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Pasted

Caprese salad

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

I’m not going to enter the fray and dispute over pasta here in Buenos Aires. For many of us from overseas, pasta here tends to be cooked to a point of limpness that we find too far gone. And, for many from here, what we call al dente they call tan crudo! It’s not an argument worth having and it’s simply a cultural preference and custom.

I will, however, delve into, as I have in a recent column, the world of pasta sauces – it continues on the theme I’ve embarked on recently of pastas, gnocchis, etc. And the sauce of the moment – pesto. Let’s start with what it is, at it’s heart. It’s a pounded paste. In fact, that’s what the word means – paste. Traditionally it’s made in a mortar and pestle, and made with the freshest ingredients possible, and generally at pretty much the ultimate moment to preserve that freshness.

What it isn’t, is a specific set of flavors. There’s certainly the classic pesto Genovese that comes to mind when the word is spoken – basil, garlic, pinenuts, parmesan – but it’s not just a set of flavors. In the last few years I’ve been subjected to versions of this sauce that have ranged from dried out spaghetti with a sprinkling of dried basil flakes, browned bits of over-cooked garlic, and a dusting of pre-processed grated cheese, to an entire soup bowl filled with olive oil and slices of burnt garlic and chopped spinach with some noodles floating in it. They’ve missed the point.

Just as importantly, Genovese is not the only pesto out there. Truly, if you make a paste to toss with your pasta or spoon on your meat or vegetables, you’ve made a pesto. And getting creative is half the fun – just do it with some respect for the basic ingredients. Can you use a food processor or blender instead of a mortar and pestle? Of course, but it won’t be the same texture nor experience. Here is a trio of my favorites:

Pesto Genovese

1 large bunch of fresh basil
50 gm parmesan, just grated
3-4 cloves of garlic
25 gm pinenuts
50 ml good olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Mash together the first four ingredients to form a coarse paste. Add a teaspoon of water if you need to help it mash. Transfer to a bowl and whisk in the olive oil, a little at time, like making a mayonnaise, in fact, that’s more or less the consistency you’re going for. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Toss with linguini or fettucine, or serve over fresh tomatoes and mozzarella for a refreshing take on a Caprese salad.

Walnut Pesto

250 gm walnuts, ground
50 gm toasted pine nuts
2 cloves garlic
2-3 tablespoons of chopped parsley and/or oregano
100 gm ricotta or mascarpone
100 ml olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

In a mortar or small processor, puree the walnuts, pine nuts, garlic and herb(s). Season the mixture with salt and pound or grind to a smooth paste. Transfer to a bowl, add the cheese and 1 tablespoon of water. Whisk until smooth and then whisk in the olive oil to create a creamy sauce. Excellent served warm (but not cooked) over spinach filled pansoti or ravioli.

Green Olive-Almond Pesto

250 gm fileted almonds
125 gm green olive paste
1 tablespoon hot red pepper flakes
60 ml fresh orange or tangerine juice
60 ml good olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Since the olives are already in a paste, this recipe actually works better in a blender or processor. Simply place all the ingredients in and blend until smooth. Season to taste with salt and pepper. This is delicious over lighter grilled meats – chicken, goat, fish.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

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The luck of the gnocchi

Gnocchi with chicken and broccoli

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

Just in time for Gnocchi Day. You do know about El Día de los Ñoquis, don’t you? Surely if you’ve spent time here someone has mentioned that it’s custom to eat these little pillows of potato-y goodness on the 29th of each month. The question is… why? There are several theories.

The most widely accepted one, that most Argentines will tell you, is that, you see, times were tough. And with payday generally being once a month, as the end each approaches the ingredients in the pantry start to run out and there’s no money to buy more. You use the cheapest ingredients – potatoes, flour, eggs – and make your family a big, hearty bowl of gnocchi to dig into and tide you over fora day or two.

Is that the real origin, reaching out to us from the late 1800s? Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s because there have always been patronage jobs, that cadre of folk who get paid by the government but don’t actually work – just show up once a month for a paycheck. They’re called ñoquis too. Some say that a couple of local restaurants around the government offices came up with the “holiday” as a dig.

More cynical folk around claim that one of the big pasta companies here started the tradition as a sales pitch. That one’s not as probable, since back in the 1800s most people probably made their own pastas rather than buying commercial brands. It also doesn’t explain why the custom is widespread in other parts of South America, particularly places with larger Italian populations.

Of course, it could just be because the 29th of each month in the area around Rome is celebrated as San Pantaleon Day and gnocchi are the dish of choice, and has been since long before Argentina was a single nation. It would involve a bit of a reinterpretation, because gnocchi alla romana don’t involve potatoes or rolled pillows of dough, but are generally flat discs of semolina flour, eggs and cheese.

Regardless of the origin, I wanted to prepare you for this month’s Day with my easy way to prepare these little treats, and a simple and healthy alternative to the tomato sauce tinged bechamel that usually is glopped over these. Unless you like that sort of thing.

Gnocchi

1 kg baking potatoes
handful of coarse salt
200 gm flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 egg

Heat your oven to moderate, 180°C. In a baking dish put a layer of coarse salt that just covers the bottom. Set the potatoes on top and stick the pan in the oven and roast them for approximately one hour, until when you stick a knife in it slides in easily. Remove from the oven – we’re going to work with these while they’re hot. Cut the potatoes in half lengthwise and place them, one at a time, cut side down, on a fairly fine sieve and press them through with your hand or a spatula. You should be left with just the skin, which you can toss (or snack on).

Once you have your “riced” potatoes, crack in the egg, the salt, and add the flour. Mix well, it’s best if you do this with your hands as you can feel the mixture. You don’t want to beat this or knead it, just get it all thoroughly mixed together. Break off a handful and roll it on your counter or cutting board into a long rope, about 2 cm in diameter. Using a knife or pastry cutter, cut 1 cm slices on a slight diagonal. Some people like to press the sides with a fork for the distinctive groove pattern – a nice touch if you’re using a sauce because it helps it cling to the gnocchi. I usually just press them in slightly with thumb and forefinger to make a little concave pillow.

You can refrigerate these, lightly covered with a towel, for up to a couple of hours or use them straightaway. When ready to cook them, bring salted water to a boil and then unceremoniously plop the gnocchi in. When they float, they’re ready to remove. Toss with some olive oil and then add your sauce or topping. My pick of the week, chicken breast and broccoli sauteed in olive oil with a little chopped garlic and fresh chilies.

Oh, and don’t forget to stick a one-peso coin under each plate at the table for good luck during the upcoming month! It’s tradition, you know?

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

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Spag bol, no spag

Pici with chicken bolognese

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

Let’s start with the simple part. Spaghetti alla bolognese isn’t an Italian dish. It’s a British dish that’s been imitated in various other parts of the world, kind of like the American dish of spaghetti and meatballs. It isn’t that spaghetti doesn’t exist in Italy, it does. It isn’t that bolognese sauce doesn’t exist in Italy, it does. But the two together, just not happening. You see, spaghetti is a southern pasta, virtually always a dry pasta that’s then boiled up to an al dente texture. And Bologna, the city to which alla bolognese refers, is the capital of Emilia-Romagna, in the north. Keep in mind that Italy didn’t exist as a unified nation until just a century and a half ago.

Let’s stay with the sauce for a moment. Bolognese is a type of ragú (note the reversed accent from the way most people spell it – spell it ragú and it needs to be capitalized as it’s a commercial sauce brand) which more or less means “sauce”, specifically a meat-based sauce. But, it’s a relatively recent term, as, prior to Napoleon’s invasion in 1796, and the introduction and influence of the French term ragoût, which means “to stimulate the appetite”, there are no historical references to the local meat based sauces under that term. What we think of these days as sauces were not served with pasta, rice, or over any other starches, but were offered up as simple stews.

The first recorded instance of combining the two was in the late 1700s, when Alberto Alvisi, chef to the cardinal of Imola, served a local meat stew over maccheroni (which in the vernacular is simply a generic term for pasta, not the little elbows we’re familiar with as macaroni). By the 1830s meat sauces as pasta toppings were becoming all the rage in Emilia-Romagna, and by the late 1800s, with Italy newly unified, the concept spread to other parts of the country.

In Bologna, to make a point, bolognese is simply referred to as ragú, because why refer to it as the sauce made in the style of the Bolognese in its home town. The sauce is classically served with only two pastas, over tagliatelle or layered with lasagna noodles in that classic baked dish. And in both cases, always fresh pasta, never dried. But spaghetti? Dried spaghetti? A southern staple? Not a chance.

Personally, I like bolognese over an even heartier or thicker pasta, something like pici or strozzapreti, the priest stranglers of Tuscany, and that’s the way I tend to serve it. But the sauce is delicious over virtually any decent pasta, even if you resort to espaguettis. To lighten it up a bit I use ground chicken in place of ground beef and pork, at least when I have requests to lighten it up… (if you want to stick with the original, replace the chicken in this recipe with 200 gm each of ground beef and pork, plus 100 gm of chopped bacon).

Bolognese Sauce

1 onion, finely chopped
2 celery ribs, finely chopped
1 carrot, finely chopped
2-3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
500 gm ground chicken
250 gm mushrooms, sliced
100 gm tomato paste
2 crushed fresh tomatoes
100 ml whole milk
100 ml dry white wine
100 ml water
½ teaspoon thyme leaves
¾ teaspoons salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper

Cook onion, celery, carrot, and garlic in oil in a heavy pot over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add ground chicken and cook over moderately high heat, stirring and breaking up lumps, until no longer pink, about 6 minutes, then add the mushrooms and cook another 2-3 minutes. Stir in tomato paste, tomatoes, milk, wine, water, and thyme and gently simmer, covered, until sauce is thickened, roughly an hour. Add salt and pepper to taste and remove from heat. Makes enough for four servings over fresh made pasta.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

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Wheat, not pink, berry

Wheatberry stew

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

The Turkish have their Bugday Çorbasi, the Saudis their Shorobat Il-Jereesh and the Jordanians their Shourbat Freekeh, and the Yemenis, Shorba Burr. From Cyprus, Tarhana; Algeria, Jary; Zanzibar, Shorba; India, Alisa, Poland, Zur, Armenia, Madzoon Abour, and Iran, or Persia, Aash-e Gandom. I could probably keep going, but by the time I was done, I’d have forgotten what I was writing about, and probably put all the celiacs into anaphylactic shock. Because what do these all have in common? They’re wheat based soups. What brought all this on? Monday.

Why Monday? It’s a day in the northwest of Peru, originally from the mountain region, though in modern day centered around the coastal city of Trujillo, when, week in and week out, local cooks prepare a dish called Shambar. It’s a pork and wheat soup, very thick, very hearty, and the reasons behind the Monday only tradition are pretty much lost to time. It’s generally assumed that, being the first day of the work week, it was a way of providing plenty of nutrition to start the week. But that assumes that back in antiquity, in the indigenous cultures, Sunday was somehow a day of rest, if there even was one, as it became after the arrival of the conquistadors. That’s unlikely, unless the day of rest just happened to coincide, and this tradition is reputed to go back well before the Spaniards arrived.

Here in Argentina (though shambar is available at virtually every Peruvian restaurant at Monday lunch), we have the Guiso de Trigo Candeal – no fancy names for us, just tell it like it is, “Durum Wheat Stew”. It’s not one of the more commonly seen one-pot meals, at least not here in Buenos Aires, but it’s a traditional and hearty winter dish from the mountain regions of the country, where it is, I’ve been assured, recommended to be consumed with “a group of brave friends”. I assume that since the only person telling me that is a porteño, that it’s because the stew contains a couple of hot chilies, which require sallying forth valiantly, spoon in hand.

Not surprisingly, as with, it seems most of the stews here, beef and bacon make an appearance. Far be it for me to eschew bacon, the “gateway meat”, and I generally leave it in the dish, it’s a small amount, but if you prefer, leave it out of the following recipe and just add a teaspoonful of liquid smoke, or use smoked salt in place of regular salt, to give that hint of wood smoke. For those of you who don’t cope well with spicy dishes, substitute a red or yellow bell pepper for the chilies.

Wheatberry Stew

250 grams of wheat berries (trigo pelado)
1 large potato, diced (250-300 grams)
100 grams smoked bacon (optional)
1 liter vegetable or chicken stock
2 hot chilies, chopped
3 garlic cloves, minced
3 green onions, chopped
1 red onion, chopped
1 tablespoon smoked paprika
60 ml whiskey
250-300 grams chicken breast, diced
10-12 sprigs of parsley, chopped, stems and all
4-5 sprigs of oregano, leaves stripped off the stems
240 grams canned, peeled plum tomatoes (1 can)
2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Wash the wheat grains well to remove any chaff, and then leave to soak in cold water for 20 minutes. Drain. In a good sized pot, saute the bacon (optional, as noted), onions, garlic, chilies, and paprika in the olive oil until the onions are soft. Add the chicken and cook until lightly browned on the surface. Add the whiskey and deglaze the pan to get up any stuck bits, let the liquid absorb. At this point add the remaining ingredients (wheat, potatoes, herbs, tomatoes, and stock), bring to a boil, reduce the heat to minimum and simmer, covered, until the wheat and potatoes are cooked through, approximately 30 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Note: You can also make this dish with whole, unpeeled wheat grains, just soak them overnight and plan on the cooking time being more like 45 minutes; or, with bulgur wheat, which is a cracked type of wheat and takes less cooking time, 15-20 minutes.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

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A bowl of chic

Hummus soup

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

For years I’ve maintained that Argentine cooking is the only cuisine on the planet to eschew soups. Oh, there are stews, big heaping one pot meals – we’ve tackled locro and lentejas in this column – but an actual soup? Most of my Argentine friends and guests assert that they only ate soup as small children, or these days when they’re ill, in which case they resort to chicken bouillon cubes dissolved in hot water.

There is, of course, the Spanish derived puchero, a big boil-up of beef and vegetables, and traditionally served in two courses – first the solids, then the broth. But those same friends and guests tell me that these days, they generally just toss the broth, eat the meat and perhaps a bit of the veg. After all, they’re not poor anymore, they can afford to eat meat, meat and more meat, the rest of it is unnecessary. Shades of my home country post-WWII.

But are there actually soups in the Argentine culinary canon? The answer is, traditionally, yes. In modern life perhaps not so much, but the recipes are still out there. Among my favorite Argentine cookbooks is one that lists not only a dozen different ways to make puchero, but another dozen plus actual soups, most of them surprisingly vegetable based (though all, of course, managing to throw in some meat in some fashion or another – bacon, chorizo, beef, chicken). Another lists a solid five dozen different soups, albeit a few are clearly just foreign imports included for convenience.

At my table, a recent addition to our repertoire has proven to be a consistent hit, and it came about while playing around with several Greek and Middle Eastern dish ideas. It’s based on our old friend cicero, the chickpea. The sopa de garbanzos, or chickpea soup, uses a beef broth base and simmers them away with a mix of vegetables – potato, tomato, carrots and escarole – plus, not surprisingly, a good amount of bacon.

So when it comes down to it, this recipe, other than including chickpeas and potato, has really nothing to do with the Argentine one, but it’s become such a favorite that I can’t not share it with you all. The spicing on it is reminiscent of hummus, which was the intent from the beginning. (Take out the potato and the water and puree the rest with olive oil and you’ve got a killer hummus.)

Hummus Soup

250 grams dried chickpeas, soaked overnight in water
1 large potato
2 large garlic cloves, chopped
100 ml tahini (sesame paste)
peel of 1 lemon
2 teaspoon smoked pepper (ideally something middle eastern like aleppo or urfa biber, but smoked paprika will work)
1 teaspoon cumin, toasted
salt to taste (1-2 teaspoons)
1½ liters water

About as easy as it can get – put all the ingredients into a soup pot (use 1 teaspoon of salt at the start, you can add more later, you can’t take it out once added), bring to a simmer and cook until the potatoes and chickpeas are soft. Puree in a blender or food processor. Add salt if needed. Serves 4-6 as a first course.

Now, I like to add a little something to the soup for texture, and over time we’ve come up with several different options. You can emphasize the chickpeas by adding fried chickpeas to the pureed soup. A personal favorite is to lightly char cauliflower florets in a pan or under the broiler, lightly coated with olive oil and ground sumac. Diced roasted beets. Toasted almonds slivers. Unsweetened plain yogurt, perhaps flavored with some lemon or orange juice. Chives and/or green onions. Spiced olive oil. If you could add it to hummus, you could add it to this soup!

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

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In the Merry-land of chicken

Chicken Maryland

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

Anyone who spends anytime here discovers quickly that the milanesa, essentially a weiner schnitzel with a touch of Italian heritage, is a staple of both lunch and dinner. There are restaurants devoted just to variations of the dish, from beef to veal to chicken to fish to, now and again, amazingly enough, a vegetable of some sort – soy, squash, eggplant. At its most basic, the clasico, is simply a thin slice of veal or beef that’s been rolled in breadcrumbs and fried until crisp, the center often as tough as shoe leather, and served up on a plate with a wedge or two of lemon.

But there are elaborate versions as well, and one of the ones that caught my eye early on was the suprema maryland – a pounded thin breast of chicken that has likewise been breaded and fried, and served up with some combination of corn and/or peas, cream or bechamel, or not, peppers, ham, bacon, fried egg, and, generally, a fried banana. One has to wonder just where such a concoction came from. There is a history of Chicken Maryland – the two most classic versions are from the state of the same name in the U.S., where it is a dish of fried chicken with a white cream gravy; and, a British version of fried chicken served with a corn fritter and, there, a fried banana.

But there are other versions as well – battered chicken served with ham and hush puppies, the batter generally including sweetcorn mixed in, other versions with fried pineapple rings, and still others with pieces of friend chicken sauteed with sliced bananas. In southeast Asia it’s served with fried tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, and yes, bananas. One thing that all have in common, with the exception of the Argentine version, they are invariably made with chicken thighs and legs.

So what can we do to lighten this dish up and make it a tad healthier? The biggest thing is eliminating all the frying; and the second is taking out the ham or bacon and putting in a lean roast pork loin. I also recommend using panko crumbs rather than regular breadcrumbs – they absorb less oil. And plantains bake up better than bananas. This dish looks potentially complicated, but it’s actually quite easy to put together.

Chicken Maryland

2 chicken breasts, pounded thin and cut in 2-3 cm strips
flour
1 egg
panko crumbs

2 plantains
100 gm melting cheese – mozzarella, danbo, or something similar
1 tablespoon olive oil

100 gm red bell pepper, diced
100 gm corn kernels
100 gm fresh peas
100 gm roasted pork loin, diced
salt, pepper, chili flakes
1 tablespoon olive oil

Turn on your oven to 180°. In a large saute or frying pan warm a tablespoon of oil over low heat. Add the corn, peas, bell pepper and pork. Season lightly with salt, pepper and chili flakes and cook over low heat, stirring occasionally.

While the vegetables are cooking peel the plantains. Oil them with the other tablespoon of olive oil and place on a large baking sheet. Place in the oven and cook for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, dust the chicken strips with salt, pepper and flour. Beat the egg with an equal amount of water. Dip each chicken strip into this and then the panko crumbs (or breadcrumbs). Set aside to dry slightly.

After the 30 minutes, remove the baking sheet. Flip the plantains over onto their other side. Place the chicken strips around the rest of the baking sheet and replace in the oven for 15 minutes. Remove again, slit open the plantains lengthwise, and fill with cheese. Once again into the oven and cook until the cheese is melted and browned (you can use the broiler if you like).

By now the vegetable mixture will be just perfect. Serve all the components together for our updated version of Chicken Maryland.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

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Craig. The Book.

Craig Claiborne biographyAbout a year and a half ago I was contacted by the Tom McNamee, author of the newly released biography of Craig Claiborne. He’d stumbled across a post or two, here and there, from an interview I’d done with Craig many, many moons ago, and wondered if I could answer a few questions. I did, and also, since I still had it, forwarded him the transcript of the interview. And then, I kind of forgot about it until a couple of months ago when he contacted me to tell me the book was coming out soon and thanking me for my contribution. As it happened, a New York based food lovers group was hosting a book launch party on the night that I arrived in town, and he very graciously invited me to it (I doubt he thought I would actually show up given the distance, but as things turned out, I did). And so we met, each got to put a face to the e-mail, and I stayed a short time (I’m never good at cocktail parties – but long enough to say hello to some folk I haven’t seen in forever like Danny Meyer and Colman Andrews), and came away with a signed copy of the book with a very nice thank you in it from Tom. And, I read it.

And, it was a thoroughly enjoyable read. Tom goes back to Craig’s childhood and works his way forward to the end of his life, and he’s quite thorough. He’s also quite entertaining, and not at all shy about bringing in the more salacious elements of his subject’s life. Actually, at times, he seems to dote on those more than other details, but then, I think that was partially his point – there was a lot of sexual innuendo and activity in Craig’s life that is generally glossed over by other writers. On reaching one of the last chapters and finding that much of it is devoted to the transcript I provided, I’m named a couple of times – as a young journalist, which sort of had me sounding like a kid right out of school rather than a 33 year old chef who’d been cooking and writing at that point for about 17 years, and was the food and wine editor for Genre magazine at the time. I was surprised to find in the footnote that the interview was unplanned, and that Craig had picked me up at a bus stop for what he hoped was a casual tryst. Nothing of the sort – it was an arranged interview by a mutual chef friend, Paul Grimes, that was planned out over a series of e-mails. I can’t help but wonder if some of the other more prurient details in the book are speculative on the author’s part…. Several quotes have been rewritten to make them flow more smoothly, since our conversation had been a bit jumbled and punctuated by a bit of cooking and interruptions of phone calls and such, but they’re all in context and accurate as to content.

In the end, a highly recommended book. I doubt that any other has been so well researched, and even if a bit of license is taken here and there, it’s likely in keeping with Craig’s character anyway, even if the details, and particularly his own thoughts, are lost to all time.

[UPDATE: Received later in the day after posting this from Tom: “I just saw your review–thank you for all your kind words. I’m mortified that I got the situation of your interview wrong. At least two of Craig’s friends told me that he had described it that way–but of course I should have asked you. Stupid mistake, and I do apologize.”

No harm done – it just adds some interesting flavor to my life history! It does seem odd that Craig would have described it that way to friends – it was a professional interview from moment one, and part of a planned series of food industry professionals who were out of the closet – and he knew that, it was part of why he agreed to participate in it. Maybe he just wanted to spice up the story a bit – but there’s certainly nothing in the transcripts or on tape that would suggest otherwise.]

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