How importa-nt is food for you? I am sure you’d travel a bit for it, like say across the town. Some of you would even kill for it? But would you die for it? Sorry if the question seems too macabre for an introduction, but that is the only way I can think of setting the tone for this book, that I have just put down.
The Perfectionist is the biography of Bernard Loiseau, one of the most celebrated chefs ever in the history of France. His Burgundy restaurant LA Cote d’Or had been awarded with three Michelin stars, the highest accolade in the culinary field. Gastronomes the world over delighted at the chance of dining at his establishment and the shock was of equal reverse magnitude when news of the great chef having shot himself spread through the world.
This book by Rudolph Chelminski, a friend of Loiseau, narrates the life and times of this great culinary maestro, his rise and sudden subsequent fall. It also, at a different level, shows the fragile world of food criticism, the pressure of performance in the kitchens of the world, where one finicky reviewer, one badly taken soup or salad, can pull the rug from the under the feet of any great food creator and reduce him to little more than a ‘has been’.
Hard to imagine that such could happen in a country where “The Chef and Not The Guest is Always Right”, even more so to a chef who had consistently scaled and surpassed every culinary achievement that had existed, or presented as nothing but a mere mild challenge to him. He rarely took an off and was obsessed with his restaurant. His otherwise shy character was discarded when promoting his outlet and his cuisine. He had the world’s who’s who lining up for a table and for the longest time, it was as if nothing else existed save for the clients, the kitchen, and the much coveted three Michelin stars.
Chelminski explores this very side of the chef’s bipolar personality, calm, confident and composed at one end, and yet so insecure, perturbed, and anxious somewhere within. Things were black and white always for him, either great or rubbish. There was no leeway. He spent sleepless nights conjuring ways to keep his creativity peaked and his ‘stars’ safe and secure. His worries were not only a constant suffering for him, but also for other members of the family, upon whom he often relied to share.
His father was a travelling salesman and during his travels, he tried many a table at the auberges he took refuge at for the night. His connections helped his son land an apprenticeship with the famous chefs, Jean and Pierre Troisgros. But his formation had begun much earlier, in his grandfather’s meat shop.
On the whole, the book manages to cast good light on the tensions and stresses of a kitchen environment in haute cuisine, the stuff of real grit that is often ever-so-softly hidden away from general conversations, dusted aside like dust under a carpet. For someone trying to understand why French food continues to define the pinnacle of culinary excellence and dedication in the world, short of enrolling in a kitchen, this book is a good point of start.
The reviewer is a sommelier and author of Wine Wisdom