Hot but not dry

Heat
by Bill Buford

I can testify to the good writing and awesome storytelling in this book. It kept me listening even after I realized that I wasn't interested in the subject matter at all.  The very first part--learning to be a line cook at a 3-star New York restaurant--was okay.  When he finally got out of 'prepping' (man! this guy can make chopping carrots sound interesting!) and went to the grill, it was near fascinating.   What those people go through to turn out a perfect lamb chop--amazing!  and then they do it again.  And again.  All night long.

Later in the book he learned to make pasta and went on an expedition of research to answer the question on all our minds--who first put the egg into pasta?  Even that was interesting.  What lost me was a supremely long depiction of a chef who was an overgrown, egotistical baby at best or a borderline psychotic at best.   Where does all the ego in cooking come from?  Is it necessary in order to sustain the pace?  Or does it grow with time, fertilized by praise and newspaper critics and fine balsamic vinegar?

Bored as I was, I have to applaud the author. He stuck to the nutcases just as he stuck to the jobs of deboning chicken thighs, and we were treated to every hideously tedious detail.

I enjoyed the pasta-making although I still fail to see the magic.  As he implies, cooks were probably just dealing with supreme bordom when they learned to create campanelli (bells), farfelli (butterflies), or orechietti (little ears).  My ancestors created the bear paw quilt design; Italians created macaroni shapes.

The section on learning to butcher really lost me.  I couldn't get the point at all, but I had to admire his persistence--if you're going to learn and practice a craft, learn from the best and practice it well. Just because I, personally, rank the art of butchery right up there with that of designing product labels to make pop-tarts look like breakfast foods, doesn't mean there's not an art and a skill in turning an animal into pan-sized pieces.

And there you have my testament to this book and this incredibly dedicated researcher--I didn't quit reading; I didn't skip to the end; I didn't even jump ahead.  I savored every bite. If he goes on to France, the next logical step in the evolution of Italian cooking, I might just follow.