heat.gif … as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany. Whew. That’s a title, alright. It’s also a very good book in the foodie tradition, which I figured I would wallow in for a few more days after finishing Julia Child.

As with quite a few authors of books I enjoy, Buford makes me green with jealousy–In a good way, I promise. He is a writer and former fiction editor of The New Yorker whose life changed when he did a profile on Mario Batali, the Italian-American chef made famous by the Food Network. (Red hair, baggy patterned pants, kitchen clogs, Iron Chef – You know who I’m talking about.) Always a foodie, Bill decided to go undercover to witness the life of a kitchen first hand at Mario’s famous restuarant Babbo’s, where he is so drawn into the culture of food, the chaos of the kitchen, the satisfaction of working with his hands, etc. that he quits the illustrious day job to persue his newfound addiction, to continue his education in the true nature of food.

Hey Ma! Wanna know what I (via Buford) learned?

  1. That Mario Batali is quite a party animal (drinking a case of wine in an evening, admiting to partaking in the cocaine explosion of the 1980s, cussing like sailor and making racy comments to women the moment the camera is turned).
  2. That you should never order pasta after 10 p.m. (Noodle water is starchy thanks to the pasta, and makes an excellent, flavorful thickener for sauces… and therefore the water doesn’t get changed. Ever. Well, until the next day, after it has acquired a purple hue. Purple?)
  3. That random people often stick their fingers in your food before it arrives at your table, and that you should probably thank them for caring so much.
  4. That eggs in pasta dough and tomatoes in Italian sauce are historical landmarks in the history of… everything, and that they can be tracked down and footnoted if you care enough. Buford does care enough. Be careful. He’ll make you care, too.
  5. That you can buy a whole pig without the USDA getting involved if you buy it while it’s alive.
  6. That everyone should drop everything and learn a dying art, reclaim the disappearing past. (And if not that, at least eat those dying arts.)
  7. That French food is just ripped-off Italian food, brought over the Alps by that loose-lipped Catherine de Medicis.

And after this journey of a thousand miles, Buford taught me – or at least reiterated my own thoughts on the matter – that:

“For millennia, people have known how to make their food. They have understood animals and what to do with them, having cooked with the seasons and had a farmer’s knowledge of the way the planet works. They have preserved traditions of preparing food down through generations, and have come to know them as expressions of their families. People don’t have this kind of knowledge today, even though it seems as fundamental as the earth, and it’s true, those who do have it tend to be professionals–like chefs. But I didn’t want the knowledge in order to be a professional; just to be more human.”

And no, I don’t think that’s a spoiler. I think it’s good incentive to go pick up a copy.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars – A hardcover book club selection