Sublime

Orwell's Down and Out in Paris and London is invaluable. As is Nicolas Freleng's The Kitchen, David Blum's Flash in the Pan, the Batterberrys' fine account of American restaurant history, On the Town in New York, and Joseph Mitchell's Up in the Old Hotel. Read the old masters: Escoffier, Bocuse et al as well as the Young Turks: Keller, Marco-Pierre

the first story that, as he later put it, “rang his cherries” was Donald Barthelme’s “The Balloon.”

Brunch is punishment block for the 'B'-Team cooks, or where the farm team of recent dishwashers learn their chops.

Looking back, it was something I should not have allowed. I let him haul me over the coals in regard to my effort or performance when he had no basis for doing it. His only basis was that he owned the team, a pretty good basis, but not enough for me to let him excoriate me without significant cause in front of the team even once.

Donald Antrim,

If I had any doubts about Blue Ribbon’s management team in 1976, they were mainly about me. Was I doing right by the Buttfaces, giving them so little guidance? When they did well I’d shrug and deliver my highest praise: Not bad. When they erred I’d yell for a minute or two, then shake it off. None of the Buttfaces felt the least threatened by me—wa

He tucked his napkin under his chin and murmured to the waiter. “Un grand?” said the waiter. “Un grand,” said Régis, and sixty seconds later a large glass pitcher, opaque with cold, was placed in front of us. Régis became professorial; our lesson was about to commence. “In a serious restaurant,” he said, “one can always have confidence in the house

Chilean sea bass? Trendy. Expensive. More than likely frozen.

“I lit into them. ‘You goddamn cowards, afraid to face who you are. Pat, you’re a mooching drunk who screws his own cousin and sponges off everyone. You, Duff, you’re great company, I love you, but let’s face it, you hop beds hoping to find some unidentified something you lost. And you, Harold, you know your trouble? You’re a Guggenheim with no pri