I’ve had some interesting influences in my life. Two of them were goats. Both were in baseball, but in very different ways.
One was Mickey Owen, the catcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1941
World Series. In Game 4, the New York Yankees were trailing by a run
with two out and nobody on in the ninth inning when Tommy Henrich swung
and missed for strike three. That should have ended the game, but the
ball got away from Mickey, and Henrich wound up on first. The Yankees
rallied to win the game, and went on to win the World Series. Despite
being a four-time All-Star in his 13-year career, Mickey Owen was
always remembered for his dropped third strike and was forever known as
a goat.
A Celebration of Chefs and Others
A Celebration of Chefs
In Traffic with Jacques Pepin
Although my commute is a short one, traffic puts me in a bad mood. I’m impatient and irritated, not qualities that make for a tranquil drive. My commuter’s grumpiness was recently soothed by none other than Jacques Pepin himself, master chef, teacher, and internet star along with the beloved Julia Child and others. He didn’t actually sit next to me flipping crepes in the passenger seat, but he did write the wonderful book The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen
(Houghton Mifflin, 2003), and I borrowed the audio book from the equally wonderful public library.
Pepin does not do the narrating on the audio book himself, and I suspect his accent may have been one of the reasons. The lack of his own voice is perhaps the only issue I have with the audiobook. The narrator speaks with just a smidge of a French accent, so he is easy to understand, but he is not a skilled reader and sometimes lets the natural drama in some of Jacques’s stories fall flat. If you’ve ever seen Jacques Pepin on one of his television cooking shows, you know he has personality, and his energy and humor would have made the audio version of a wonderful read soar. Stories of childhood summers spent on farms during World War II and then years in his mother’s restaurant followed by grueling apprenticeships in classical French restaurants often made me wish my drive home was longer.
Chefs' Second Acts
Spending 14-hour days in command of a restaurant kitchen can take a
toll, both physically and emotionally. So when it’s time to move on,
where do chefs go?
It turns out, not very far. In most cases, successful chefs do not retire in the traditional sense. Instead, they often begin a second act, where they re-invent themselves – in classrooms, lower-key kitchens, or at different kinds of food-industry jobs. Rarely does a dedicated chef completely shut the door on the culinary world.
“There’s definitely an addictive aspect to the restaurant business,” says Richard Hanna, an instructor at Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts in Pasadena.
Hanna, 47, has been an executive chef for restaurants and owns Mission Bistro, a corporate food service company, but a high point of his second act is teaching. He finds students are eager to learn from an experienced chef, and “I’ve been doing this so long I have 3 different ways I can show them” any cooking challenge.
The Bottle Caps of Camelot
In 1944, Ella Mae Morse had a hit single that began:
Milkman, keep those bottles quiet
Can’t use that jive on my milk diet
That was before my time, but in the ’50s and ’60s the milkman came to our house three times a week, leaving bottles of milk on the back stoop and taking away the empties. The glass bottles would clink in the milkman’s wire basket – a gentle sound I took as a music cue to start my homework.
Dinner With Lucullus
M.F.K. Fisher, the
simultaneously subtle and brilliant food writer, devoted a chapter in
her opus Serve It Forth to the importance of dining alone. She loved to
cook and entertain guests which is beautifully rendered in her writing
but she never forgot to make time for herself. Even when dining alone
Fisher would treat her meal with the same delicate touch and refined
style that she lavished on her guests. I totally agree with her notion
that eating alone does not have to be a chore, bore, or quick fix of
crappy food. She attributes this philosophy of eating well, even when
alone, to a Roman noble named Lucullus. Lucullus was a grand gourmet
notorious for the wealth he squandered on his food budget and opulent
feasts.
One day he verbally abused his team of chefs when they served him leftovers, stale bread, and overly watered wine on an off day from his busy social schedule. When his staff stood apologetically before him they pleaded that since he was eating alone they assumed a lavish feast was not a necessity. He rebuked them by saying that when Lucullus dines with Lucullus the food should be at its very best, going above and beyond what they served his guests. Lucullus ate the finest foods and drank his most potent vintages when dining alone, because he was worth it. I agree wholeheartedly that it is warranted to treat yourself now and again to a special meal made especially for you.
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