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Title: The Making of a Chef: Mastering Heat at the Culinary Institute of America
Author: Michael Ruhlman
Genre: Memoir/Stunt Journalism
Thingummies: 3
Synopsis: A journalist talks his way into following/becoming part of a class at the Culinary Institute of America.
Thoughts: Fascinating, but uneven. The second half is better structured than the first, which has a lot of trouble deciding how anecdotal it wants to be. Sometimes it tries to tell a story of the two years the author spent at the CIA linearly, sometimes it tries to tell a series of interlocked anecdotes about various instructors and students (not all of which seem particularly relevant), sometimes it tries to give the reader an understanding of the curriculum and knowledge the students study. The author changes his mind every three or four pages as to which he's trying to accomplish, and doesn't switch gears particularly gracefully.
But it's a subject I found really interesting and there's a lot of good information, so I was willing to forgive some. There's a lot of information here about what goes into a lot of those fancy dishes you see on restaurant menus, only some of which I already knew. There's also a lot about the kind of person it takes to become a chef. Ruhlman does commit the cardinal sin of journalism of becoming too close to his subject, but given that it's a puff piece (a gruelingly researched puff piece that involved a lot of sweat, burns, and driving through harrowing conditions to make classes that were never cancelled), that doesn't seem too bad a thing.
The book was written in 1997, which does make it a bit amusing for people who have kept up with culinary fashion. There's a lot about pate en croute, which I'm still not entirely sure as to what it is. (Yes, I know what pate is, but I'm not sure what separates en croute from other forms.) Goat cheese pizza is cutting edge. And panna cotta is briefly referenced as an exoticism no one's ever heard of which must be defined (poorly).
So if you're obsessive about cooking, you may well enjoy this book. If you're not, well, there's not much point. This is for people who want to read several pages on the drama of a consumme raft breaking. (Which I thought was totally dramatic. But then, I spent a couple hours last night making peach pie, so I'm considered somewhat abnormal.)
Author: Michael Ruhlman
Genre: Memoir/Stunt Journalism
Thingummies: 3
Synopsis: A journalist talks his way into following/becoming part of a class at the Culinary Institute of America.
Thoughts: Fascinating, but uneven. The second half is better structured than the first, which has a lot of trouble deciding how anecdotal it wants to be. Sometimes it tries to tell a story of the two years the author spent at the CIA linearly, sometimes it tries to tell a series of interlocked anecdotes about various instructors and students (not all of which seem particularly relevant), sometimes it tries to give the reader an understanding of the curriculum and knowledge the students study. The author changes his mind every three or four pages as to which he's trying to accomplish, and doesn't switch gears particularly gracefully.
But it's a subject I found really interesting and there's a lot of good information, so I was willing to forgive some. There's a lot of information here about what goes into a lot of those fancy dishes you see on restaurant menus, only some of which I already knew. There's also a lot about the kind of person it takes to become a chef. Ruhlman does commit the cardinal sin of journalism of becoming too close to his subject, but given that it's a puff piece (a gruelingly researched puff piece that involved a lot of sweat, burns, and driving through harrowing conditions to make classes that were never cancelled), that doesn't seem too bad a thing.
The book was written in 1997, which does make it a bit amusing for people who have kept up with culinary fashion. There's a lot about pate en croute, which I'm still not entirely sure as to what it is. (Yes, I know what pate is, but I'm not sure what separates en croute from other forms.) Goat cheese pizza is cutting edge. And panna cotta is briefly referenced as an exoticism no one's ever heard of which must be defined (poorly).
So if you're obsessive about cooking, you may well enjoy this book. If you're not, well, there's not much point. This is for people who want to read several pages on the drama of a consumme raft breaking. (Which I thought was totally dramatic. But then, I spent a couple hours last night making peach pie, so I'm considered somewhat abnormal.)
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no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 06:03 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 06:28 pm (UTC)From:I am amused how pie seems to be the most exciting thing I can make you guys. Cupcakes, layer cakes, cookies, nothing gets a more ecstatic reaction than pie.
no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 06:40 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 06:57 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 07:29 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 07:33 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 07:36 pm (UTC)From:I continue to enjoy your in-depth book reviews. Well thought out, entertainingly written, balanced enough to give me a good idea of the pros and cons of the book -- everything I could want in a review. Thanks for writing them!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 07:46 pm (UTC)From:^\ooooo
\____|
Best I could do.
Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 07:37 pm (UTC)From:Hee, and now "mango panna cotta" is a buffet dessert option on cruise ships. It was atrocious, but it was there...
no subject
Date: 2011-02-23 07:48 pm (UTC)From: