The Accidental Wino » Book Reviews

Food & Art: “The Natural Cuisine of Georges Blanc”

Thirsty Reader — Fri, 07 May 2010 03:53:24 +0000

While killing some time between meals the other day, I finally turned up a copy of “The Natural Cuisine of Georges Blanc” at a used bookstore in Berkeley. It was a nice find, and one of the best discoveries that I’ve recently made “in the field” (as opposed to trolling eBay for such an item). Originally published in 1987 — just six years after the eponymous author earned his third Michelin star — “Natural Cuisine” earns its stripes for its lavish photography, with the pictures outnumbering the recipes by almost three to one. Although long out of print, the book remains a prescient example of the cookbook-as-coffee-table-book concept, an approach to food-related publishing that has become increasingly popular over the last 25 years. In the case of Blanc’s “Natural Cuisine,” however, the photography itself is rather straight-forward, although maybe that’s actually for the best: Blanc’s classic geometric designs and vivid color contrasts ensure that his plates will shine on their own artistic merit, no outside assistance necessary. Here’s a taste (photography by Christopher Barker):

Zuchini Flans with Sliced Zucchini and Salmon Cream

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Pineapple with Raspberry and Kiwi Sauces and Pineapple Sorbet

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Sauteed Eggplant and Baked Whiting in a Butter Sauce

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Tomato, Red Pepper and Olive Tart

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Pineapple Fritters with Macerated Kiwi Fruit

Book Review: “Vino Italiano” by Joseph Bastianich & David Lynch

Thirsty Reader — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 17:07:23 +0000

Studying for the Certified Wine Educator (CWE) exam has required me to dust off a few of my old favorites, though unfortunately, I’m talking more about books than bottles these days. Certainly, the one book that really helps to jog my memory about Italian wine is 2005′s “Vino Italiano,” which was authored by Joseph Bastianich and David Lynch. Folks who are Food Network junkies may have already seen Bastianich on his mother’s cooking series, “Lydia’s Italian Kitchen” (Bastianich usually appears at the very end of the program, just in time to taste the food and recommend a wine — not a bad gig). Film buffs, on the other hand, may recognize David Lynch as the auteur filmmaker behind 1986′s “Blue Velvet” and 1976′s “Eraserhead,” though in this case, the Hollywood writer-director is not the same person as the wine author (but really, with Jay McInerney now writing wine for the Wall Street Journal, you do have to ask that question these days).

For anyone who wishes to gain a thorough-yet-manageable knowledge of Italian wine, “Vino Italiano” covers just the right amount of info, with tables and maps for each of Italy’s 20 named regions (though Abruzzo and Molise are grouped together, for convenience). The true strength of the book, however (since there are many books out there than can simply dish the facts), is that each chapter of “Vino Italiano” begins with an interesting cultural angle that helps to fit Italian wine into its unique context (after all, Italians outsip Americans at a pace of more than five to one per capita). But even beyond these refreshing introductions, the book also does an excellent job as it transitions from travel guide to reference guide. For more than 450 pages, the authors deftly navigate the sea of Italian wine, mentioning all of the noteworthy juice, while not dwelling too much upon the obscurities.

Book Review: “A Hedonist in the Cellar” by Jay McInerney

Thirsty Reader — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 09:11:39 +0000

I once had an English professor at UCLA who claimed that the purpose of being an English major was to learn how to write essays about books that you’ve never read. This comment was as cynical as it was correct: I winged way too many midterms on a plot summary and a prayer. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t. Frankly, I was far more interested in devoting my time to the student newspaper, writing stories for a sports section that always garnered top national awards (I was surrounded by super-talented folks, and will only take a minimal share in this credit). I suppose my priorities could have been more academically-oriented, but seeing my byline in print just felt inherently more rewarding than reading the classics. Plus, I never really wanted to memorize Shakespeare, and I still don’t.

Over the last couple years, I’ve done a fair amount of book reviews on this site (and for what it’s worth, I have read every last one of these books). But in homage to the good old days of college life, I’m going to offer my review of “The Hedonist in the Cellar” without actually having read the book. Of course, I would never have included this detail on a college midterm, but I have no issue with divulging that info here. To that end, I should point out that I have read about one-third of the book. When I say that I didn’t read a lot of my textbooks at UCLA, I really meant that I just didn’t finish them. For the most part, I would read enough of the book to develop a sense of the writer’s style, but then my midterms would always arrive sooner than I would’ve liked, and I’d have to resort to CliffsNotes the night before the test.

And so that’s kind of where I am with “The Hedonist in the Cellar,” which I was breezing through fairly quickly until I decided to prepare for my CSW exam last year. As I resolved to begin studying more seriously, I decided to put the book on hold, and it’s been collecting dust on my nightstand ever since. Of course, since Jay McInerney’s book is actually a collection of essays, the text itself doesn’t demand to be read in any particular order, or within any sort of time-frame (what I like to call a good “bathroom reader”). Frankly, I’m fast-tracking this book review because I really wanted to comment on McInerney’s recent appointment as the new Wall Street Journal wine critic. Given the portion of “Hedonist” that I have read, I find this development very interesting and appealing.

To me, the WSJ has always been a unique wine resource, having built much of its reputation under the husband-and-wife duo of Dorothy Gaiter and John Brecher (sidenote: “Open That Bottle Night” is on February 27th this year). The happy couple had penned their column in the Journal since 1998, which takes me back to a time in which I knew very little about wine. I feel that the “can’t-miss” economics of the dot-com boom prompted much of Generation X to begin reading the WSJ, at least occasionally, as “IPO” soon became the acronym on everyone’s lips. Subsequently, I think Gaiter and Brecher exposed many newly affluent Americans to the idea of wine as an approachable luxury, even if their advice may have been grounded in value. For me, the tandem certainly offered a unique voice, and Jay McInerney should as offer something similar.

The essays that I have read in 2006′s “Hedonist” have usually reminded me that McInerney is very much a writer first and a wine critic second. Perhaps his upcoming column in the Journal might take a different tack, but I sure hope not. It’s refreshing to read someone who eschews the 100-point system (I assume) and who approaches his craft with a little more gonzo creativity. McInerny has a great way of putting wine into a vivid context, which is something you almost never see in publications like Wine Spectator. Many of the leading wine magazines — with their alleged blind tasting panels and their ubiquitous point scores — remain somewhat clinical (if not influential) in their approach. Rarely do they pen wine reviews with any sense of character or panache. On the other hand, McInerny wields a style that often reflects elements of P.J O’Rourke and Ernest Hemingway.

Many folks may criticize McInerny for not having enough credentials as wine critic. But I say, so what? With the wide range of wines that “Hedonist” covers, McInerny has certainly invested many years into the subject, and who’s to really say that his opinions and observations are not every bit as valid as Robert Parker’s or Jim Laube’s? With any luck, I see McInerny as someone who has the potential to offer some new perspectives on wine and who will hopefully deliver a little much-needed levity along the way.

Book Review: “The Botanist and the Vintner” by Christy Campbell

Thirsty Reader — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 02:03:27 +0000

Much better than my wishy-washy review, but still...

From time to time, I’ve mentioned a few of the “secret handshakes” that can easily distinguish the wine aficionado from the casual drinker. The term “phylloxera” definitely belongs in this category, since few people would ever encounter this word without reading about the history of wine. On the other hand, phylloxera has had such a profound impact on the modern wine industry that it has also become one of the first terms that people learn when they decide to look beyond the bottle and into a book. In author Christy Campbell’s 2004 text “The Botanist and the Vintner,” the almighty phylloxera (a vine-ravishing aphid, for those not in the know) enjoys the full spotlight.

Frankly, this book is geared towards the nerdiest of the wine nerds, and even then, I somehow hesitate to recommend it. But before I condemn this book completely, I should point out that it was voted “Best Book of the Year” by Wine & Spirits, and it has plenty of accolades from all of the important metropolitan newspapers, along with endorsements from all of the relevant food and wine magazines. It is, in fact, a very well-researched and well-written book. The very notion that Campbell could spin a compelling history about botanists, vintners, and the aphid that almost wiped out the world’s wine industry is admirable, to say the least.

To be perfectly fair, “The Botanist and the Vintner” was much easier for me to finish than, say, “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” by Michael Pollan (finishing the last section of that book became a chore for me). However, my main issue with Campbell’s book is that, while I did learn many of the details regarding phylloxera, I was perhaps hoping for something a little more profound, or maybe a little more eye-opening. As it is, in a year from now, after the actual names of the botanists and the vintners fade from my memory, my knowledge of phylloxera will still be no better than a simple Wikipedia entry. Then again, maybe that’s true with most books, and perhaps this petty cynicism is my own issue. What do you want from me?

“Vinegar” indeed: Broadbent sues Random House

Thirsty Reader — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 08:01:28 +0000

It’s been over a year since I reviewed “The Billionaire’s Vinegar” by Benjamin Wallace, and so when I learned about Michael Broadbent suing Random House for libel this week, I had to revisit my notes on this best-selling book. Although many details of the text remain a bit hazy, I certainly don’t see what the 82-year-old Broadbent stands to gain from this lawsuit, nor do I see how he can possibly win. From what I do recall, “The Billionaire’s Vinegar” seemed extremely well-researched and impeccably thorough. I would certainly recommend the book to anyone who has not yet read it.

Another thing that I remember about “The Billionaire’s Vinegar” is that Broadbent — although not complicit in any crime — definitely emerged as the story’s biggest loser. After all, a small portion of his most esteemed tasting notes had been compromised over the years, since several of these “rare” wines he sampled turned out to have extremely questionable provenance. I am only being honest when I acknowledge that I did feel a bit amused by the whole situation.

For similar reasons, I chuckled when “The Wine Spectator” was exposed for granting one of their “Awards of Excellence” to a non-existent Italian restaurant last year. Then, I felt a twinge of guilt when one of their editors commented on my blog, and it made me rethink my position, at least a little more deeply. Regardless, I believe that “The Wine Spectator” needed to be taken down a couple notches as well. From my perspective, this magazine exerts far too much influence on the wine industry, and having worked at a prominent winery that is at odds with this publication, I happen to believe that industry politics play a larger role than anyone might admit.

To be sure, it will be quite interesting to see what kind of direction wine journalism will take in the future, especially as wine continues to become more and more popular. I would like to think that Michael Broadbent and “The Wine Spectator” represent the old guard, and that new voices (lots of them) will eventually be heard. Time will tell. But in the meantime, although I can admire Broadbent’s fundamental passion for wine, the way I see it, through ego and over-exuberant hubris, he has brought most of this scandal upon himself.

Book Review: “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” by Michael Pollan

Thirsty Reader — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 06:02:20 +0000

In many ways, I feel like “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” is the companion reader to Eric Schlosser’s “Fast Food Nation,” a book that first sent a shockwave throughout the American food industry in 2005, by holding up a mirror to our current eating habits. “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” written by Michael Pollan and published in 2006, raises the stakes by broadening its scope: although Americans can avoid the drive-thru if they so choose, our ability to avoid the litany of industrialized corn byproducts — such as high-fructose corn syrup — presents a far more daunting challenge.

Personally, I don’t have the energy for too much soapboxing within these pages, and besides that, both “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” and “Fast Food Nation” were bestsellers, so the word is already out, at least among the literate. I will point out, however, that both books share a grim undertone — to say the least — harking back to the great tradition of Upton Sinclair’s seminal 1906 meat-packing exposé, “The Jungle.” Unfortunately, the American food industry has developed an entirely new set of problems over the last 100 years.

In terms of sheer readability, I would argue that “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” becomes less of a page-turner as it progresses. The first section, based upon the vicious cycle of corn production, is a must-read for anyone who purports to care about what they eat. For me, this section is easily on par with the great chapter on McDonald’s in “Fast Food Nation” (the clear highlight of that particular text, in my opinion). To be fair, I also enjoyed the lengthy middle section of “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” which highlights the über-sustainable Polyface Farm in Swoope, VA.

By the third and final section, however, “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” had begun to wear me a little thin. Ultimately, I attribute this situation to my own ever-shortening attention span, but since I have heard similar sentiments echoed by other folks, I feel that this criticism is noteworthy, if not petty. Although the third section remains relatively brief, it also remains less engaging than the earlier sections. After all, the message of “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” has already become painfully and depressingly clear by the book’s end: high-fructose corn syrup is basically evil, and the sustainability of “organic” farming has become debatable.

Tasting notes: Grgich, Heitz, Duckhorn

Thirsty Reader — Tue, 26 May 2009 21:10:12 +0000

I realize that Memorial Day is all about remembering those who served our country, but since I also had the day to go wine tasting, I decided it would be somewhat appropriate to visit a few of the pioneering wineries here in the Napa Valley, in order to sample the current releases from such stalwarts as Grgich Hills, Heitz Cellars and Duckhorn Wine Company (I had Chateau Montelena on my itinerary as well, but they were closed for the holiday).

Since I have lived here in the Napa Valley, I have visited each of these three wineries countless times (not counting the year when I actually worked over at Grgich Hills). As far as I’m concerned, all three of these wineries are good, and for anyone who doesn’t have any specific wine-tasting agenda plotted out (like me, on Memorial Day), then these places are some of the best wineries to visit on a drop-in basis.

Rather than provide an exhaustive list of tasting notes for each winery, in the interest of brevity, I’ve simply compiled some highlights from the day. Although I have become familiar with the portfolios from each of these wineries over the years, I was reminded of a few things today that I had forgotten. Here are a few of my observations:

• Grgich Hills: These wines display a great deal of old-world character — perhaps more than I realized as an employee. In truth, the Grgich Hills wines remain different than many of the Napa wines out there. Stylistically, I suspect that the Grgich Hills wines have remained constant, while the Napa Valley in general has adopted a more fruit-forward approach. My epiphany during this tasting was that perhaps Grgich Hills wines are not for beginners.

To wit, I tasted the 2005 Grgich Hills Cabernet Sauvingon yesterday, which was a typical Grgich blend of about 90% Cabernet, with small doses of Merlot, Cabernet Franc and Petit Verdot. The wine displayed a faint serrano pepper aroma, which I’ve often come to associate with Stags Leap District Cabernet (by volume, most of the Grgich Hills Cab is actually sourced from the winery’s Yountville property, which flanks Highway 29). This earthy herbaceous trait may challenge those who prefer a burst of fruit upfront, but may be welcome by those who cut their teeth on Bordeaux.

In tasting the 2004 Grgich Hills Yountville Selection (sourced from two distinct plots of 50-year-old Cabernet vines), I again encountered the same style. To be sure, this wine is a big, dark, brooding beast — intense in its earthiness, but somehow seamless in its complexity. Certainly, both Grgich Hills Cabernets demand a food pairing to really shine, which has become a contrarian approach over the last couple of decades (at least here in the Napa Valley).

• Heitz Cellars: Honestly, I had forgotten how great Heitz is. The value that this winery presents is really rare here in the Napa Valley, and it immediately reminded me of Chappellet (another old winery that has kept its prices low, while quality has remained high). One thing I admire about Heitz is how long they hold their wines in the cellar: the 2004 Heitz Napa Valley Cabernet is their current release, as most other wineries in Napa roll out (or have already rolled out) the 2006 vintage.

I thought that the entire Heitz portfolio was great, and the prices are almost absurdly low: the Zinfandel was only $22 and the Cabernet was only $42. Honestly, any time I can find a great Napa Cabernet for under $60, I’m calling that a bargain these days. But the Heitz Cellars Cabernet — along with the terrific Turnbull Wine Cellars Cabernet ($45) — is among the greatest deals in the Napa Valley.

• Duckhorn Wine Company: In contrast to Heitz, I had forgotten how pricey Duckhorn wines had become. The funny thing about it is, the prices at Duckhorn had taken me by surprise during my last visit as well. I’ll drive up to Duckhorn when the occassion arises because I do enjoy their wines, but then I always get sticker shock when I’m reminded that the Duckhorn Sauvignon Blanc is $27 and the Duckhorn Estate Merlot is $85. In the latter instance, that really is a lot of coin for a Merlot that’s definitely good, but which is not really any better than the bevy of $40 Napa Merlot here in the valley.

Book Review: “Don’t Try This at Home” by Witherspoon and Friedman

Thirsty Reader — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 05:10:15 +0000

For anyone who has ever cooked professionally, “Don’t Try This at Home” may feel a little too familiar at times. Edited by Kimberly Witherspoon and Andrew Friedman, this short story collection is an engaging compendium of classic kitchen war stories, written first-person by an impressive roster of America’s most well-known chefs (along with a handful of famous chefs from across the Atlantic). Anyone who has ever faced a dinner rush with little more than dread and determination can relate to many of these anecdotal tales, and the book draws most of its strength from its humor and honesty.

A trio of themes emerges from the text, these particular scenarios usually being terrific catalysts for culinary disaster: large banquets, opening night, and first jobs. One of my favorite entries (and one that would fall under the “first jobs” rubric) was by Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger, chef-owners of the Border Grill and Cuidad in Los Angeles. Their tale centers upon Hollandaise sauce, which always has the potential to cause consternation, either one way or another. Other tales, meanwhile, arrive completely from left field; Gabrielle Hamilton, chef-owner of Prune in New York, tells a very human story about a blind line cook.

As can be expected, some of the chef-authors are more successful than others in drawing the reader into the chaotic world of professional cooking. Chefs are a creative lot, and I could not help but wonder, as someone who has made a living both writing and cooking, how much editing was really necessary for most of these stories. Not everyone can cook, and not everyone can write, either. However, each one of these stories is well-presented, mostly entertaining, and chock full of worst-case scenarios.

Time in a Bottle: “The California Wine Book” by Bob Thompson and Hugh Johnson (1976)

Thirsty Reader — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 21:52:39 +0000

For a wine geek like me, old and out-dated wine books can sometimes be fascinating time capsules. I was rummaging through a used bookstore in Berkeley the other day, when I uncovered an old copy of “The California Wine Book” by Bob Thompson and Hugh Johnson. Published in 1976, this book has now become irrelevant for the most part, especially in terms of its original purpose, which was to provide a contemporary assessment of California wine. Considering how much the California wine industry has evolved over the last 30 years, the introduction to the book is almost mind-bogglingly quaint, as the authors acknowledge that keeping up with California wine has become increasingly difficult. They point out that, compared to the early 60s, “Now is a more engrossing time. Two dozen Cabermet Sauvignons demand consideration.” Two dozen? For all of California?

Although “The California Wine Book” can no longer offer too much modern insight, the scope of the book is interesting in itself. Today, no single book could ever cover California wine in any meaningful detail, and I doubt that many present-day authors would even attempt to cover the entire Golden State in just one single volume. The explosion of California’s wine industry now demands increased focus and specialization, and there are nearly a dozen California wine regions that warrant an entire book unto themselves. But despite the wine industry’s profound evolution, “The California Wine Book” does provide an interesting snapshot of a very different era. What I find especially fascinating is that the book captures the Napa Valley at a very pivotal moment in its history, just months (or perhaps only weeks) prior to the legendary Judgment of Paris.

For those who might be rusty on their Napa folklore, the famed “Judgment of Paris” established a profound paradigm shift within the Napa Valley, as two Napa wines topped the very best French wines in an international blind tasting competition (an eonological “Miracle on Ice,” to be sure). The two wineries responsible for this historic victory — Stag’s Leap Cellars and Chateau Montelena — are both acknowledged in “The California Wine Book,” although neither winery receives any special recognition (if the authors only knew what revelations were looming on the horizon). In this context, “The California Wine Book” offers a great depiction of the Napa landscape right before the big shift, before the phrase “cult wine” was coined, before winemakers became rock stars, and before Napa Cabernets hit triple (or even double) digit prices.

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The Napa Valley chapter of “The California Wine Book” organizes the wine industry into (a) The Big Seven and (b) all the others. I found this division particularly interesting, since some of those “Big Seven” wineries (Bealieu, Beringer, Christian Brothers, Inglenook, Charles Krug, Louis Martini, and Robert Mondavi) no longer exist. Among those missing today, the authors noted that Christian Brothers — which was pushing 2 million cases of wine annually in 1975 — refused to vintage date any of their bottlings. This practice really struck me as odd, but apparently, the winery (owned by the Catholic Church) had made a devout commitment to offer super-affordable wine. Christian Brothers winemaker, the legendary Brother Timothy, employed very complicated “fractional blending” techniques, much in the way a Port producer would use the “solera” system. The book acknowledges that this unique approach was an anachronism, even in 1976.

Among the Big Seven producers, it’s revealing to note that by 1976, three wineries had already been purchased by large corporations, proving that big business was already sniffing out potential profits in the wine sector. Hublein Corporation, which introduced then-executive Andy Beckstoffer to the Napa Valley, was responsible for the purchase of Inglenook and Bealieu, while Beringer had been sold to Nestlé in 1971. Many other food-and-beverage corporations, including Pilsbury and Coca-Cola, made similar acquisitions in the years following the Judgment of Paris, but with very little success (and some colossal failures). The Napa Valley still features plenty of corporate ownership these days, although alcohol-related entities currently prevail (Fosters Group, Constellation Brands, Diageo, and the rest).

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Of the 30 “other” Napa Valley wineries that “The California Wine Book” mentions, the authors subdivide this list into two further categories: “Small” and “On the Brink.” Some of the “Small” wineries include such stalwarts as Heitz Cellars, Stag’s Leap, Chappellet, Joseph Phelps, Stony Hill, Sterling, Franciscan and Chateau Montelena. Among this group, some of these wineries have remained family-owned over the years, while other wineries have been absorbed by large corporations. Most recently, Stag’s Leap was purchased by Italian-based Antinori in 2007, while Chateau Montelena was almost sold in 2008 (ultimately, the deal with Cos d’Estournel fell through by the year’s end, as the U.S. economy also took a dramatic turn for the worse). These days, Montelena is no longer up for sale, and the estate has now been owned by the Barrett Family since 1972.

Perusing through the entry for Chateau Montelena, I wondered if Mike Grgich would receive a mention as the winemaker, since it was his Chardonnay that prevailed at the Judgement of Paris. The authors of “The California Wine Book” do mention Grgich, and his profile is actually a dominant portion of the Montelena entry. At the time “The California Wine Book” was published, Grgich was still an partner at Chateau Montelena, perhaps just weeks before his relationship with the Barrett Family would ultimately unravel. After putting Montelena on the world stage at the 1976 Paris Tasting, Mike Grgich would soon leave the winery to launch Grgich Hills in 1977 (backed this time by Austin Hills, the heir of Hills Brothers Coffee).

Among the list of “On the Brink” wineries, I was amused to find “Silveroaks Cellars,” which had not yet released a single vintage at the time of publication (Silver Oak did have a wine program dating back to 1973, however, and was it due to make its debut either in late 1976 or early 1977). I also noted an entry for Diamond Creek, another legendary winery in its very infancy. As with Silver Oak, Diamond Creek also launched its campaign with the 1973 vintage, soon to become California’s first recognized cult wine (I believe that Diamond Creek Cab still retails for $175, if you can even find it). Silver Oak, on the other hand, has since emerged as a 100,000-case-per-year juggernaut (you can find this wine anywhere), with its Napa Valley Cabernet fetching $100 per bottle (don’t do it).

Book Review: “The Reach of a Chef” by Michael Ruhlman

Thirsty Reader — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 18:13:52 +0000

In the interest of full disclosure, I have a unique connection to Michael Ruhlman’s 2006 book, “The Reach of a Chef”: I happen to be the “UCLA graduate who worked in L.A. entertainment and also the dot-com world before it burst” on page 81. Ruhlman had visited my Skills I class for several days in 2004, and although I had read and enjoyed his previous book, 2001′s “The Soul of a Chef,” I chose to remain aloof. I didn’t want to become fodder for any anecdotes, especially as I began my very first kitchen class at the CIA. Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t have been so stand-offish, but it seems to have secured my relative anonymity.

In all fairness, Ruhlman actually uses himself for an anecdote in the very chapter in which I’m mentioned, the aptly titled “Waiting for Bibimbap.” As he was trailing my Skills I class to gather information on Chef Roe, who was teaching his first-ever class at the CIA, Ruhlman had also been spending time in Cuisines of Asia with Chef Pardus (a central figure in Ruhlman’s 1999 book, “The Making of a Chef”). On his last day with Pardus, Ruhlman crashed and burned on the bibimbap station, which is a regular routine at the CIA. As long as there are classes in session, I can guarantee that someone somewhere is going down, and perhaps dragging their entire class down with them.

For the most part, however, Ruhlman’s book shifts its focus away from the CIA campus, and explores the new and ever-changing roles of today’s chef-entrepreneur. Ruhlman follows the great Thomas Keller as he plans to open New York’s Per Se, and he also follows Keller’s former protege, Grant Achatz, as he readies to open Chicago’s Alinea. Ruhlman also devotes sections of his book to Melissa Kelly, chef-owner of Primo in Maine, and he also contributes a portion to Masayoshi Takayama, the legendary sushi chef at Masa in New York City.

“The Reach of a Chef” is insightful in its scope, and it provides a thoughtful account of the American chef’s recent rise in stature. Ruhlman does an excellent job explaining how the Food Network has helped to foster this evolution, along with the recent Las Vegas phenomenon, which has allowed many of Amerca’s most famous chefs to capitalize on their celebrity.