Customer Reviews

Heat

5 star:		(104)
4 star:		(58)
3 star:		(22)
2 star:		(5)
1 star:		(6)

 

 

I don't go to restaurants. I don't watch FOOD Channel. I don't even order take-out. I'm just a pizza and burger guy with an occasional side trip to Taco Bell for my veggies. So why was I reading this book?

My lunch partner was reading this weirdly yellow hardback and slowly choking on his burrito as he chuckled through Page 230 where the author had become a walking grease fire. Now, I can understand the humor behind being lit up like a Christmas tree in my kitchen (I'd done that after turning on the burners without removing my Hungryman TV dinner carton on top of it.) But a whole book of such mishaps?

Ah, my friend urged this book on me and predicted I'd be converted! He would be able to persuade me to go to an eatery that didn't have paper boats of onion rings or plastic packets of mayo. I would want to eat ramps (huh?) and autumn squash! I would want to eat fennel pollen!!

And he was right! I was plastered to this book for the next week and a half. Buford started his quest to understand what goes on behind the professional kitchen, in Mario Batali's restaurant, Babbo. He offers himself as an unpaid servant. He promptly cuts himself while deboning ducks and hunting for their "oysters."

And his whole world is never the same again. After months of culinary bondage, he flies to Italy to roll pasta with Betta (why you make pasta like an old woman, eh?) and butcher tall cows with warbling Dario and carve thighs with the Maestro (of the Monster Hands) in Tuscany.

I suffered with him as Molto Mario roots in trash cans, retrieving celery leaves and lamb kidneys that shouldn't have been tossed in the garbage. I puzzled over the importance of broccoli floret heads to customers. I winced as he burned himself --- dropping ribs in popping olive oil--- by hand. (There's some tremendously good, bloody vivid descriptions of Buford's kitchen's injuries.) Its almost like reading a Clive Barker book with lard and chickpeas!

I laughed as he hauls a whole pig (not a mere piglet) to his home in Manhattan so he can butcher it. I cackled as he drops munchkin pasta on the floor-- trying to roll it to impossible thinness. I marveled at how Buford "touched" meat for "doneness" and the resemblance of tortellini pasta to "innie" belly buttons. I snickered at the almost pornographic way . . . sausages were made. I groaned at creepy Riccardo and the ever-swelling polenta.

This book is pullulating with such jewels. And I haven't even spoken of the bizarre personalities behind that reduction of liver in butter sauce. There's Mario Batali, bigger than life and much engaged with pig fat. Marco Pierre White and his restaurant empire and his tasty thoughts on the aging of game birds. Yuck! Then there's the sous chefs, the prep chefs, the grill guys and the pasta guys. All fascinating and as unforgetttable, in their way, as Batali and White's tantrums! Andy and Frankie, Memo, Tony Liu and Alex with their dreams of owning their own restaurants. The clan of Latin cooks and servers who inexplicably all come from the same town . . .

Read this book. Even if you're not a foodie. Even if your idea of fine dining is a tin of sardines on instant rice! You'll love every minute of it. 5 Stars Plus Plus Plus!

This is one of the most entertaining books I have ever read. The fact that it is about kitchens and food and chefs, etc. hardly matters: it is, first and last, a swashbuckling adventure in which our hero, the author, driven by curiosity and some unreasonable lust for kitchen skills, faces the heat in the kitchens of a couple of the most outsized, megalomaniacal chefs in the world and in a butcher shop in Italy. There is gossip of rare incision, gory details that beggar fiction, scenarios beyond the imagination of theater, all falling over each other pell-mell because Bill Buford's lust for skills and experience is like a locomotive and his writing is brilliant.

His humility is the subject, really. It makes the story possible, makes the humor irresistable, puts him in situations that most of us are too proud to ever experience, and gives his prose the most winning lightness and warmth. By the end of the book, which I lamented like I was losing a pal, it became clear that Buford is a sort of modern-day Don Quixote, venturing forth into the unkown driven by a vague but powerful sense of childlike curiosity... actually, maybe he is the Elephant Child, repeatedly spanked by the grownups for his "Satiable Curtiosity"... or maybe he's a new breed of Late-Empire reporter, dutifully recording the vicissitudes of our wealth-enabled excesses from the foxholes of gluttony. Fact remains that he has shown us something keenly observed, something that is right under our noses but almost invisible, and he has done it so well because he is so omnivorous in his hunger for experience and so teachable. Here's another stab at describing Mr. Buford: he is the anti-Bond, in no way jaded, un-blinkered by savoir-faire, open to the world, and fantastically observant as a result.

This is great reportage, great story-telling, great humor... I strongly recommend it, especially if you loved Kitchen Confidential and The Reach of a Chef. Outstanding.

Somewhere around the middle of his life, Bill Buford decided that he wanted to escape the confines of a writing job at the "New Yorker" and offer himself up to Mario Batali at the super-chic restaurant Babbo as an intern: as in hard work, long hours and no pay. This is dedication on the one hand and a fulfillment of his lifelong interest/fascination with Food: its history, its preparation, its art as well as its business and technical side on the other.
In "Heat" Buford offers up a Memoir/Diary of his time at Babbo (he aptly calls this his "Kitchen Slave" days) as well as his trek to Tuscany to learn the art of Pasta and to Panzano to apprentice himself to the most famous butcher in Italy, Dario Cecchini.
As someone who has spent most of my life in and around the food business, I recognize so much of what Buford relates: "When I made the decision to become a Chef, I accepted I would never claim a sick day for the rest of my life. It's one of the sacrifices of my calling."
And while working the Grill station at Babbo, Buford waxes poetically: "The Grill Station is Hell. You stand at it for five minutes and you think this is what Dante had in mind. It is in a dark hot corner--hotter than any spot in the kitchen, hotter than anywhere else in your life" Or when Frankie at Babbo explains to Buford the simple pleasure of preparing food: "You make the food, (Frankie) said." "The simple good feeling he was describing might be akin to what you'd experience making a toy or a piece of furniture, or maybe even a work of art...this is an elementary thing that is seldom articulated."
Along with the Memoir musings, Buford also goes into the history of food. For one: When did the Italians begin to use Eggs to bind the flour for Pasta? Or when Caterina de Medici left Italy for France did she indeed take all of the Italian Court recipes and Cooks and began the French Cooking tradition? Good questions, easy to answer? Not really and Buford's investigation is fascinating.
Bill Buford has written a terrific book covering all manner of real-life experiences as well as relating his investigations of and on the philosophy and history of all manner of food, social and moral topics. But at the center of "Heat" stands the man Buford himself: committed, dedicated, funny, resourceful and witty as hell.

Bill Buford decided in his early forties to ditch his job as a successful New Yorker editor to enter the world of food. What started with a simple assignment to write a magazine story on Mario Batali, the reknowned Food Network chef, ended up taking him to Italy and becoming a cook. "Heat" details this journey, including the back stories of numerous chefs and foodies with whom Buford ending up working, such as Batali.

The book is entertaining for the most part; hearing about the difficulties of being a line cook in a three-star New York restaurant is certainly interesting. Buford started at the bottom by prepping, including spending hours dicing carrots only to have them thrown out because they were done incorrectly. The book certainly conveys the message that great food requires precision and working in these kinds of restaurants is brutal. Of course, we've seen this same idea before in numerous other "insider" books.

What sets "Heat" slightly apart is the path that Buford takes. When he first starts cooking, he's the "kitchen b*tch" in Batali's Babbo Italian restaurant, and you really don't think he'll make it for more than a few months. However, he becomes enthralled with food, in particular homemade authentic Italian food. He becomes convinced that he has to follow Batali's lead and spend time as an intern in Italy, first learning pasta and then working for a famous Tuscan butcher.

Buford meets some interesting characters along the way and tells some fun stories. However, I could never shake the feeling that Buford was just playing a role. Indeed, he tries to downplay the fact that he entered this world as a writer - we don't get the full explanation of why he started in Batali's kitchen (i.e., to write a story) until page 141. In addition, he's supposed to be an underling in Batali's kitchen, yet several times he's invited to meals with Batali and treated as something different than the lowest ranking cook in the kitchen. Perhaps this complaint is quibbling, but it broke the tone for me enough to dock the book a star. Foodies of all sorts will probably enjoy reading this book and may even learn a few things, but I still found it strangely unsatisfying.

I loved reading this book. I happened to overlap my time working the pastry department at Babbo with Mr.Buford's internship there. He illustrates life in that kitchen in such beautiful, humorous, and brutally honest detail, it made me very nostalgic for those days. I worked primarily during the day I only had my trial-by-fire one night a week during service. Pastry was not nearly as brutal as what the line cooks underwent but it was stressful enough for someone inclined towards production. It was gift for me to work alongside such colorful and gifted cooks. I moved on from the Babbo kitchen after one year but to this day, it's one of my fondest work experiences and I have only respect for the people I met there. The book on whole was highly entertaining and engaging. I'd recommend to everyone.

"Heat," like a good, succulent novel, kept me up most of the night last night. And like a good novel, it replays over and over again in my head. I think about the "characters" that Buford stirs in so well. What an amazingly well-written book, too. I love the way he layers his own "stuff" with the "stuff" of all the people he works with or talks with. To top it all off, the gravy (or the frosting, if you prefer) is the technical aspects and detailed descriptions of cooking and the history of cooking. For example, Buford's polenta "obsession" caused me to finally get up and grab my little yellow spiral notebook so that I could jot down some of the historical details, things I want to obsess about, and so. Last, but not least, the cherry on top is to learn more about Mario Batali's modus operandi, what makes the guy's public and private persona. Now I'm off to Google Bartolomeo Scappi, Pope Pius V's cook, whom Buford mentions on page 146. And then I'm going to check out I promessi sposi (The Betrothed), by Manzoni, which spices up pages 147-148. Buford's book will sit prominently displayed among my other Italian cookbooks, all 250+ of them. (Even though it's not really a cookbook, Heat contains enough information about some dishes so that you CAN easily cook some things.) Molto bene!

Judging a book by its cover is a bad idea. If you do, you'll miss out on this one. Years later, when you pick up Heat again, you'll wish that you had read it sooner.

Bill Buford engages the senses with words that rise from the page. You can actually smell and taste what he describes. And his descriptions of the kitchens -- and the personalities that live there -- linger long after you've left them.

Buford's collection of larger-than-life Mario Batali stories fit the stereotype of a kitchen-crazed personality that knows no boundaries. (I'd rather work in politics; it's less stressful and more sane.) And Buford's journeys overseas to discover when the first egg was used to make pasta or how to properly butcher a pig are the journeys that maybe we all make. In our imagination. At the grocery store. Or from memories of growing up in a Italian kitchen. (I never questioned how my family made pasta or sausage or why my Mom's sauce tastes so good. Now, I need to know ...)

Once you get past the cover, you'll explore what really happens inside a kitchen and discover new worlds. You may then visit the local butcher for the first time. And wonder why you've settled for anything less.

Having worked in many professional kitchens, this book really hits home. He describes situations in the kitchens that seem normal for us working there but from an outsiders view they seem hilarious. People may not want to hear this but this is a very good account of the life of professional "slaves." As noted by a previous poster, the language is a bit foul in parts but that also is just like most kitchens. These professionals "live" to cook. They do almost nothing else, they are very dedicated to ensuring the food is great and your experience is great, so you can forgive them a few indiscretions.

Buford does an excellent job describing the motivations behind the wonderful people who prepare our food and allow us to enjoy a night out with wonderful cuisine.

I can cook, but I don't. I do, however, watch the Food Network religiously and find it quite entertaining despite the fact that I wouldn't eat much of what I see cooked on the shows I watch. That said, I have become fascinated with the cooks and chefs I see each day and how/why they do what they do. I personally have never felt compelled to research the food I eat and how and why is it treated/cooked/served in the way that it is, so I am intrigued by those that are so passionate about that very thing.

As a Food Network devotee, the promise of a "back story" on Mario Batali is what convinced me to read this book. There is a good bit about Mario and his restaurants (particularly Babbo) in the book and those sections are revealing, humorous, and sometimes shocking (if I'd planned a trip to Babbo before reading this book, I'd probably cancel my reservations now). This book is SO much more than that, though, and my interest in the non-Mario parts of the book truly surprised me.

Buford tells of his nearly-compulsive need to learn the true roots of Italian cooking and writes intensely detailed descriptions of pasta-making (when did eggs become part of the recipe?, handmade vs. machine-made, etc.), butchering (pigs and cows), animal husbandry, the origin and geography of authentic Italian ingredients and the lives and backgrounds of his Italian mentors. Because of his work at Babbo and his relationship with Batali, he (Buford) did his best to replicate much of Batali's early training in Italy, visiting the same places and working with the same mentors when possible. If someone had described this part of the book to me, I'd have certainly said, "Boring!," but I was surprised at just how compelling the story was and how I was drawn into it so easily.

The writer is gifted and his passion about his subject matter is apparent throughout the book. The characters are intriguing and the anecdotes are entertaining, allowing the story to carry "non-foodies" through some of the more detailed sections (described above) that may seem tedious to them. "Foodies," I suspect, will love the book in its entirity...minute details and all.

PS: On a side note, watching "Molto Mario" and "Iron Chef America" on Food Network is a whole new experience for me after reading this book. Mario has always seemed a bit snobbish to me regarding Italian cooking, ingredients, flavors, etc., but this book helped me understand his passion for and knowledge of all things Italian...language, geography, culture, food, etc. If you are a fan of Mario's, I'd definitely recommend this book -- you'll see him in a whole new light once you've read it!

Having been a cook in a chi chi Brooklyn eatery 25 years ago, this brought back memories of the intensity of a busy kitchen .. however Buford's visits to Italy, informative little snippets about the origins of some dishes (like Tortiloni and Ravioli), and some recipes makes your mouth water and fills in the missing pieces that you will never find in recipe or travel books. He exposes the craziness that makes a great chef and the author gets caught up in the maelstrom that makes him crazy and a good cook. I recommend this highly!