Buford is Best!
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Like one or two other reviewers here, I'm astonished at those who found Buford's compelling take on his apprenticeship in Batali's famous NY institution, Babbo a 'yawn'. Far from it! It's an engaging and enticing read, and I never once felt it was too long or wished it would end. It's the kind of thing you take to bed, start reading, and then a glimpse at the clock reveals it's already 3am. And you still want to keep reading. Thoroughly gripping throughout. I kind of feel like I'm justifying this unnecessarily - you really just need to pick it up and start reading for yourself!
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Outstanding: engrossing, great-writing
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I'm staggered by the other reviews: were we reading the same book?
This was one of the best books I read all year. Halfway through it, I was phoning friends to recommend it, and have since bored countless people at parties by raving about it.
Fantastically written, laugh-out-loud funny, fascinating about a New York journalist who interviews a chef, wants to know more and starts work in a professional kitchen.
He then gets the bug; or rather, goes more than a little loopy obsessive: works nights, gives up his job, moves to Italy to learn to make pasta, comes back, moves to Italy to learn how to butcher a pig... And so one, so on.
Levels of drinking, decadence & utter, complete, insanity even Hunter S Thomson (who has a walk-on part) would be daunted by, all based on a totally absorbing discussion of food and what we have lost in terms of quality of eating and quality of life as a result. There is even the odd recipe thrown in too.
The fact is some of the best writing around doesn't hurt: fluent, vivid - and hysterical.
I agree it does go on: the last few chapters flag. And, yes, some of the historical research gets a bit dull.
But who cares: the sheer pace, vividness insight into life rarely seen and flair make it totally worth while.
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editor, edit thyself
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This is a charming 200 page book. After that it becomes tedious and meandering and in the end a real slog to finish. Buford's obsession for the "jus just" is funny and entertaining for about 2/3 of the story. After that it becomes mired in uninteresting anecdotes and trivia (historically when did the egg get added to the recipe for pasta is intriguing for half a page, not ten)that overcooks by many hours the final product. He is the kind of writer who thinks everything that interests him will interest you, but he is wrong. Perhaps a better writer could have pulled that off, but Buford is an editor who is writing a book about his love for cooking and in the end that distinction shows. What begins as a love letter from an obsessive becomes in the end the ramblings of a self indulgent food flaneur.
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Esoteric? Possibly. Worth the effort? Definitely
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Discouraged by the negative comments I found here I managed to locate a copy of Heat in a local library and borrowed that. Whilst I enjoyed the sections dealing with Batalli and Babbo, I thought the book came into its own when Buford made his way to Italy to round off his culinary education. His writing (and passion) reminded me of Jeffrey Steingarten.
I thoroughly enjoyed it
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Not cooked all the way through!
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The starters are very good, the main course looks appetizing but disappoints and the desserts non-existent.
The first one-third or so of the book was an excellent insight into the workings and tricks of the trade of a flourishing famous New York restaurant run by a larger than life aberrant celebrity chef.And there it petered out - lost in a mass of not very interesting debate on the question of " Jus versus Sauces" and other such culinary wranglings. What a shame!
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