Michael Odom > wrote in message >. ..
>
> I really liked Pepin's memoir, too. His generosity and good spirit
> are a far cry from the major league ego in Bourdain's book (which I
> enjoyed as well).

I just checked out Bourdain's novel "Bone in the Throat" from the
library. It was plenty of fun, although there were paragraphs where
the blow-by-blow description of food prep went on too long. The writer
in me thought: how is this furthering the plot??? But then, I spent 3
years working in a culinary school so I know enough about how a
kitchen works that I don't need to read the notes on a chef's morning,
stock to sweets. Really, I did enjoy *some* of the food porn writing,
but it got to be too much after a while.

I actually liked the scenes on New York streets more. I remember that
North LIttle Italy area from the early 90s - where the novel is set -
I used to see John Gotti walking around the neighborhood, grinning at
people who recognized him, and chatting to his buddies. THere was a
groovy new age Learning Annex type place nearby that all of us granola
yoga types attended, and Gotti walked in front of it constantly.
Characters in Bourdain's book do this very walk in the same area (but
none of them mention the New York Open Center - granola yoga girls
don't quite mesh with the tough guys and foodies atmosphere of the
book). The tough guys walk around the neighborhood to avoid the bugs
in their cars and social clubs.

I'm also reading Ismail Merchant's second cookbook, a 10 year old
tome, called Passionate cooking or some such. I'm obsessed with pilafs
for some reason, and have turned to Claudia Roden as well for ideas
about making rice and chicken layered things. A throwback to my
Lebanese childhood - visions of Louis XV dining room suites, cinnamon
scented rice topped with poached chicken and pine nuts, plastic
sheeting over the hand crocheted table cloths for SUnday
dinner...completely different from my Bohemian casual California
lifestyle, low carb, with second hand furniture in the midcentury
modern style, no tablecloths at all due to marauding toddlers, and a
husband who doesn't eat rice. Oh well!