robert brown

People have been putting forth definitions, or parameters, of literature for centuries, so don't put the burden on my shoulders. It may be good literature or not-so-good literature, but "The Seasoning of a Chef" is an example of literature. I just returned from the Barnes & Noble with a copy of the book in the hopes that I and others can turn the discussion away from slashing and burning and into one about the overall merits and/or shortcomings of the work. That the publisher of the book chose to make available excerpts on-line instead of in a magazine hardly obligates Douglas to answer questions here, let alone reveal his motives. We had a discussion about this sort of matter during the rough and tumble days of eGullet in which I presented a quote from Picasso when someone asked him the meaning of "Guernica". His answered was to the effect that the painting is about what you see in it. You're free to believe that Douglas's motive was to malign chefs irrationally and out of jealousy, or present evidence that certain ones aren't what they are cracked up to be or who their PR machinery wants you to believe (and anything in between).

I meant those who lick Thomas Keller's boots, which has nothing to do with being a critic of Douglas. Although I have to count myself, along with just about everyone else, among those who have posted without reading the book, I still haven't put forth an opinion about the book itself. However, from reading the excerpts, the book qualifies as literature and should be judged as such. People like reading exposes and getting the inside scoop. When Douglas dishes it out, some of the very same people who thrive on restaurant or chef gossip raise a ruckus because it puts sacred cows in a candid light. My feelings about Keller or other chefs don't matter. We don't know if Psaltis has an axe to grind with him or Dan Barber, or whomever. In the spirit of the Intentionist Fallacy, it's for each reader to decide, along with other aspects of the book. For Douglas to have to defend himself and answer questions about his intentions or motives defeats the purpose of writing a book. It would have been a lot simpler for him to hire a hall somewhere in order to give a lecture and answer questions, or to write on this site a list of how he feels about this or that or whom. But that isn't literature.

Tess, I used the word “muse”, not “imagination”. I don’t see how I even implied that the book is a work of fiction or should be treated as such except for the fact that writers in both genres shouldn’t be called on to interpret their work or asked to defend it. I am willing to admit that both fiction and alleged non-fiction books can be, and occasionally are, fraudulent because of plagiarism, theft of intellectual property or concepts, and delusional or dysfunctional authors. I’ll repeat that I haven’t read the book yet. But as far as I can tell, Douglas and Michael Psaltis haven’t been accused of any of this. I have the distinct impression that “The Seasoning of a Chef” is a memoir of early-career culinary life. It is unknowable if the difference in talent between Jim Bouton and Whitey Ford is wider than that of Douglas Psaltis and an “A-List” chef. Although Bouton may have seen at the time his best days as a journeyman pitcher, his book “Ball Four” was literate, funny and very insightful about the life of Major League baseball players. (For an even more extreme example of an unknown member of a class of professionals enlightening the reader about his field, think of ex-minor leaguer Pat Jordan’s minor classic “A False Spring”, let alone, in the culinary field, Anthony Bourdain). When I go into the culinary section of a large bookstore, I see literally hundreds of cookbooks by professional chefs less-known than Psaltis. Just because these books aren’t food narratives, the “hoping to become known” factor is no less apparent. Who said that Psaltis was obligated to provide a balanced view of life in the French Laundry kitchen, especially if he had a negative view of it? The man’s entitled to express his feelings. If you want “balanced” along with “fair”, make Fox Cable News your channel of choice. My reason for using the string of adjectives about many of the posts and posters in this thread is that what was intended to start out as a civilized discussion of the book turned into, to a large degree, a defense of Thomas Keller. Keller plays a minor part in the book and he certainly didn’t write it. For two years I handled the slush pile in the Trade Book Division of one of the world’s largest publishers. It was my job to separate the literature from the crap. By reading just a fraction of the number of words that are in the Daily Gullet excerpts of “The Seasoning of a Chef”, I was able to pull out the authors who submitted literature and merited a second reading from those who sent in junk and to whom I sent the rejection form letter.

I haven’t bought the book yet, nor have I furtively read any of it at the Barnes & Noble around the corner. As far as this discussion goes, I don’t think it’s necessary. For better or worse, “The Seasoning of a Chef” is a literary work, a memoir really. That Douglas wrote it in the first person and invested what had to have been a lot of sweat equity doesn’t necessitate an on-line or eGullet inquisition or to have contributors to the thread make these tantalizing, unspecified innuendos. What Psaltis did in the kitchen of the King of CliffNotes Dining, and if he was fired because of it, is a miniscule part of the Psaltis brothers work, and really not of much consequence. This book is about Douglas and his culinary life. Where it springs from is no different than that of any work of art or craft; i.e. the muse. As such it can be subjected to the Intentional ( or Intentionist) Fallacy, which is to say that it is not necessary for Douglas to say anything about his book, let alone defend himself from the Keller Cavalry Brigade. Like any memoir of substance, there will always be detractors, partisans, boot-lickers, and hired guns who will go on the attack with a sense of revisionism and revenge. “The Seasoning of a Chef” can stand by itself simply as literature.

Why not decide when you get there? October is a key period for dining, maybe the best of the year in terms of fish and game. If you see highly-seasonal dishes and/or whole products on the bone that are offered a la carte and not on the tasting menu, you might want to, for example, double-up or order a dish or two made for a minimum of two people.

Did anyone mention Hosteria da Ivan in Fontanella, a few towns from Zibello? We had a memorable visit last summer which I wrote about. Use the search feature and type in "zibello". It's a very gracious and generous down home small restaurant.

For those who don't know, go to this link for weekly truffle reports that I believe to be candid and informative, but only in Italian: http://www.albatartufi.com/

Oakapple, the New York Times roundup went in one ear and out the other, so to speak. But let's wait and see what happens when these retaurants actually do open. How long have we been waiting for the Charlie Trotter in the Time-Warner building? Three years? Four years? God knows I have been on my high horse in the France and Italy forums about the shifting dining paradigm, so I won't go into it here. Is your remark about the NY Times restaurant reviewing positon based on fact, rumor or wishful thinking?

When was the last time you felt that old maxim “The diner is king”? Certainly not at Perry St. where you can feel how that sentiment has faded like a great wine on your palate in a bad year. Now that new New York restaurants have moved down in class from Per Se to what I think will be the most ambitious new restaurant we will visit for some indefinite period of time, it is time to proclaim for now, at least, the end of new high-class dining in New York. My wife said how Perry St. was a variant on Joel Robuchon’s Atelier restaurants, which is a way of saying how that model of restaurant is about to define the most ambitious new dining we will be offered, which, for those of you who know these Ateliers, isn’t saying much about feeling special. At Perry St. the accoutrements are minimal as is the décor, even if Richard Meier cooked them up. The menu is somewhat limited (but believe it or not, no tasting menus !!!!!!!) and as writers have failed to notice, tells you the bare bones about the dishes, making you ask are the fish dishes and any meat and chicken dishes on the bone?; where does the produce come from?; even how are they cooked. Almost no esoteric ingredients either, as if to limit the time the order taker needs to spend with the customers to explain what they are. Our waitress seemed the most interested in getting us to order more San Pellegrino, checking with us every five minutes even when there was lots of it left in our glasses. Finally she backed off when I told her that she was probably pushing me because management told her bottled water had the best percentage mark-up of anything in the restaurant. Also barebones is the wine list that can dispense with the need for a sommelier. At least what is there is fairly priced and, given that you need only a bottle or two, serviceable and not without interest. Also, however, it may be a recognition that the style of the food is often not conducive to serious wine drinking. Additionally, other than a small cup of an ersatz gazpacho that, even though rather sweet, was enjoyable and challenging to my taste buds, and two little pieces of chocolate at the end of the meal, no generosity was in evidence. In fact when a waitress asked us if there was anything she could get us, I said to her “such as?”,she walked away in silent mindlessness after having obviously posed a mindless question. The cooking here is the best aspect of the restaurant. It’s only relative, though. Like French Art Nouveau or Art Deco, it’s the gustatory equivalent of decoration at the surface: textures piled on, pretty presentation at the expense of any rusticity and naturalness; and very little succulence coming from most of the produce itself. Nothing I got to taste stopped my fork between my mouth and the table. My rice cracker crusted tuna fought off the “scallion-studded mayonnaise flavored with dashi, sriracha and various citrus juices” to quote Frank Bruni’s review, half the details of which didn’t come from the menu. (and does anyone know what kind of tuna we’re talking about?). The sauce was nice, the tuna without much flavor, and a battle between the two when I put them on the same fork. I liked the black pepper crab dumplings more than my wife who thought her appetizer of frisee, goat cheese and pickled peach was the best of the three appetizers. The best aspect of the best aspect is a certain respect for the produce. I don’t think there are any special, exclusive or secret sources here, just grabbing from the same larder of lots of other area up-scale restaurants. Yet, my rib lamb chops, if a bit more cooked than I requested (rare/medium-rare), were first rate (and from Colorado as our waitress told me after she ran to the kitchen to find out for me), as was our friend’s boneless rabbit. Too bad the gratuitous, overly hot spiciness made our Nicolas Potel 2001 Volnay Close des Chenes inappropriate with the dish. Only my wife’s lobster failed to enthrall us, due more to its being overcooked and lost in the ginger vinaigrette. We tried one dessert, the highly-touted chocolate pudding. Next to a good, even standard-issue mousse au chocolate, it was closer to the commercial stuff from a box. With a $95.00 bottle of wine (more than what the cuisine justifies, but not wanting to put a damper on the celebration of our friend’s birthday), I’ll be seeing a $340.00 charge for the three of us on the next Amex bill. It’s a lot to pay for a place that, as my wife noticed, is cold and devoid of any joie de vivre. Better get used to it, as they say.

Athinaeos, now you're talking. You can read about my visit to the cheaper Gambero Rosso by going into the Italy forum page and scrolling down to the various "Bob's Italy Trip" reports. My visit to Vissani is on a prior Vissani thread that Francesco started several months ago. If you need help, we're all here. Happy dining.

Not always favorably. I called it the biggest disappointment of my 16-day run around Italy. Though we often think alike, the Sultan of Dining and I feel the same way. If you want to try Gambero Rosso nonetheless, you might eke out a good meal with the gamberi in chickpea sauce and a meat dish. Fulvio does those better than fish, we both believe. Otherwise, my somewhat detailed reports are free for the viewing and encompass to a large degree the territorio you will be visiting.

Thanks, Pedro. You'd think I could remember after my meal at Combarro. What Doc had looks like a relatibve to cagouilles.

John, you could pass as the better-looking younger brother. Here's a case where putting yourself in the hands of the chef is a good idea; so good that I'll have to try it next time I'm there. Thanks for the great report and pictures. Aren't those percebes?

It depends how you go about considering a city for its gastronomy. It's one thing to be in the neighborhod of great material; it's another to have to bust your chops and play hit or miss to get it. I don't think the ratio of fine restaurants to all restaurants in Venice is anywhere near that of, say, San Sebastian. But I will admit that I was in a low season for products from the lagoon and the Adriatico, and if I follow through on my plan to return in two months, I'll get a better idea since that it is the high season. Other than della Marisa and da Fiore, I have heard detractors of every other restaurant. Nonetheless, I will be back at those two and will make up for the reservation I had to cancel at alla Testieri. Then if our respective travel plans works out, you'll be the first to know what happened.

Hathor, I'm happy you had a wonderful stay. That they invited you for a stage is another mainifestation of the love that pervades the house. My wife and I love them too, and thank you for relaying their sentiments. I am curious to know how the rooms are. You are so fortunate to live near by.

John, your post made me recall two points I have been meaning to make. First. in certain situations I do order tasting menus. One would likely be the situation you were in of having a couple of young eaters and another when I am with difficult dining companions who would wear you out trying to place a diverse order. In other situations when I'm with another gourmand couple, it's challenging to give the maitre d'hotel a workout and put together meals that often have a similar variety to tasting menus, but with a la carte ordering (two half portions, etc.) I will even go so far to say that I have ordered tasting menus on those occasions when I sense that I can do no better otherwise. I even described one I had at da Vittorio in Bergamo, a restaurant I trust 100%. Vittorio's daughter endorsed it highly and it turned out to be exceedingly generous and delicious all the way through.

Doc, your posts never put me to sleep. Don't you think it would have been useful at L'Astrance to know in advance what they would serve you? Then you could have asked if there were any differences between the "menu surprise" dishes and the a la carte ones in such aspects as size, cuts, bones, etc. I'm assuming that once one asked, the restaurant would agree to let the cat out of the bag and remove the element of surprise. Did anyone tell you, at least, that your meal would be comprised of a la carte dishes?

Pan, I was assuming that serving many little portions was simple-minded enough that the leading chefs of the day must have considered and dismissed it at some moment. However, I am willing to concede that maybe they didn't because they assumed that serving large portions and all of something was the only way to purvey their cuisine. Of course I am betting on the former. I also believe, however, that almost all change is economy-driven and that the changes we are seeing in cuisine are no exception. The only thing I'm not sure of is (prix-fixe menus excluded) degustation menus could have started out in the 1970s as a heartfelt effort to make available to non-regulars what the chef though were his best dishes. Almost all else that has happened since then is, however, economically-driven and determined.

Bux, I'm not entirely sure where you come down. I approach every restaurant the same way unless the people absolutely refuse to give me any latitude, cut me any slack, however you want to put it. I owe it to myself to do so. Not that I intend to boast, but fairly often my presence of mind has improved the possibilities and the outcomes for my dining companions. If people want to dog it, that's their concern. Laziness often begets laziness. But more important, does anyone know what Robuchon means by "haute cuisine?" Maybe he's talking about it in France, but would anyone say it is dead in Spain, Italy, England and America?

Sometimes it's a matter of "sucking" the best from Mother Nature as much as the chef. I suppose a rough comparison is putting the names in a hat of all the dramas and musicals on Broadway and then spending the money to go to whatever production whose name you pull out of the hat. At a certain price level and infrequent occasion you owe it to yourself to "suck".

Bux, I think what you mean is that you haven't encountered a great restaurant that's transparently mercenary; but that are degrees of mercenariness that don't necessarily ruin the visit. Moby's visit to Michel Bras sounds to me, in the context of knowledge of the way the restaurant used to be, as mercenary, but not necessarily mean-spirited given the national economic framework. (If you want proof positive of a restaurant becoming truly mercenary, talk to someone like me who during the past ten years has been dined at Le Louis XV every year or two). However, unless I have failed in expressing myself, the primary basis of my disdain has more to do with diminishing autonomy and parsimony. Never have I said, or meant to say, that tasting or surprise menus preclude the possibility of having a satisfying meal. Escoffier's prototypical menu at first glance sounds like el Biulli in the 1920s. However, do we know how big the portions were and the way diners went about eating? Were there little portions or full-size portions served generously enough so that you could skip a coourse entirely, take a few mouthfuls, or eat the entire course? I don't see any reference to parts of animals, anything served in pieces, or even portion size. So in the face of a dearth of knowledge, I would be loath to state that todays's tasting or surprise menus bear significant resemblance to the restaurant tables of 75-100 years ago.

Olympe.

My mistake; it was a"tartuffo d'estivo".

Hey, Jonathan, bring it on!!!!! Yes, there is no end to coming up with menus that can pad the margins: summer truffles, all-vegetables, wine pairings, etc. I can't possibly imagine myself in a decent restaurant without asking what's in the larder and not having made a mental list of target products such as something regional, with a short season, or insuring I can try something the place is known for.

The problem is that "the best way to dine" has a habit of disappearing. There is only one way to get the most out of dining these days, which is to choose your restaurants carefully and fight hard to get the most out of them. I like restaurants that give you latitude, which doesn't preclude the possibility of stumbling on a great meal, for example in restaurants as widely divergent as el Bulli and della Marisa where there is essentially no latitude. I find that the more I go to interesting restaurants, the more I am able to suck more (or the most) out of them. These days the challenge is to avoid half or more of your meal ruined by "filler" dishes, which is almost always the problem in a surprise, chef's tasting, or many-course fixed menu. You almost always have to order off the a la carte menu (if there is one) to avoid this. Every restaurant offers a different challenge since they tend to have different configurations. However, I will offer the recent example of my and my wife's lunch at the Fat Duck. Quite simply, we ordered four savory dishes off the a la carte page, but seeing that the tasting menu offered dishes I had read about, but were not available on the other side of the menu, I asked the maitre d'hotel if we could also have three dishes from the tasting menu. In the end Blumenthal agreed after some pushing, with the result that we coaxed so much out of the restaurant that, given its less-than-dynamic repetoire, we don't need to return in a hurry. Regardless, we left feeling we probably got the maximum from our visit.