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 [... read more ...]

Food writer Stewart Lee Allen offers a unique approach to culinary history with his book “In the Devil’s Garden,” a collection of essays cleverly divided into seven sinful chapters. Allen’s book, which runs the gamut from lust to anger, addresses an impressive array of food-related topics, from the taboos of cannibalism to the near-mythical delicacy of ortolans. For the foodie, “In the Devil’s Garden” presents a thoughtful, if not breezy, compendium. As my friend Samantha commented, it’s a sipper.

If you were a wine drinker 10 years ago, successfully naming five of the red Bordeaux varietals was enough to establish your wine-drinking credibility. Twenty years ago, this may have qualified you as an expert. Of course, back in the heyday of Hearty Burgundy, times were much simpler. These days, as wine has gained popularity in the United States, the stakes have increased dramatically. To a certain extent, the French word terroir seems to have become the American wine drinker’s buzzword of the moment — perhaps the secret handshake for some — as U.S. consumers attempt to [... read more ...]

During my first six weeks of culinary school, I spent many afternoons trolling the campus storeroom, trying to learn the differences between things like ginger and galangal or radicchio and red cabbage. The sheer inventory of the storeroom was impressive: a veritable dungeon, this area was stocked with foodstuffs ranging from the exotic to the mundane, all of which would become the raw food materials for 18 different kitchen-classrooms. As new culinary students, we were expected to visit the storeroom as part of a class called Product Knowledge — the class final would be culled from the [... read more ...]

If I was ever granted the opportunity to teach a food-writing class, I would certainly assign Anthony Bourdain’s “Kitchen Confidential” and Bill Buford’s “Heat” as required texts. These are two books that simply beg to be compared and contrasted. On the surface, both books rely upon engaging narratives, and they both do an outstanding job describing the chaos that can often take place within a professional kitchen. Yet, at the same time, each book offers its own unique perspective of the restaurant industry. At their very core, the two books reveal divergent views regarding professional cooking.

The last book I read before attending chef school was “Kitchen Confidential,” Anthony Bourdain’s quasi-autobiography about (as he puts it) life in the culinary underbelly. To say that this book was inspiring would be an understatement. It was, in fact, a call to arms, a rally cry. Bourdain’s memoir made cooking professionally seem like rock and roll, and in many ways, that’s exactly what it turned out to be: closing down bars, staying up after hours, sleeping all day, battling through a dinner shift. To anyone who has ever asked me why I no longer cook, I [... read more ...]