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Bill Buford's "Heat"


moosnsqrl

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For what it's worth, my responses to the "zucca" biz, etc. have been defenses, not accusations. All posts were written before I was able to check out a copy from the library. Now that I, too, have read the passages you've cited, I see the one source I mentioned (Maestro Martino, though I erred in thinking he was from the Mantuan court; he served the Patriarch of Aquilea) was the one Buford uses himself. For Buford, the point was to trace the tortelli di zucca served to him by Miriam Leonardi and by grandmothers before her to an august, distant past and establish the fundamental importance of tradition in Italian cooking.

I do agree with Russ Parsons, though, that it is regretable that culinary history has not been taken very seriously until recently, with a few major exceptons (e.g. Irish potato famine). It's also exciting that it is starting to elbow its way into the center.

And Megan, you will find an answer to your questions upthread, towards or at the bottom of page 1, right before Shaya uses the information to express happy anticipation of things to come.

Edited by Pontormo (log)

"Viciousness in the kitchen.

The potatoes hiss." --Sylvia Plath

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I finished the book last week and, like most of you, really enjoyed it. However, after having read Heat, as well as Buford's New Yorker pieces, I'm left with one burning question: Why? Perhaps I missed something, but aside from explaining the initial story assignment from the New Yorker and his easy access to Mario, Buford never seems to explore his rationale for entering a professional kitchen, at least not in the gung-ho manner that he did. To my mind, the most interesting quesiton that the book raises is what would make a succesful, and presumably sane, middle-aged man take on this sort of Quixotic challenge. Perhaps this was a case of the journalist seperating himself from his subject, but for Buford to delve so deeply into not just the lives, but the motives of Mario, MPW, Dario, etc, and not explore the drive that led him to make similar choices seemed odd to me. As a food geek, I can certainly empathize with his choices and his seeking out extreme experiences, but I would really have enjoyed a bit of introspection on Buford's part, just to understand what drove him over an edge that, I'm guessing, most people in his position wouldn't have crossed.

All the same, Heat really is a terrific read. I'm already looking forward to his French adventures.

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Jaysus, I just spent five minutes staring at the name "Bill Buford"... I just ordered "Amongst the Thugs" for a World Cup- and "Green Street Hooligans"-watching friend the other week. Damn strange.

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Everyone who's read the book knows this, but for those who are reading this thread trying to decide whether to read the book, or for those who are "halfway through" it bears pointing out that the book is, contrary to some impressions, hardly about Batali at all.  The entire last third of the book (except for the epilogue), nearly a 100 pages, is basically Mario-less, being devoted to Buford's experiences with Dario Cecchini.  While a great deal of the first 2/3rds of the book is about working at Babbo, Mario himself only pops in intermittently.  There are chapters devoted specifically to Mario and his career, but they are digressions similar to the other digressions about this or that that alternate with the Babbo stuff.  The book is really about Buford and his explorations of working at a restaurant on one hand and Italian cuisine, its history and practitioners on the other.

That doesn't make the book any less worth reading though.

I finished the book last week and, like most of you, really enjoyed it. However, after having read Heat, as well as Buford's New Yorker pieces, I'm left with one burning question: Why? Perhaps I missed something, but aside from explaining the initial story assignment from the New Yorker and his easy access to Mario, Buford never seems to explore his rationale for entering a professional kitchen, at least not in the gung-ho manner that he did. To my mind, the most interesting quesiton that the book raises is what would make a succesful, and presumably sane, middle-aged man take on this sort of Quixotic challenge. Perhaps this was a case of the journalist seperating himself from his subject, but for Buford to delve so deeply into not just the lives, but the motives of Mario, MPW, Dario, etc, and not explore the drive that led him to make similar choices seemed odd to me. As a food geek, I can certainly empathize with his choices and his seeking out extreme experiences, but I would really have enjoyed a bit of introspection on Buford's part, just to understand what drove him over an edge that, I'm guessing, most people in his position wouldn't have crossed.

All the same, Heat really is a terrific read. I'm already looking forward to his French adventures.

Method-journalism?

At his book-signing, Buford spoke about the origins of his work. During a staff meeting at The New Yorker, he proposed a profile on Mario Batali. Everyone thought it was a good idea, though who would write it became the question. Buford thought of Jay McInerey--the birthday boy at the dinner party at the beginning of Heat--but ultimately it was decided that he do the piece.

In order to understand his subject, he decided not simply to trail MB, but to go through some of the experiences that made the suburban Seattle native decide to reclaim his grandmother's culinary heritage, go to Italy, and cook himself, at Babbo, with the advantage of getting to know the restaurant that MB built and the impressions he makes on his staff.

Over time, the original motive for the magazine's profile gives way to a narrative that unfounds chronologically as the author's culinary skills develop, he moves from station to station and visits Mario's training grounds in Italy. I have not finished reading the book, so I don't have any final opinions on the matter. However, it is true that this is Celebrity Chef Biography by inspiration and association only; otherwise, it is an account of self-transformation and discovery in which the narrator is the hero of a picaresque tale. The common device of switching from one focus to another in alternating chapters, in this case, BB's story and MB's story, is not maintained. If there's a flaw, it may be due to the way some chapters might have worked better standing on their own as magazine pieces than they do integrated into the book's sequence of chapters. Too early for me to say. The author is entertaining, funny and articulate...easy to read at bestseller pace without the bad prose and stock character types. This is not particularly deep, insightful character analysis of either party involved. The only real fault I find with the publication is a quibble: the cover. The melting letters are cute, but it's rather blank and boring.

"Viciousness in the kitchen.

The potatoes hiss." --Sylvia Plath

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all quibbles aside, i really enjoyed the book. buford is a hell of an observer and he is able to capture his impressions on paper vividly and succinctly. that's no mean trick. but in the end, i agree with eric. i found myself wanting some kind of overarching explanation for why he fell into this obsession with the minutiae of italian cooking. mid-life crisis? pursuit of craftsmanship? what drove him? what did he learn about himself? as it is, we've got a series of extremely entertaining and often revealing segments that stop just short of being a whole.

this is certainly not to say you shouldn't read the book. it's really terrific. it's just that its best parts are so good that you wish they added up to a little more.

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And Megan, you will find an answer to your questions upthread, towards or at the bottom of page 1, right before Shaya uses the information to express happy anticipation of things to come.

Ah, yes. Just finished the book last night... :wink:

"We had dry martinis; great wing-shaped glasses of perfumed fire, tangy as the early morning air." - Elaine Dundy, The Dud Avocado

Queenie Takes Manhattan

eG Foodblogs: 2006 - 2007

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all quibbles aside, i really enjoyed the book. buford is a hell of an observer and he is able to capture his impressions on paper vividly and succinctly. that's no mean trick. but in the end, i agree with eric. i found myself wanting some kind of overarching explanation for why he fell into this obsession with the minutiae of italian cooking. mid-life crisis? pursuit of craftsmanship? what drove him? what did he learn about himself? as it is, we've got a series of extremely entertaining and often revealing segments that stop just short of being a whole.

this is certainly not to say you shouldn't read the book. it's really terrific. it's just that its best parts are so good that you wish they added up to a little more.

Yes, I agree. I'm beginning to think this is why I enjoyed the bits about other people so much more than the bits about Buford...I wasn't really sure what the point was.

"We had dry martinis; great wing-shaped glasses of perfumed fire, tangy as the early morning air." - Elaine Dundy, The Dud Avocado

Queenie Takes Manhattan

eG Foodblogs: 2006 - 2007

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buford is a hell of an observer and he is able to capture his impressions on paper vividly and succinctly. that's no mean trick.

Yes, on this. Descriptions of emulsion while filling orders for pasta especially strong. The act of cooking is rarely presented this well.

Rest? Boh :huh: We'll see...

"Viciousness in the kitchen.

The potatoes hiss." --Sylvia Plath

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Not to get too far off subject, but there's one thing I'm not sure I think got answered in the book. He goes to Italy to learn the art of hand-made pasta. He mentions about Mario's Italian mentors walking out of a restaurant because the pasta was machine-, not hand-made! The author's other teacher laments not being able to find a pastina- a person to make the pasta in the traditional way. And yes, like so many things, it's the ingredients (in this case- finding "real" eggs). However, my question is- has anybody had "handmade" vs. great machine made pasta and found a major difference?

Mark A. Bauman

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i think that probably depends on how often and how long you have been eating fresh pasta. if, like a lot of folks in northern italy, you've been eating fresh pasta twice a day for your entire life (and if you've been paying close attention), i'm sure the differences would be very noticeable, perhaps even horrifying.

i think for most of us, if we were served the two side-by-side, we could probably tell the difference. i think if we were served one pasta blind in a bowl with sauce, that might be more difficult.

edit to explicate: the differences in my experience are an appealing irregularity of surface texture (slightly bumpy), which allows the sauce to stick better, and a slightly more supple interior texture ... it's tender AND springy.

Edited by russ parsons (log)
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I might have asked the question a little differently. I'm sure many of us can tell the difference between dried pasta artisanally made, through bronze dies with textured surfaces over regular industrially made pasta.It's just a matter of buying choices and spending a little more money. I guess you answered the question analagously. Not sure, although I make a lot of fresh pasta, that I'm about ready to trade in the Kitchen-Aid for a mattarello, but who knows?

Mark A. Bauman

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I'm sure many of us can tell the difference between dried pasta artisanally made, through bronze dies with textured surfaces over regular industrially made pasta.It's just a matter of buying choices and spending a little more money.

do you really think so? as someone who has done this for a story, i'll tell you it's not at all that easy, especially when you get into the upper echelon of industrial pastas (dececco, etc). i found it to be a surprisingly subtle thing. i'm not talking about crap industrial vs. latini, but there is some pretty darned good industrial out there. of course, i do love my latini, too, and think it's worth the extra money.

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I certainly agree; I think producers such as DeCecco and DelVerde are great. Still a curiosity factor of the difference between the amount of effort/time between machine made and hand made pasta for the textural/taste differences. Would like to try to make it sometime just for the experience.

Mark A. Bauman

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Not to get too far off subject, but there's one thing I'm not sure I think got answered in the book. He goes to Italy to learn the art of hand-made pasta. He mentions about Mario's Italian mentors walking out of a restaurant because the pasta was machine-, not hand-made! The author's other teacher laments not being able to find a pastina- a person to make the pasta in the traditional way. And yes, like so many things, it's the ingredients (in this case- finding "real" eggs). However, my question is- has anybody had "handmade" vs. great machine made pasta and found a major difference?

I've experimented with both and yes, there's a noticeable textural difference. The rolled enitrely out by hand kind, on a wooden surface with a wooden matarello, creates a rougher texture and it holds on to the sauce better. Perfect for ragu bolognese.

But I only make it a couple times a year; in my experience it adds considerably to the production time, I'm a little too clumsy to do it exactly right or get it thin enough, and you need quite a bit of surface space to roll it out.

It's one of many of the nuances I loved about the book. Honestly, the whole thing is like a dream topic for me: he just hits almost every thing I'd want to cover. I loved the whole bit about the ideal spaghetti with clams and why it's so great ("No one likes it for the little snot of meat in there!") I'm almost wanting to read it again since I blazed so quickly through it the first time.

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:biggrin: FYI - The Crab Cooker in Newport Beach is exactly as you remember it. Still lines, not only on the week-ends, but during the week as well. And first come, first served the order of the day.

I finished reading “Heat” a couple days ago.  I’m still trying to decide what I think about it.  “Heat” is fast, addictive reading – at least for those interested in cooking, restaurant kitchen life, and who know who Mario Batali is.  (Yes folks, there are still people out there who don’t recognize the name.)  It’s certainly well written and I really enjoy the perspective of the journalist in the kitchen of a significant New York restaurant over an extended period of time.  It reminds me a lot of “The Fourth Star” by Leslie Brenner – a chronicle of a journalist who spends a year in the kitchens at Daniel before that notable restaurant received it’s 4 star review from the New York Times.  Reading about what really goes on in these kitchens is fascinating for those of us not in the food industry.

But, something is bothering me and I think it’s Mario Batali.  Not the book, but Mr. Batali himself, or at least the books portrayal of him.  Don’t get me wrong, I think he’s brilliant.  I’d never turn down dinner at any of his restaurants (except Otto – not fond of the pizza there.  I get my fill at Pepe’s, Sally’s and Modern in New Haven on a regular basis.) 

Much of my dismay comes from what’s almost certainly standard practice at the restaurant of celebrity chefs.  If I had to pick a single issue, it would be the whole VIP thing.  There are several passages discussing how Mr. Batali demands his staff wait on, serve and dote over VIP’s before the common folk.  Again, I’m sure that this is as common as dirt but… it bugs me.  I grew up in Southern California.  There’s a legendary dive in Newport Beach called The Crab Cooker.  It’s been there forever, serves food on paper plates with paper table cloths.  A dive.  I haven’t been there in a while but it used to be that, on a Saturday night, lines went out the door and down the block quite a ways.  There’s a story from the early/mid 1970’s about then President Nixon walking up to the front of the line on a busy night and the Host, without ever looking up, saying to him “I don’t know who you are and I don’t care, everybody waits in line.”  Regardless of what you think about Nixon, this is what I like to see in a restaurant.  Any business is good business – one’s celebrity or VIP status doesn’t make their money any more valuable than the rest of us.

I have other peeves, but not really about the book.  That the book made me think about these issues is a testament to how well written and executed it is.  I enjoyed it.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I love audiobook version. Buford narrates. It's an abridged version. There is an unabridged version, but the guy doing that sounds like he's reading from a book. When Buford does it, it's like he's telling the story for the first time, just for you.

You can listen to a sample of him reading here:

http://www.audible.com/adbl/site/products/...UseBVCookie=Yes

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anyone know any of any other books in this vain, other than the bourdain books.

On Amazon.com, Bourdain's review of Heat includes the line, "It's going right in between Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London and Zola's The Belly of Paris on my bookshelf." So those two books. I haven't read the Zola book, but I've read the Orwell one. Only part of the book is about his experience working in a resturant, and his goal was to examine poverity, so his emphasis is different from the Buford book. I don't mean to deter you from reading it; it's something of a classic. It is one of the two books I've ever read that changed my worldview--that changed me. (The other is Loung Ung's First They Killed My Father.)

If you missed Buford's article in the New Yorker, "The Dessert Lab", you can listen to an audio version here:

http://www.audible.com/adbl/site/products/...1&redirectFlag=

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--But, something is bothering me and I think it’s Mario Batali. Not the book, but Mr. Batali himself, or at least the books portrayal of him. --

The part you mentioned also annoyed me, but there's another incident that outright pissed me off..the whole "bumping" incident where Batali dressed down a guy for bumping into him while Mario was working at his station. I've worked in plenty of tight kitchens and you tell someone sorry if you knock into him...I guess if you have to squeeze a huge ego in addition to a fat ass behind a NYC kitchen line, you're gonna get bumped into a lot. The book was a good read, but I could have done with a little less history and a little more kitchen action.

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  • 2 months later...

In the same vein as these fellows, there were a few things that didn't sit well with me as well. The notion that even at the top echelons of celebrity chefdom, one still relys on slaves to make the food. I also haven't had any complaints from my fresh pasta using a little water in place of some egg and durum instead of a.p. flour. Also sopresotta using cooked meat? That doesn't sound like anything I've ever had.

I read this book in a couple days, it's definately a good read. He really got me with the Frankie story. I thought for sure his story would turn out differently.

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With regards to similar books I might suggest some of Michael Rhulman's writings, he is a great writer, and quite a personality as well.

"A man's got to believe in something...I believe I'll have another drink." -W.C. Fields

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--But, something is bothering me and I think it’s Mario Batali.  Not the book, but Mr. Batali himself, or at least the books portrayal of him. --

The part you mentioned also annoyed me, but there's another incident that outright pissed me off..the whole "bumping" incident where Batali dressed down a guy for bumping into him while Mario was working at his station.  I've worked in plenty of tight kitchens and you tell someone sorry if you knock into him...I guess if you have to squeeze a huge ego in addition to a fat ass behind a NYC kitchen line, you're gonna get bumped into a lot.  The book was a good read, but I could have done with a little less history and a little more kitchen action.

That probably is his personality. Hell, try to take something off my station or try to grab something from somewhere near me while I am doing prep and don't ask or mention anything, you bet your *** I will say something about it. Also, what if he had a knife in his hand and was cutting? A lot of times in tight kitchens space is very heavily faught over and gaurded. Although I don't think the spitting on the grill was very professional. Not that I dissagree from a sanitation standpoint, I know it wont cause any harm...it's just... Wrong ;)

Onto the book, I also liked it a lot and could not put it down. I have to go back through and highlight a lot of areas on how certaint dishes were made and different tips, ect. I love books like this because you get a story but they put stuff in it that can teach you in ways cook books can not, with stories. I recommend this book to anyone that cooks as a hobbie and even those who do it for a living.

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  • 4 months later...

I didn't mind that Batali wasn't always in the kitchen. Batali is a bigger than life character, and if he was in the kitchen, the authoer would have been focusing exclusively on Batali. It gave the author a chance to get to know the other chefs in the kitchen, some of whom have since left Babbo to opened up their own restaurants or move on to executive chefs positions at other restaurants. Its funny today that some of the other chefs doubted Andy Nusser's ability to cook since he opened Casa Mono, which Ilan from Top Chef 2 gave a big shout out to by using some many of those dishes. And, there was Tony Liu, who's going to appear on Iron Chef this upcoming season.

I was surprised to hear the author report that many of the old Italian chefs/cooks were surprised (and not all that pleasantly) by Mario's success.  The author compared their reaction to that of the Delta Blues masters who toiled in poverty and relative anonymity long after the young white boys learned/stole their classic licks and made a fortune with them.

I don't know much about the Delta Blues situation, but its not like Batali learned all those old Italian cooks tricks, and then copied them and called it his own. For Batali, what he learned in Italy is a starting point and even he will admit that he's not doing authentic italian dishes. He's putting his own twist and interpretation on it, where he's more concerned about flavor than authenticity.

Much of my dismay comes from what’s almost certainly standard practice at the restaurant of celebrity chefs. If I had to pick a single issue, it would be the whole VIP thing. There are several passages discussing how Mr. Batali demands his staff wait on, serve and dote over VIP’s before the common folk. Again, I’m sure that this is as common as dirt but… it bugs me. ...Any business is good business – one’s celebrity or VIP status doesn’t make their money any more valuable than the rest of us.

I disagree with that. Not every customer is equally valuable to a business. Probably 20% of a business customers account for 80% of that business' profits. As such, businesses are going to focus more of its attention on that 20%. THe goodwill of a restaurant critic or famous celebrity will bring more business than the average Joe.

Edited by leviathan (log)
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