob, make too long a line, or some other disastrous thing. He took back the bottle and said, "Never mind."

I agree with you, Felonius, about the degree of consistency at Boulud's three restaurants, and it's no accident: such consistency is of paramount importance to Daniel. It's interesting, too, that you bring up McDonald's: I recounted an episode in my book in which New York Times reporter John Tierney called a handful of French chefs to ask their opinion of McDonald's hamburgers (in response to anti-McDonalds protests in France), and Boulud talked about being impressed with their consistency. The exchange is as follows: "There is no shame in going to McDonalds," Tierney quotes him as saying. "The food is predictable. You go there 20 years later, and it tastes the same." Then why, Tierney wants to know, "are the McDonald’s bashers so popular in France?" "The French are jealous," Boulud concludes. "The hamburger may be the most successful snack in the world. The French wish they could have invented McDonald’s." In answer to your question, first I'd say that the fact that he's so completely involved in the day-to-day running of all three of his restaurants (though perhaps less so, at this point, with Cafe Boulud) has a great deal to do with how they achieve such consistent high quality. When not out of town, Boulud is just about always in one of his restaurants, often in the kitchen. But it also lies in how very driven Boulud is--and his quest for perfection is really the theme of The Fourth Star. For a fuller answer, I can only tell you that it really took me 300+ pages to explain it!

It was not hard to find a publisher for this book--Clarkson Potter had the intelligence, forsight and taste to make an offer right away. If no publisher had shown interest, it would not have been possible for me to continue with the book, since I needed to pay my rent, put food on the table, and buy clothes for my kid. Sad, but true. Interesting point about Kitchen Confidential. Actually, Kitchen Confidential had not yet been published when I sold my book to Clarkson Potter. (Nor had Michael Ruhlman's Soul of a Chef.) If Kitchen Confidential had been published, I believe I would have had a much easier time--a bidding war, perhaps? The deal I made was not huge, sad to say, because, as the publishers said at the time, there hadn't been a bestselling book in the category (narrative nonfiction about food).

Thanks for joining in, Fat Guy! I'm not sure I'd say I'm enjoying the dining scene here, but I'm certainly enjoying the food. Living near enough to the awe-inspiring Santa Monica Farmers' Market to shop there every week has improved the quality of my life tremendously, so I've been cooking quite a lot. And since it was difficult (or sometimes impossible) for me to find satisfying Mexican, Japanese, Thai, Chinese, and Vietnamese food in New York, I've been grooving on those kind of restaurants out here. I've been somewhat disappointed in the general level of "fine dining" establishments here, both in terms of food and service, with some exceptions. (Josie's, Spago, Joe's, Water Grill, Zax, and Pammello have impressed me, just off the top of my head. I'm sure I'm missing some.) What do you think of the dining scene in L.A.?

I'm glad you asked this, Jason. One of the things that attracted me to writing about Daniel was that at the time I was looking for a restaurant to write about, I felt Boulud was not spread too thin. At that time, in 1999, he only had two restaurants, Daniel and Café Boulud. I think that Café Boulud was and is a real treasure of a restaurant--underrated, in fact. Andrew Carmellini's cooking is spectacular, and Daniel's mark is felt quite strongly on it. I've found the service to be wonderful there, too, although to be fair I have to say I was always known there as the person who was in the process of writing about Daniel. The ambiance there is less formal than Daniel, though it's still "correct"--not exactly casual. I like the room much better now then in its old incarnation as Daniel--I find it much warmer. (For those unfamiliar with the history, Boulud opened his original restaurant Daniel in the E. 76th Street location when he left Le Cirque. He closed that restaurant, reopened it as Café Boulud, and then opened Daniel on E. 65th Street.) Boulud is not the kind of chef who could ever see anything with his name on it as just a "property"--he cares too much about the quality, and also, perhaps to his own detriment somewhat, he has difficulty relinquishing control. So that when he opened DB Bistro Moderne, he was there at the new restaurant constantly, and I understand he still puts in quite a lot of time there. I like DB Bistro Moderne very much, though it's a much different kind of dining experience than either of the other restaurants. The tomato-soup red walls, streamlined banquettes, and lighting add up to a very stylish place, and it's a more high-energy, casual, seen-and-be-seen kind of place than the other two. Since I left New York soon after it opened, I only had dinner there twice--before the official opening--and lunch once, after it had been opened a few weeks. I loved it (who wouldn't love a DB burger?) and look forward to returning soon and trying more dishes.

Great question, Lesley C. As you well know, the question of who one's readers are--even if it's only one imaginary "ideal reader"--is important to every writer. In writing this book, I was hoping to find interested readers not only in people who make food their life, whether they work in the restaurant business, write about food, or are passionate about food, but also anyone who is simply curious about what happens behind the scenes in a restaurant. For instance, many people like to watch behind-the-scenes looks at how special effects are done in movies, even if they're not in the film business or even film buffs. I was hoping to appeal to the kind of reader who is interested in microcosms, in the minutae of a particular world. Although I never thought I was interested in geology, I was fascinated by John McPhee's writing about it. And although I never thought there could ever be enough of interest about the subject of oranges, McPhee, again, made that fascinating. That's the kind of thing I was aspiring to. And since restaurant dining has become so hugely important in our culture, I hoped that there would be a natural gravitation to a book like this. What I didn't expect was that there would be readers who actually have little or no interest in food and fine dining who would be curious enough to read the book--these have been some of my most engaged readers, and those I've found have not been in New York. Each time I publish a book, I hope against hope that there will be even just one critic who really "gets" the book, and this time I've been fortunate in that regard. JoAnn C. Gutin, an anthropologist who reviewed the book for N.Y. Newsday, probably represents my ideal reader better than anyone. She wrote: "Leslie Brenner's absorbing "The Fourth Star"...is about fancy food, sure. But more than that, it's a kind of hymn to teamwork and the pursuit of excellence. The context of the pursuit hardly matters: This book could be about an orchestra or a polar expedition or the Belmont Stakes and the emotions would be the same."

I'm so sorry to hear that Cello is closing--it was indeed a wonderful restaurant. I believe there was probably some buzz in the kitchen when Blue Hill opened (if memory serves, it was during 2000, the year I spent there), but I don't recall any specifics. Sorry I can't be more helpful on this one!

I'm sorry, but I"m afraid I can't answer this one, Cabrales--you'd have to ask the chef himself! If you'd like to, I think you can probably contact him through his website, www.danielnyc.com.

Andy, thank you for your kind words! It's hard to say how many days I spent at the restaurant. Usually I'd go once or twice a week, and I actually visited the restaurant over the course of a year and a half. Before the action of the book starts in January, 2000, I had been visiting the restaurant for some time in order to write my proposal for the book. I did sit down and do quite a few formal interviews--with various cooks and sous-chefs, the sommelier, the CFO, the business consultant, Daniel's wife Micky, the director of operations, restaurant director, bartenders, assistant maitre d's, captains, reservations manager, etc., as well as Daniel Boulud, with whom I sat down a number of times in a formal interview setting.

Yes, Andy, my experiences at Daniel did change the way I look at dining in some ways. Mostly, I'd say that I'm more impressed by meals such as one experiences at Daniel (or other four-star-type establishments). The amount of work and care and attention--and talent--on the part of so many people in order to give people such experiences is truly amazing. But it also gave me a solid idea of what the standards should be for this kind of high-end dining. Interestingly, on a recent trip to France on which I dined at a number of very formal, Michelin-starred restaurants, I felt the French establishments I visited this time paled in comparison to Daniel--both in terms of service and the food itself.

Great question, Cabrales. I did hope that Daniel would receive a fourth star--more because I felt the restaurant deserved it than anything else. But I didn't dare to hope that it would happen during (or even soon after) my tenure there. I really didn't believe that the Times would revisit it before revisiting Le Bernadin, which hadn't been reviewed in years. After spending the whole calendar year 2000 in the restaurant, I was still early in my writing process, transcribing notes, etc. when The Times's William Grimes gave the restaurant the four-star review in March. Therefore, I hadn't really settled yet on exactly what the narrative arc of the book would be, and I certainly hadn't yet come up with the title The Fourth Star. Let's just say that for me, the review--both in its four-star rating and in its timing--was a stroke of amazingly good fortune.

Thanks, jaybee. I did know that Moe passed away a few years ago. I got to know both him and his son Gary after I wrote that piece (they had it beautifully blown up and mounted, and displayed it in the window for years), though I lost touch with them some years ago, after I moved to Brooklyn and the upper West side was too long a haul for brunch. For accuracy's sake, though, the Sturgeon King was actually Moe's father Barney Greengrass, who founded the store in 1908. Though, I don't know--maybe it's like true royalty, and the crown gets passed down to the crown prince--who would have been Moe. If that's true, then Gary is now the Sturgeon King.

For those who haven't read the book, the "skybox" is Daniel Boulud's office, a glassed-in affair with views of the kitchen. The skybox is not open to the public for dining at all, even to VIPs. Occasionally Daniel will invite his very close friends, family, or very occasionally, members of the press to dine up there.

Cabrales, I read and enjoyed "Burgundy Stars." The author, William Echikson, focused much of the book on the overarching financial aspects of the restaurant (which isn't surprising, since he was a contributing correspondent for Fortune magazine when he wrote it). I also found his discussion of the politics of farming (vis a vis Charolais beef, etc.) very interesting. What did you think of it?

There were quite a number of Asian-American cooks at Daniel the year I was there, at all levels of kitchen hierarchy, though it never occurred to me to count them. And I don't remember seeing anyone visiting from Japan in order to train. I was not aware of any particular "issues" that affected Asian-Americans there. As for Alex Lee, I did not learn many specifics about how he developed during his tenure with Daniel Boulud over the years. I did learn about how his background as a Chinese-American influenced his cooking and choice of a career. Eating and cooking with his Chinese grandmother in San Francisco affected him tremendously, particularly attending banquets with her. In terms of the "balance" in the kitchen, the racial mixture among Americans in the kitchen was not particularly balanced. As I mention, there were quite a few Asian-Americans. I only remember one African American cook--Corey, whose story I delved into a bit in the book. I'm racking my brain trying to remember Latino line cooks, and I'm coming up empty, which doesn't necessarily mean they weren't there, but certainly they weren't a strong presence. Latinos tended to have lower positions in the kitchen, such as dishwashers, prep cooks, etc. Lupe, the fantastic Mexican-American butcher, really impressed me with his skills. I don't remember seeing any Native Americans in the kitchen. As for Boulud's discomfort when the balance tipped toward too many Americans in relation to French cooks, I think he would have been equally uncomfortable if there were too many French--he was seeking a real balance. Women tended to be represented more heavily in the pastry department than in the kitchen, where at any given time there might have been two or three women. I'm not sure what you mean by my views on Asian-American women chefs in New York--do you mean in general or particular chefs? I personally wouldn't make any generalizations about chefs of particular racial backgrounds or sexes except for the following (which I'm sure will elicit some outraged responses): women chefs tend to make food that is less flashy visually, and often less tall preparations, than men. That's a rash generalization, and there are certainly plenty of exceptions, but I think it tends to be the case. I admire Patricia Yeo quite a bit, and I haven't yet eaten at Anita Lo's restaurant.

Thanks for the interesting question, Wilfred. I'm going to keep thinking about this, because I imagine more will occur to me, but off the bat I'd first say that I haven't been as inspired by food writers per se as by other writers, some of whom may have written about food in the course of writing about other things. Also, I'd say that I have very different influences in my non-fiction (including food writing) than in my fiction. As a food writer, I've been particularly impressed with John McPhee, especially his books "Oranges" and "Giving Good Weight," though again, McPhee's not particularly a food writer. His combination of great reportage and great writing are unparelleled, to my mind. That influence shows most strongly in "The Fourth Star," in which I was fascinated by the minutae of restaurant life. John and Karen Hess's 1977 book "The Taste of America" inspired me greatly as well, especially when I was writing "American Appetite." I also love M.F.K. Fisher's wonderful essays. I'll probably weigh back again on this question later--thanks again.