“[T]o this day I am astonished that I had the nerve to ask over someone of [Mario] Batali’s reputation, along with six guests who thought they’d have an amusing evening witnessing my humiliation.” (p. 3)
What started out as a birthday celebration turned into the beginnings of a culinary adventure chronicled in the pages of Heat. Bill Buford’s journey takes him into the bowels of one of New York City’s finest restaurants, through the pubs of London, and all the way to Tuscany and Chianti to learn what it means to be a great cook. In doing so, he discovers that the kitchen is infinitely challenging yet rewarding at the same time.
The Italian restaurant Babbo, located in Greenwich Village, serves as the setting for a good portion of the book. Co-owner, chef, and television star Mario Batali is proud of the three-star rating his dining establishment has achieved from the New York Times, and he wants to make sure it stays that way. But will the addition of Buford, an amateur cook and writer for The New Yorker, be Batali’s downfall?
In the professional cooking hierarchy, life begins at the level of kitchen slave. Here, the rudimentary elements of the restaurant’s workings are learned, perfected, and repeated ad infinitum. Buford learns very quickly that there’s only one speed in the professional kitchen (warp) and it’s no place to be timid or hesitant. Through a series of trials and errors (such as his attempts to dice carrots), Buford begins to gain confidence and soon undertakes such challenging work as cooking fish on a grill so hot that it incinerates the hairs on his forearms. His first night without assistance as a line cook is a carefully detailed lesson of the tension, frustration, and (yes) heat that goes with being a part of the kitchen crew.
But Heat is more than simply Buford’s attempts to become a successful apprentice at a famous restaurant. His endeavors in the kitchen create an insatiable desire to learn more about the art of Italian cooking and what made Mario Batali into such a wonderful chef. As a result, he takes trips to London to learn from one of Batali’s contemporaries, Marco Pierre White, and later spends a considerable amount of time in Italy.
It is here where Buford begins to truly appreciate the art of creating and eating fine food. On one occasion, he learns the secret to making tortelloni. Another trip finds him in the hill country of Chianti with a butcher named Dario Cecchini, watching as he turns a meat shop into his own version of Carnegie Hall, complete with standing-room-only crowd and recitations from Dante’s Inferno.
All along the way, Buford draws the reader into the action by fleshing out the characters that make his narrative explode into vibrant color. The kitchen staff and their dreams and aspirations for their own restaurants (or to simply make a living in the US). Batali, his hard-living lifestyle, and his disdain for all things French. Marco Pierre White’s mercurial temper and penchant for colorful language. And Cecchini’s theatrics that may (or may not) be hiding something important.
One thing that should not be missed in Heat is the method Buford chooses to learn about all things Italian. Sure, he runs at breakneck pace in the Babbo kitchen, but he also takes time to slow down and learn from people skilled in the various arts of cuisine during his travels. In a biblical vein, Mary understood that it was more important to sit and learn from Jesus instead of rushing around like her sister Martha. Jesus said that Mary had “chosen what is better.” In our age of fast food and faster service, we would be wise to slow down and take the time to enjoy what we eat—from the selection of ingredients to the savoring of each bite of the creation.
And in the end, that’s what Heat is about: an intriguing, often humorous, celebration of all things food—from its roots to its creation and eventual enjoyment. It leaves this reviewer hungry for more. Bravissimo!
