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Fork It Over: The Intrepid Adventures of a Professional Eater

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By Bill Marsano. Just about every columnist of any kind reaches a point at which he thinks it a fine idea to bundle his columns together and make them into a book. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. A few years ago the novelist Jay MacInerney did that with his wine columns for Vogue magazine and the result was, to my mind, embarrassing. What was on display was, mostly, tedious repetition, little imagination and surprisingly dull writing.

Now Alan Richman, award-winning food writer and restaurant critic for the likes of GQ and Food & Wine, has taken the gamble--but this time the result is a winner.

Richman is a generous and imaginative soul with an easy, flowing style; he is articulate, not glib; he is funny and drily wittyl he is adventurous, with firm but not savage opinions and prejudices. He's old enough to have a wide frame of reference backed by an excellent memory. And he has the rare gift of being able to take a reader along with him. He makes you feel like a confidant.

That makes it unalloyed please to follow his adventures: dining extravagantly for a week with rich wine collectors in France; fumbling his way through two nights as a wine steward at a fancy restaurant; suffering a disatrous dinner with Sharon Stone; driving the coast of North Carolina to gorge himself on his beloved barbecue sandwiches; memorializing that disappearing artifact, the Jewish Waiter. These are but a few of his explorations, and those I haven't mentioned are just as much fun.

His prejudices are pointed, openly admitted and neatly expressed. I'm inclined to agree with many of them, including the vexed question of men dining with women and especially the problem of waiters who won't shut up. Indeed, I recently was a guest at Per Se, a notably expensive new restaurant in New York opened by the star of Napa's French Laundry, and I was astonished by the intrusiveness of the service. There were ten of us at table, all engaged in eager conversation--and constantly being told to hush up by our waiter, who insisted on interrupting at every course to describe at length the very dishes that were so clearly described on the menu. I guess that I, like Richman, am of the old school: I think waiters should wait (for a pause), say "Excuse me"--then put the plate down and scram.

A serious failing of this book is that it's so short--but that suggests rigorous selection. Richman has given us only his best here, so reader discipline is required. Read these pleasures one at a time, now matter how tempted to tear through them one after another, or you'll be at the end of the book in no time. On the other hand, you can always start over again.--Bill Marsano is an award-winning writer on wine, food and travel.

Raconteur Alan Richman, food critic at large for "GQ" magazine, seems to be tapping into his inner David Sedaris in these short accounts of his various experiences with food and dining across the country and around the world. Culled from over a decade of columns in "GQ" and "Bon Appetit", his stories are clever and entertaining, reflecting a wellspring of culinary knowledge and life experiences, which lend a particularly idiosyncratic view to the way he looks at food.

As a fellow "foodie", I can appreciate his curmudgeon view of vegans and their holier-than-thou attitudes toward carnivores. He also includes a vitriolic portrayal of the Hamptons, which he views as a desolate area for quality restaurants where a greater importance is attached to Billy Joel sightings; and an equally acerbic tour of Louis Farrakhan's $5 million Chicago eatery, Salaam, where you can apparently watch pro golf on the TV in the lounge. Other pieces describe a dinner date with Sharon Stone, Richman's elusive fantasy come true; an insistent drive through the Carolinas in search of the perfect barbecue sandwich; the undervalued art of wine spitting; a bemused but ultimately loving view of the archetypal cranky Jewish waiter; and perhaps most amusing, a desperate, Godot-like quest to find a celebrity chef, any celebrity chef, present at his own restaurant. There is even something touching about his recollections of his own tour of duty during the Vietnam War as he sits down for baked squab at a restaurant in Ho Chi Minh City. Sometimes his hardened opinions are at odds with the conversational tone of the book, but his passion for food more than compensates for the acidity. I think the Food Network could use him since no one there (with perhaps the exception of Anthony Bourdain and Alton Brown) shows a fraction of the wit Richman displays here. This is entertaining reading for food aficionados.

I consider Alan Richman the finest food writer out there and this book provides a sampling of the quality writing GQ and Bon Appetit readers have known for years.

The article on dining at the Nation of Islam restaurant in Chicago is reason enough to buy the book. Richman manages to weave religion, racism, and social commentary into an article on a restaurant. Outstanding.

Other outstanding essays in the book revolve around the disappearing Polynesian restaurant, the sad current state of Paul Bocuse in France, and the hilarious "My Beef with Vegans."

Richman breaks up the articles with his "Ten Commandments" for both diners and restaurants, as well as "Ten Reasons White Wine is Better Than Red."

All-in-all a fantastic book by a great writer. Richman has joined Steingarten, Villas, and Claiborne in reaching the mountaintop of fine food writing.

What fun! This hilarious book is filled with
Richman's amusing culinary observations and adventures during his long and impressive career as GQ's food, wine and restaurant critic. It is the perfect winter read and holiday gift. It is witty, engaging and even touching at times. My mother said it was the only thing that made her laugh out loud during her double knee replacement rehab! I am giving this book to all my friends this year.

Where to begin? Alan Richman is to food writing as Bruce Springsteen is to rock and roll, as Bruno Giacosa is to nebbiolo, as Nozawa is to sushi, as, well, you get the point. "Fork It Over", Richman's first collection of stories, largely compiled from his years at "Gentleman's Quarterly", is so compelling, so vibrant, so funny, that it cannot help but leave you wanting more. And oh, is there more. Richman's journey across 55th street in Manhattan shouldn't be missed, reason alone to require a sequel. But getting back to "Fork It Over", this is a food writer at the top of his game. Richman's description of Chez Panisse is spot on, from the trepidation over the Tunisian short ribs to the acknowledgement that the food isn't really much of anything. Richman nails the mediocrity of the much-hyped Hamptons dining scene. He ventures on a journey to find the omnipresent celebrity chef. And so much more. If you've ever read Calvin Trillin or Jeffrey Steingarten and appreciated their work, you must buy "Fork It Over". To paraphrase from the author's description of his visit to Paul Bocuse's cooking school, Alan Richman is truly a "Big Hat" writer - buy this book!

4/4/2005

Fork It Over:
The Intrepid Adventures of a
Professional Eater

By Alan Richman

A review by Marty Martindale

Remember the early days on Food Network when they had a little program featuring a man and a woman, in a restaurant booth, relentlessly discussing plates of food? They were subjective, believing they were objective, bringing off the snob appeal food critics are supposed to exhibit. David Edelstein describes them as the "satiny blonde Nina Griscom and helplessly dweebish Alan Richman." The show was Dining Around, described as being a non-cooking show. It was also a fun show and a hook for me with the Food Channel evermore.

Richman, eleven-time winner of the James Beard Foundation Award, has been the culinary critic for GQ since 1990. Before that he "dabbled in comestibles on the side and under a pseudonym, while writing about sports for the Boston Glove and the Montreal Star." He lives in Mamaroneck, New York and commutes to Manhattan for most meals. He was also recently appointed Dean of Food Journalism of the French culinary Institute in Westchester County, New York.

In the books, he posits Food Commandments, a set for Diners and another for Restaurants. The former includes helpful paragraphs on presenting one's credit after dessert, ignoring the waiter's "favorites," passing on the omelet stations and more. His commandments for Restaurants include never send a patron to the bar, knocking off the fish boat routine and not being asking if everything is "OK?" He also offers his ten reasons "Why White Wine is Better than Red Wine," not the least of which is "Ever notice that winos leave vacant lots strewn with broken bottles red wine?"

Richman is a world-traveled eating man and acknowledges most everyone envies what he does. At the same time, he defends his expertise as a proven eater while possessing no knowledge of cooking. "I believe I know how to eat as well as any man alive," he contends. To expand on this his MO includes behaviors which make him lie, steal, wander and drift usually in silence except for hearty chatter with waiters and busboys.

For an example of his mastery at simplicity, we visit a baked potato eaten with is parents in Chicago at a restaurant named Tad's, near the stockyards. The year was early, the price of his steak dinner was $1.09: "fatty steaks reeking with charred goodness. Baked potatoes as big as footballs ... such tubers were unavailable at the A & P ... the potatoes we eat at home were tiny and immaterial ... but the Tad's spud was buttery and vaguely nutty, a combination I don't recall encountering again, even on one of my trips to Idaho."

The book is a collection of Richman's stories as they appeared in GQ, rife with Alan's "what to look for's." It's a great out-of-context read, a great airport read, any chapter is entertaining. Bring snacks.

Remember: With the word, Montrachet, both the "t's" are silent...

© Marty Martindale, 2005, Largo FL
mm@www.FoodSiteoftheDay.com

I like that Mr. Richman is not a food snob. The best barbecue in America makes as great a meal, in his mind, as a dinner with white Italian truffles--or the black French truffles.

The book, which is a collection of earlier published essays, is mildly entertaining. I liked the essays at the beginning about his parents--particularly, his mother's cooking--best. It bothered me that some of the essays were written long ago and probably out of date and not relevant.

I couldn't help wondering throughout the book if Mr. Richman is obese. I couldn't tell from the book picture and haven't been able to find any other pictures.

There are definitely more entertaining eating experience books out there.

`Fork It Over' by Alan Richman, with his eleven times winning a James Beard Foundation award and his new position as Dean of Culinary Journalism, struck me as a likely addition to the great works of culinary essays from the likes of Jeffrey Steingarten or James Villas, especially as Richman, like Steingarten and Villas, is a culinary columnist at a national magazine. Unfortunately, the subtitle of the volume, `The Intrepid Adventures of a Professional Eater' pretty much tell it all. Richman's book is almost entirely about eating both at home and in restaurants.

Richman is almost proud of the fact that he does not cook and doesn't really know how to cook. This means, among other things, that he does no articles like Steingarten's investigation into the techniques of tender and flaky pie crust or like Villas' surveys of major Southern dishes such as Brunswick stew, cheese straws, or pimento cheese spread. This, in itself, is not enough to consider Richman's essays inferior. Authoritative evaluation of appeals to the senses such as sculpture, song, and spaghetti sauce requires a critical experience of many, many different examples of these products and knowledge of the opinions of many other people who have acquired similar experiences. Mozart's operas are great, far greater than his contemporary Salieri, because thousands of richly experienced ears and minds have heard and thought about these works and have found them great when compared to all other operas. So, while mathematician and musician and chess master all do their best work at an early age because their intellectual engine needs an athlete's stamina, an artist and a philosopher and a critic does their best work later in life because their intellectual mill needs lots of experiences and the time to rank and compare these experiences.

Richman has the years of experience and the years spent thinking about food, although unlike Villas, his professional involvement with food does not go back to his college years. Rather it began about 14 years ago when sportswriter Richman took on a culinary assignment around 1990 and turned this into a full time column for his Montreal paper. Of course, as with every other living breathing person on this planet, he has food experiences and memories that go back to early childhood, where he was blessed with a traditional Jewish mother who was passionate about food and cooking. Unfortunately, unlike Jim Villas' mother, Richman's mother specifically avoided teaching little Alan anything about cooking.

Richman's experience with food and restaurants lead to many acutely perceptive and interesting observations about specific restaurants. I am especially pleased that as a native of Philadelphia, he has much to say about the two ends of Philadelphia's culinary spectrum, cheese steaks and `Le Bec-Fin'. With the reputation of this restaurant's chef, Georges Perrier in Philly, I am always surprised he receives so little attention in the national culinary press that dotes on Charlie Trotter, Eric Ripert, Frank Stitt, Patrick O'Connell, and Rick Tramonto. I am especially interested in his opinions of the very famous international culinary figures such as Paul Bocuse. According to Richman, the Michelin guide seems to be treating the great Bocuse in much the same way the Golf press treats Tiger Woods long after his game has fallen from it's glorious heights. And, as culinary quality is an aesthetic evaluation rather than a numeric golf score, Bocuse has probably been getting away with this for a much longer time. Richman's picture of Bocuse's Lyon restaurant is clearly a portrait of a venue running on its laurels rather than on consistently high quality. The surprise of the piece is that unlike Emeril Lagasse, who probably spends less than a week in any one of his far flung restaurant kitchens, Paul Bocuse was actually present at his restaurant and appeared to be playing the traditional role of expediter now and again in the course of Richman's meal. A similar very interesting observation was when Richman was instructed by a French culinary teacher that it was perfectly OK to wash mushrooms in water instead of carefully rubbing them with a towel or brushing them with a cute little brush. Every Richman observation of this sort is worth its weight in gold, as we, dear reader, simply do not have access to the venues Richman visits on a regular basis.

Like Villas and Steingarten (most especially like Villas), Richman has strong opinions about his subject. This is not a bad thing in an essayist. In fact, if a writer of opinion did not have strong opinions, it is hard to see why we would bother spending any time reading their stuff. One often does not realize what their opinions on a subject may be until they encounter the contrary opinion.

Where Richman gets into trouble is when he offers us generalizations. One generalization which I felt was especially suspect was his claim that the most influential chef in the United states was not James Beard, Andre Soltner, Alice Waters, Wolfgang Puck, Charley Trotter or... Jean-Louis Palladin, but `Le Bernardin' founder Gilbert Le Coze. This statement has two problems. One is that I thing a major case could be made for Alice Waters or several others on Richman's list over Le Coze. Another is that James Beard was not a chef. He was much more like Julia Child who Richman specifically identifies as a very influential non-chef. Another example of a doubtful generalization is the claim that chef's mothers do not cook at the stove at the back of the restaurant. I will only partially excuse Richman, as I suspect the statement is over two years old, before we all met Mama DeSpirito in Rocco's `The Restaurant'.

I would give Mr. Richman five stars if I had never read Villas or Steingarten or Behr or Thorne or even Robb Walsh, but I'm afraid I have to warn you, dear reader, that Mr. Richman's generalizations need to be taken with a pinch of salt.

Entertaining read with useful information.

What a fun read!! My husband found me giggling at chapter after chapter. I enjoy reading this kind of book. I am interested in what really goes on in the Culinary world. I would sugest this book for anyone that likes this kind of book.