Category Archives: Food Events
I’ve just turned to page 44 in a book I can’t read, written by a chef whose last name I can’t pronounce. Pictured is a bird I can’t believe he got onto US soil. And while his restaurant is one I can’t wait to visit, for now this cookbook and this dinner will have to do.
At the moment, it’s somewhere between one and four in the morning, and it’s awfully damn hot in here. Could it be the abundance of candles? Or is it my displeasure that we are seated across from frat row, young finance types taking turns making fools of themselves? Twice in the last five minutes, their champagne corks have hit the ceiling. Why were these people even born? Continue reading
“I am the most stupid cooker of eggs.”
A confession from the man in the red tee shirt. All morning, thick-framed eyeglasses slid down his Gallic nose as he spoke. With every punctuation mark, he’d scrunch his face to put them back in place. This time a hearty chuckle gave them an extra little push upwards. Our host was laughing at himself, and we giggled along with him.
“Just do new things, day after day. That is it.”
This French chef’s philosophizing might easily have created a motto for the event. It’s also French, and they call it Omnivore. Created back in 2003 as a forum for the “young, free, and open-minded” in the world of food, last month marked its third bite out of Big Apple. That morning’s chef-led master classes shared the playbill with a series of collaborative dinners that paired New York toques with their counterparts from abroad. Continue reading
“You owe me, bigtime.”
Those four words appear frequently in conversations between my girlfriend and I. By pure coincidence, I’m always on the receiving end.
Her eyes alone shouted them at me now. Some curious little man, cracked out on Spanish ham and Russian caviar, had just swiped an Italian sparkling water bottle from her hands and flashed it before the Danish gentleman standing next to us while his curious little friend photographed the crime.
The guy next to us was René Redzepi. And those two sneaky bastards were either chef groupies or desperate PR reps, maybe both. This was my poor girlfriend’s introduction to The Flemish Primitives, a food festival held last month in Ostend, Belgium. It was my introduction to the doghouse. Continue reading