The Seasoning of a Chef, November 5, 2005 — For some reason I am fascinated with books that detail people rising in their profession. I used to only read the books about CEOs of technology companies, but now I also read about chefs. There's something about understanding the choices they made, the skills they learned, and the luck they encountered. I especially like reading the person's own version and then the critical version written by others. This is typically only possible with CEOs as not a lot of people are writing book-length criticisms of chefs. That said, the new book The Seasoning of a Chef - My Journey from Diner to Ducasse and Beyond by Doug Psaltis (the Chef) with (his brother and literary agent) Michael Psaltis, and the response to it encapsulated in this thread on eGullet come about as close as you can find.

I've been delaying writing about this book because I'm not sure how I feel about it. And frankly I'm a little gunshy given the reaction to the last time I wrote about a book. But let's dive in. Flame wars are always fun. The book is definitely readable. It only took me a couple of days to rip through it. Some of the literary maneuvers (like telling a story out of order for dramatic effect) seem tried on for size almost like the author has seen others do it and decided to see how it worked. But when a chef is writing a book (even with his brother who is said to have some skills in this area) this can be forgiven. I liked hearing the details of working in these kitchens. It's basically voyeuristic fun especially when you get to see the author treated to special privileges and perks by the Ducasse organization including visiting and working in his other restaurants. When I look at the individual parts of the book it adds up to the notion that I enjoyed reading the book. And in fact I did.

And yet, there's also something unsatisfying about the book. It's kind of like a meal that has great technical execution but no soul. How do you separate the fact that your mouth is satisfied, but your heart isn't getting what it needs? That's kind of how the book was for me. Psaltis was telling his own life story. Even sharing intimate details about how he was feeling and tradeoffs he made, and yet the characters all felt two dimensional. Psaltis moves up the ranks of professional cooks in Manhattan methodically, and while he shares some of the tradeoffs he made, I never really felt them. In fact, I just really had no idea what kind of a guy he was. I walked away feeling that I'd gotten a somehow sanitized version of what happened. Not because he necessarily took out all the ugly details (though he did remove some) but the story just became one of a few repetitive notes: worked hard, learned stuff, sometimes encountered challenges, sometimes overcame challenges, sometimes got rewarded, moved on.

In a way writing a book like this is almost impossible as nobody is ever going to be happy. If you aren't glowingly positive about everyone then people get insulted. (And sure enough Mario Batali and Jacques Pepin regret the blurbs they offered for the back of the book. My feedback to them - you get what you deserve for putting your name on something you didn't fully review. I would be more embarassed admitting that I put my name on something I'd never read than the fact that I endorsed a book that wasn't 100% glowing about Thomas Keller. Isn't the whole point of a chef's good name that they ensure their own personal stamp of quality is earned by every single thing they put in front of a customer? I wonder if you do the same cursory review of food you sell before you put your name on it?) And if you are glowingly positive then you've written a puff piece. It's clear that Psaltis is trying to strike what in his mind was probably a reasonable balance and set of tradeoffs that took into account being honest and not trashing people unreasonably. Mysteriously names of restaurants and chefs disappear or are changed whenever Psaltis has negative things to say about his experience. And in the case of his discussion about the French Laundry where he can't anonymize the tale, with every criticism of Keller and (mostly) his restaurant he loads us up with praise for the very same. I feel like I understand the goal, but unfortunately the book comes off as inauthentic. After reading it I enjoyed many of the details of the inner workings, but feel mostly unsatisfied. And after reading all the eGullet machinations I also end up wondering how much is true. Of course when you write your own story you're bound to put it through your own lens so some of that should be forgiven.

In the end, this book kind of reminds me of the "reality" show The Restaurant with Rocco diSpirito. The book is entertaining. The backgrounds are from a world I like reading about - the world of professional cooking. But I never feel like I'm really seeing the truth. Things feel manufactured. One telling thing, with the Rocco show I kind of suspected that the food they were making wasn't something I would enjoy. And reports I've seen claim that I wasn't wrong. With Psaltis' book, I often wondered, do I want to eat this guy's food? I almost wanted to wait to write about this book until I've eaten at Psaltis' new restaurant - Country in Manhattan. Is it fair to look at the quality of a book based on the food prepared by its author? I say yes. Because ultimately if the food reflects the makeup of the book - entertaining but without soul, then my conclusion will be that the book in its worst light is a reflection of the author. But if the food is great, then I'll conclude that there's a great chef doing his best to be balanced and just misfiring in terms of coming off genuine. I don't know why this context should make a difference in my final estimation of the book, but for some reason it does. I guess its just hard to know how much credibility to give a chef/author when you've never eaten their food.