The chef of excess: Mario Batali

Mario Batali, from My Last Supper


The New Yorker's Bill Buford writes about time spent in Mario's company, shoes and kitchen.

The Devil in the Kitchen

Photograph by Jillian Edelstein for the New Yorker

The new yorker's Bill Buford writes an extensive account of the most foul-mouthed Chef of our times.

Dish #2 Roasted Chicken with Chopsuey

It's a lazy sunday evening dinner, and i wanted to surprise her with a simple chicken dinner. She's been working hard the whole week and and a simple special sunday dinner while watching Joaquin Phoenix + Gwyneth Paltrow's latest, Two Lovers , I thought, would be a good way to cap the weekend.

AUDIO:

"Hide and Seek"- Imogen Heap

Dish #1

Butter poached Salmon with Cauliflower curry and Steamed rice

i hope she likes it....

Rockstar

Marco Pierre White, mentor to Mario Batali, Anthony Bourdain & Gordon Ramsay

(photo copyright by Bloomsbury USA, 2007)

I am not a trained chef. I have not studied in any culinary schools.

However, my love and passion for cooking, love and life has led me to the 3 great master chefs that I admire, and in my own little way, try to emulate.

Mario Batali, Anthony Bourdain, and Gordon Ramsay.

Do you notice the pattern here?

Simply, It's ROCK & ROLL!

In a past life, I lived as a rockstar. I didn't sleep, rocked all night and smoked herbs that your grandmother didn't use in the kitchen.

But as I grew older, I realized that this lifestyle was not for me and tried integrating myself once more into the flock of society.

It didn't take long before I puked myself out of the farm, I was the wolf in sheep's clothing.

I was a rebel, a creative unwilling to wear a leash and sniff the arse of power. I was also living alone, and had to learn to cook, as a way of taking care of myself.

But then I fell in love, as we often do, and my heart and love was something for keeps, something you don't let go, something special, something, for life.

I never saw my father cooking in the kitchen aside from the fried eggs and hotdogs for breakfast. It was always Mom who made the special stuff, doing her best for us during the holidays.

But back to me, I started cooking for serious this year. Learning to cut, learning to sniff out the best produce, I seriously considered cooking this year.

Why?

I was given the chance to prepare dinner, sometimes lunch, for my love. It's all complicated , but hey, at the end of the day, I was the only one left at home to prep dinner so I had to hone my skills, fast.

This is where I got the inspiration to do this blog. Cook for my heart, my love my sweet of all sweets. 100 dishes. the number is not the be all and end all, but just a short measure.

And in the end, if i get her back, we both would've partaken at least of the best 100 meals I have made for her.


AUDIO:

Hold You in My Arms - Ray La Montagne

Oh My Heart

"I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is."
Vladimir Nabokov

My Dearest,

I don't know what went wrong. It's the distance, I guess.
Sometimes I think i was just a mistake that you let simmer for too long.

These last few months I've been a wreck, everyday an exercise in recovery,despair and heartbreak.
One cannot fully describe the glass breaking every time I see you smile, knowing that the smile wasn't for me.

So I get stuck in a rut and wait this out. Wait for things to fall into their right places in the universe, whilst keeping an eye out for you and me.

Waiting can be crazy. What to do?

Start cooking.

I always look forward to our weekend forays into the grocery, the wet markets. Trying to decide what produce to pick, what fish, what cuts of meat. It was the only thing I have left of us. Together.

So I thought of this blog.

My journal of winning your heart back, one song, one dish, one post at a time.

I miss and love you,

M

P.S.

Oh My Heart - James