An ounce of sauce covers a multitude of sins — A review of Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential

Ok, I know I’m 20-years late to this one. But, I’m an inept cook. So, it wasn’t until a coworker mentioned that Kitchen Confidential was her favorite book that I considered it. I found an audiobook version and it seemed like the perfect companion for a long day hike.

The audiobook is narrated by Anthony, and it feels more like a conversation than a reading. The prose is punctuated by throat laughs. He pronounces “a lot of” as “alotta”. It’s a delightful departure from the stilted delivery of most audiobook narrators.

The book recounts Anthony’s journey to culinary success, from trying cold soup in France as a child (when it dawned on him that food can be more than sustenance) to serving as head chef at NYC’s famed Brasserie Les Halles. Along the way, attempts are failed, lessons are learned, and friends are made.

A throughline of the book is the rough and tumble lifestyle of restaurant workers, especially in upscale establishments. Behind the white tablecloths and sparkling crystal, there exist hierarchies based on titles, seniority, and intimidation. Chefs, line cooks, servers, and runners fight to assert themselves as formidable, but unite to meet the needs of customers at mealtime. The artfully-arranged food on our plates is crafted by blistered, maimed, and scarred hands. It’s the product of grueling long shifts fueled by drugs and alcohol. The workers have their own world and their own language. Example:

*'I gotta hot nut for that six-top on seven, Cabrone! It's been fired for ten fucking minutos, pinche tortuga. What? You don't got yer meez together, asesino? Get that shit in the window, you seso de polio pinche grill man throw it in the fucking jukebox if you have to. The rest of the order my hand! And don't forget to give it a wipe and some mota and a squirt* of that red jiz on the way out, I got shit hanging here and you're falling in the fucking weeds!'

As a non-cook, my favorite chapter was From our Kitchen to your Table, which provided guidelines for eating out. Anthony advocates for approaching eating like an adventure, not taking unnecessary risks while also accepting that risk is inherent in trying unfamiliar food. Don’t eat seafood on Mondays (it’s probably been sitting around since Friday). Don’t eat at restaurants with dirty bathrooms (bathrooms are easier to clean than kitchens). Don’t eat mussels unless you know the chef (they are stored in tanks with their own waste before they are cooked). Do eat the bread (who ever died from recycled bread?). And be wary of brunch (it’s a chance to offload leftover ingredients and manned by less experienced cooks).

As someone who likes to think that I could someday cook, my second favorite chapter was How to Cook Like the Pros, which provided cooking tips and tricks. Forego a suite of fancy knives in favor of a Global-brand chef’s knife. Use butter liberally. Use garlic sparingly. Make your own stock.

Anthony can come off as a bit of a snob. He uses culinary terms of art without offering definitions. I lost track of the myriad restaurants that he name drops. They all sounded vaguely French or Italian and, especially on audiobook, it was easy to conflate them.

At times, Anthony exhibits callousness towards the immigrant line chefs (most being from Mexico, El Salvador, and Ecuador). He holds them to the highest standards without acknowledging that perhaps for them, being in the food service was not a choice, or at least not their first choice. He recounts working for a particular restaurant proprietor who would help cooks obtain visas in exchange for working for him, only to demand that they be disposed to whatever task was needed whenever it was needed. Anthony’s tone is one of bemusement.

He redeems himself to a limited extent when he praises their work ethic and skill: “The very backbone of the industry, whether you like it or not, is inexpensive Mexican, Dominican, Salvadorian, and Ecuadorian labor — most of whom could cook you under the table without breaking a sweat.”

All-in-all, the book opened my eyes to the world of food workers, almost cult-like in its dogmatism and noxiousness. It exists in parallel to my world, but its denizens make my world possible. I so appreciate them. But frankly I’m happy to stay out of the kitchen.

(Some notable excerpts listed here.)