To me, life without veal stock, pork fat, sausage, organ meat, demi-glace, or even stinky cheese is a life not worth living.
Street food, I believe, is the salvation of the human race.
If I’m an advocate for anything, it’s to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. The extent to which you can walk in someone else’s shoes or at least eat their food, it’s a plus for everybody. Open your mind, get up off the couch, move.
If you’re twenty-two, physically fit, hungry to learn and be better, I urge you to travel – as far and as widely as possible. Sleep on floors if you have to. Find out how other people live and eat and cook. Learn from them – wherever you go.
Good food and good eating are about risk.
Thinking of getting into the leg-breaking business, so I can profitably sell crutches later.
Margarine? That’s not food. I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter? I can. If you’re planning on using margarine in anything, you can stop reading now, because I won’t be able to help you.
I write quickly with a sense of urgency. I don’t edit myself out of existence, meaning I’ll try to write 50 or 60 pages before I start rereading, revising and editing. That just helps with my confidence.
Everything important I learned, I learned as a dishwasher.
There is no other place on earth even remotely like New Orleans. Don’t even try to compare it to anywhere else.
You have to be a romantic to invest yourself, your money, and your time in cheese.
They’re professionals at this in Russia, so no matter how many Jell-O shots or Jager shooters you might have downed at college mixers, no matter how good a drinker you might think you are, don’t forget that the Russians – any Russian – can drink you under the table.
Meals make the society, hold the fabric together in lots of ways that were charming and interesting and intoxicating to me. The perfect meal, or the best meals, occur in a context that frequently has very little to do with the food itself.
For me, the cooking life has been a long love affair, with moments both sublime and ridiculous.
The roots of creativity of cooking are hungry people trying to figure out how to take something that’s not particularly fresh or tender and transform it into it something delicious that everyone will love.
As a chef I’m not your dietitian or your ethicist, I’m in the pleasure business.
An employer of mine back in the ’80s was kind enough to take me on after a rough patch, and it made a big difference in my life that I knew I was the sort of person who showed up on time. It’s a basic tell of character.
I’m excited by any food that’s prepared by someone who’s proud of what they’re doing, who puts a personal imprint on food.
My French definitely improves the more I drink, as I worry less and less about absolutely perfect grammar. I do speak and understand the language, just not particularly well.
Skills can be taught. Character you either have or you don’t have.