David Lebovitz is a cook and a baker and a veteran of Alice Waters’s Chez Panisse, who discovered his writerly voice ten years ago when he began blogging culinary dispatches from Paris on his website. You hear that voice in My Paris Kitchen. It is personal, accessible, chatty, and the book is as much an autobiography as a collection of recipes. It is also, on just about every page, a happy hymn to the City of Light. There are some inspired shorter versions of bistro classics (like slow roasting duck legs in the oven rather than laboriously cooking them in gallons of fat), and some clever insider tricks (substituting cocoa powder for blood in coq au vin, adding an egg or two to a crêpe batter to keep it from running away from you, and bourbon, beer, and ketchup in the sour-sweet French version of pork ribs).
It also does to me what any good cookbook does to most of us who like reading good cookbooks: They make us want to make food.
In this, reading a good cookbook is different from other reading experiences. Not only does it transport you to another place (for instance, to a condition of wanting to eat food now, please), it transports you into your kitchen.
The salt cod fritters with tartar sauce, for instance. I love salt cod (brandade de morue); why have I never fried them as fritters? Lebovitz's are killer, especially garnished with a proper tartar (mayonnaise, with equal parts chopped up cornichons, shallots, and capers). I made my mayonnaise, mainly because I will never stop being thrilled at watching what happens to egg yolks and oil when whisked together in a state of panic and fear. With the leftover mayonnaise, I made a celeriac salad. In France, I had discovered that that is what everyone does with their leftover mayonnaise: They mix it with grated celeriac. Lebovitz adds mustard, which makes the dish sing.
I read his preparation of guinea hen and figs -- the bird cooked in a Dutch oven with wine and stock and root vegetables (with a little flour to make a roux, an old-fashioned and surprisingly happy touch). And I thought: This is what I want to eat right now. Lebovitz’s recipe assumes one guinea hen for four people, which struck me as perfectly sound, as long as everyone is skinny and doesn’t like food and you have five other courses to go with it, plus three desserts. But since I am lucky enough to have a large casserole pot I cooked two birds; and since I was making this in the winter, when there were no figs, I used apples instead, roasting them separately and introducing apple variations (cider, Calvados, cinnamon) to my pot.
This is the kind of thing a good cookbook does. It makes you make stuff. You feel creative. And you’re not. (Even the apple variations in my pot came from another book.) And yet you are: After all, when you finish a novel -- say, something by Jonathan Franzen -- you don’t get out of your chair and make a family, do you? No. But with a good cookbook you get out of your chair and make food.
The book is anyone’s winner, unless, like me, you happen to read Fancy Desserts afterwards.
Wow! Where did this guy come from? And can I make sure that I follow him wherever he goes next?
Since 2008, Brooks Headley has been the pastry chef of Del Posto. Until recently, I was living in France since 2008. (Thus my insider track on what to do with leftover mayonnaise.) My not being in America is not necessarily a reason for my not knowing anything about Brooks Headley (James Beard winner, much celebrated, etc.), but it is a possible one. The fact is: I did know nothing, and had heard nothing, and therefore came to this book as a completely ignorant, uninformed, clueless reader.
And the book is wonderful.
Is it a cookbook? Yes; mainly; sometimes. The photography sucks, deliberately. The color is washed out, deliberately. It’s the opposite of food porn. It’s what you go to if you just wasted an afternoon watching the Food Network.
But is it a cookbook? There is no chapter of pastry kitchen basics -- which is curious in a dessert book -- except that here, there is no basic anything.
The recipes come at you every which way. They are sometimes complete. Some of them probably work. They are all nothing less than very idiosyncratic. And yet they are also, somehow, not arty.
Maybe it’s not a cookbook.
From it, you might learn how to pickle strawberries (always useful). Or to search out ugly fruit (a relief). Or how to candy fennel, or to smoke your applesauce (who knew?), or to make a gelato from celery or cashews or yeast (!), and to use only with frozen peas (not fresh).
It will deepen your love for vinegar.
But did I, could I, would I, would you, would anyone actually cook from it?
Well, a little. I tried the Coca-Cola sauce, which doesn’t actually use Coca-Cola, but simulates it and cites no less an authority than the great Ferran Adrià of El Bulli fame to celebrate the American love of sweet and savory: A burger with ketchup and a Coca-Cola is our national treasure. "Coke is it, man. Coke is it."
I didn’t try to make the brown butter panna cotta and not merely because it would have taken three days. (Okay, maybe that was the reason, but I love the idea of it, and will try to make it, I’m sure of it, probably.) And I also liked the riffing on gelatin. Headley once hated gelatin: "Why do so many pastry chefs use so much gelatin? They rely on the stuff. They worship it! Is it all about control? I prefer being slightly out of control." (He then rediscovers gelatin, and thus the panna cotta. I love gelatin.)
I am, as I write, making the book’s version of the red pepper sauce inspired by the demon Dario Cecchini, the Satanic butcher in Tuscany.
But is this a cookbook?
I am cooking from it. So, maybe?
It has a lot of jokes. It has anecdotes about working with Mark Ladner, one of the genius chefs in New York -- and you can never get enough Mark Ladner. It has essays by the Headley’s friends (on sugar, or taste buds, or chocolate).
It is humble. It is brave. It is extreme. It is wacky. It is by far and away the best anti-cookbook cookbook I have ever read. I will be reading it again and again. It is genius. Bravo, Brooks Headley!
129 Comments
Remember Piglet 2013 when April Bloomfield's book was to be judged by Fergus Henderson? To avoid controversy decision was made by a voice cast of other judges and Henderson only wrote what makes a good cookbook. Why not this time?
http://www.tipsybaker.com/
http://www.tipsybaker.com
I must, however, say how disappointed I am in the 'lazy way out' actions of this particular reviewer, Bill Buford. Perhaps the reviewers are not paid, so they don't feel bad handing in a piece of non-work like his...? Did he not realize the serious responsibility that he was handed by 52? To quote 52er ruckford_pie:
" No hate to Brooks - his book was very interesting and really groundbreaking in its anti-style but the Lebovitz book is the one that will be dogeared and worn and spattered in less than a year. And... is it not a cookbook contest? Should'nt they be required to cook from it in some considered way and not just make some sauces? "
But coming in to the Piglet all I wanted was to see how Brooks would do, because his book is incredible. Its innovative and inspiring and I have cooked plenty from it with great results. This book has truly changed the way I think about food.
I've seen so many lists on the top cookbooks of 2014 where Greenspan and Lebovitz dominated and Headley was overlooked. I think the head to head format of this competition has really helped this book get the recognition it deserves.
I was not at all familiar with many of the reviewers/chefs/cooks, but one that caught my attention was Edward Lee's judgment. I was fascinated by his articulateness, his erudition. I found his writing thoroughly engaging and made a mental not to look into his work.
Imagine my surprise when he later turned up as a "contestant." His essays spoke to me and I knew, even though I do not cook in his style, that I must browse through his "Smoke and Pickles."
Yes, his review was great. The best yet I've read on this site. Even though "Fancy Desserts" does not appeal to me on any level, I enjoy the reads, the education, the exposure to the unfamiliar.
Exactly what I love about food52.
Just wanted to give a shout out too to the Food52 editors and say thank you so much for another fabulous Piglet this year! I really enjoyed all of the books covered both in the main competition and in the Community Picks sidebar. The judging and writing was stellar and set the bar really high for next year. I loved reading about so many wonderful-soundiing cookbooks and have put many of them on my ever-expanding wish list. This is such a wonderful event -- I look forward to it all year!
I, like the majority below, am baffled by this outcome. I own both books, and while Headley's book initially provided lots of 'wow factor' and some interesting insight into his thought process as a pastry chef, all that razzle-dazzle has subsided and settled on a bookshelf. Lebovitz's book, however, continues to inspire and comfort me. I could recount more than a dozen personal stories Lebovitz told, as if they were told to me around a cozy table, in front of a roaring fireplace, with a lush glass of Bordeaux and a fabulous meal. I reach for it weekly. Headley? I remember a few of his tricks here and there, but in the way that I would remember a punk kid who tore through a fancy restaurant on a skateboard, versus Lebovitz who established a genuine dialogue and sense of culinary intimacy with his readers. Kudos to Headley for the win, but for me, Lebovitz was the clear winner.
OTOH, I MUST have David's new book Bill's review of it had me absolutely salivating. It's about time I came face to face with celeriac!
Still, it was a fun year and I enjoyed the reviews as well as the ongoing tennis match in the recipe/personality debate.
Thanks to all the reviewers who spent so many hours reading, testing, and writing. The prose to be found in them is literary as well as informative and much appreciated.
Also, as much as I like David Lebovitz - I'm a longtime fan - there's something refreshing about a boundary-pushing book that people might not have otherwise noticed winning over a book of French recipes.
My theory: I think everyone who pushed this book through {male judges all} got
seduced by the cool hip bad boy vibe Headley projects. They wanted to be identified with the badass {who coincidentally works for Mario Batali, so slight conflict of interest here}. Ugh.
I make a delicious Alice Medrich cake, which calls for you to use almonds and grind them yourself. Without a contrary instruction, I have always used unblanced raw almonds, which give the cake a lovely color because the almonds still have their skins. HOWEVER, in Fancy Desserts Brooks Headley says that almond flour is good but has no flavor unless it's toasted. So now, since what I am doing is actually making my own almond flour for this cake, per Brooks Headley, I blitz the almonds in my food processor and then toast them for five minutes in a 325 degree oven. The cake I have made for YEARS is improved by this little change.
And just as I got to the end of this review, before I saw who won, I had to jump up because the timer went off on the toasting almonds. HaHa. What fun to come back and see who "won."
But they both win - each is a great book! Congratulations.