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A review by leighnonymous
The Soul of a Chef: The Journey Toward Perfection by Michael Ruhlman
3.0
Two-thirds of this book raced along well but it ground to a screeching halt when I reached the final section. Ruhlman followed a group of chefs pursuing the debatably-important achievement of CMC (Certified Master Chef). This was almost like watching an episode of a reality TV show where contestants are voted off, one by one. Although his observations were heavily slanted toward one chef (Brian Polcyn), I still felt like the author gave us pretty good insight into the other chefs and their reasons for being there.
The second section profiled Michael Symon of Lola, one of Cleveland's best restaurants (yes, you read that right - Cleveland). Ruhlman did capture Symon's personality pretty well. I wanted to not only eat there but work for him, too. If you believe the author, Symon is the happiest man on earth.
The final section, about French Laundry, arguably the best restaurant in the world, dragged. It was reading this section that made me realize that the author truly isn't that interesting a writer. He describes food well, which is what readers get captivated with but he uses it as misdirection to hide his plain way of stating things.
Also, Ruhlman came off as an elitist snob; he's a recipe-dropper (a la name-dropper) and seemed to want to recall his glory days (of only a year previous) "working the line" in various restaurants. His description of how Thomas Keller, owner and chef at the French Laundry, created a recipe in his kitchen while Keller was staying with him just smacked of bragging. And no, I don't feel like I'm a Neanderthal for not having eaten a calf brain or a pig's tongue. Just because you've eaten them, Ruhlman, does not make you cultured.
The biggest irritation I found about this book was the vocabulary. What the hell is a lowboy? What is a consomme? I wasn't familiar with some of the terms and most of the kitchen equipment and Ruhlman, information-hoarder that he is, didn't reveal definitions for any of that. He was all about describing forcemeat and how rabbits scream when you kill them and pouring boiling water over lobsters until they die. If I wasn't eating meat before, I certainly wouldn't be after reading this. Kitchens are brutal. I won't be reading any more of this author but I am very interested in more culinary writing.
The second section profiled Michael Symon of Lola, one of Cleveland's best restaurants (yes, you read that right - Cleveland). Ruhlman did capture Symon's personality pretty well. I wanted to not only eat there but work for him, too. If you believe the author, Symon is the happiest man on earth.
The final section, about French Laundry, arguably the best restaurant in the world, dragged. It was reading this section that made me realize that the author truly isn't that interesting a writer. He describes food well, which is what readers get captivated with but he uses it as misdirection to hide his plain way of stating things.
Also, Ruhlman came off as an elitist snob; he's a recipe-dropper (a la name-dropper) and seemed to want to recall his glory days (of only a year previous) "working the line" in various restaurants. His description of how Thomas Keller, owner and chef at the French Laundry, created a recipe in his kitchen while Keller was staying with him just smacked of bragging. And no, I don't feel like I'm a Neanderthal for not having eaten a calf brain or a pig's tongue. Just because you've eaten them, Ruhlman, does not make you cultured.
The biggest irritation I found about this book was the vocabulary. What the hell is a lowboy? What is a consomme? I wasn't familiar with some of the terms and most of the kitchen equipment and Ruhlman, information-hoarder that he is, didn't reveal definitions for any of that. He was all about describing forcemeat and how rabbits scream when you kill them and pouring boiling water over lobsters until they die. If I wasn't eating meat before, I certainly wouldn't be after reading this. Kitchens are brutal. I won't be reading any more of this author but I am very interested in more culinary writing.