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Heat-by Bill Buford: A Book Review
My look at a big story in small print. Digesting Bill Buford’s excursion into the heart of professional cooking.
“The following Friday, at seven a.m., I presented myself to the prep chef, a handsome, athletic woman in her forties named Elisa Sarno. I was eager, hopeful, utterly ready. But Elisa didn’t seem all that happy to see me….”
“…. ‘Where did you put your knives? she asked.”
“My knives?”
“You don’t have knives?”
“I’m meant to have knives?’”-Heat-Bill Buford.
That comes from page 15 of the book. I was already a long-time fan of Mario Batali–the chef who’d allowed the author entry into his kitchen at Babbo, “The best Italian restaurant in America.” And now I was hooked on this story.
By methods understood only to Buford, and I suppose his wife, the author left behind a successful career as a writer and editor at The New Yorker to immerse himself in the horror, humility, and abuse of a professional kitchen.
Back when the Food Network still had real chefs with real cooking shows, Batali was one I watched with delight. As a young professional chef, I found Batali simultaneously grotesque and beautiful.
