Book Review: "Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly" by Anthony Bourdain

"I don't know, you see, how a normal person acts. I don't know how to behave outside my kitchen. I don't know the rules. I'm aware of them, sure, but I don't care to observe them anymore because I haven't had to for so many years. Okay, I can put on a jacket, go out for dinner and a movie, and I can eat with a knife and fork without embarrassing my hosts. But can I really behave? I don't know."

I can't explain why it's taken me this long—nearly 20 years since it was published—to read Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential. Having attended culinary school, I'm fairly obsessed with all things cooking-related, and consider myself to be a bit of a foodie. I was also an enormous Bourdain fan, religiously watching his television appearances and loving his take-no-prisoners philosophy when it came to adventurous eating (not something we shared, per se). Yet only now, in the few months since his shocking suicide, did I sit down to read his nearly 20-year-old look at his journey to executive chef, the knowledge he gained and the trouble he stepped into, time after time.

While certainly it's a little eerie (and a little sad) to read a memoir by someone who subsequently dies, that didn't spoil my enjoyment of this terrific, brash, funny, and at times introspective, book. Bourdain was a natural storyteller—not only did he use food to tell the stories he (and his bosses) wanted to create, but he also loved to talk about the ways the culinary world has changed through the years, how what restaurants serve (and what people eat) has changed, and how the role of the chef has changed with it.

Unlike many memoirs, Bourdain was never afraid to admit his flaws, his transgressions, his pet peeves, all of which served to make him more human and make his story more compelling. I loved everything about this book—from his days of being a cocky young man thinking he knew more (and could do more) than those who had been cooking for years, to his struggles to find the chef's job in a restaurant where he felt he belonged for more than a few weeks. He doesn't skimp on his addictions to cocaine, heroin, and whatever else he could find, and he was candid about how those problems nearly ruined his life and his career.

While there are moments of vulnerability, there are more moments of humor, mischief, and tons of information about the life of a chef (at least in 2000), and why some restaurants and chefs succeed while others fail. The infamous chapter, "From Our Kitchen to Your Table," in which he warns of some restaurant tricks to get rid of older food (although not all of the things he discusses are still true today), is terrific, if not a little bit disturbing. How can you not love a book in which the author says, "Vegetarians, and their Hezbollah-like splinter-faction, the vegans, are a persistent irritant to any chef worth a damn. To me, life without veal stock, pork fat, sausage, organ meat, demi-glace, or even stinky cheese is a life not worth living." (I guess if you're a vegetarian or vegan, you might take umbrage...)

I love Bourdain's writing style, so I'll definitely be picking up some of the other books he wrote. Even if you're not an aspiring chef or a foodie or even a home cook, you may enjoy this simply for the pleasure of hearing his words, which are so vivid you probably can imagine him reading them to you. It's a great book for cooking pros and novices alike.

Sure, reading Kitchen Confidential made me sad as I realized once again the magnitude of Bourdain's loss. But I'm also so happy he left such a rich legacy, in print, on television, and of course, in food.

Book Review: "Harmony" by Carolyn Parkhurst

"Today you may be the mom whose child seems to old to be having a tantrum in the post office (or the one whose child is touching her head to the floor of a Chinese restaurant—right there, she's doing it again), but tomorrow you may be the mom whose child holds forth on the difference between 'time' and 'thyme' in the produce aisle of the grocery store."

Life for Alexandra Hammond and her husband Josh seemed to be going well, living in Washington, DC, raising two young daughters—not bad for a couple who met while in their late teens. But when they start to realize their older daughter Tilly is having issues with her intellectual and emotional development. She's immensely smart and focused, but has trouble with anger management, social interaction, inappropriate language, and risk taking.

The Hammonds try everything they can to help Tilly's development, but even with one-on-one classes and counseling, the issues she has seem to get worse and worse. Their younger daughter Iris vacillates between pride when her sister's intelligence shows through and embarrassment when her behavior in public calls attention to her entire family. And when Tilly is asked to leave yet another school, Alexandra and Josh are at their wits' end, and it's putting a strain on their marriage.

In the midst of the chaos, Alexandra meets Scott Bean, a charismatic child behavior counselor who helps parents realize they're not to blame for their children's issues—the world they live in, the foods they eat, societal pressures, all of that are to blame. His advice helps Alexandra and her family cope with the rough spots in which they find themselves, and as she realizes that perhaps she isn't fully equipped to handle Tilly on her own, Scott presents the Hammonds with a unique opportunity: join him in rural New Hampshire where he is building a "family camp" for families like theirs. The Hammonds can be one of the camp's "core families" and serve as a role model for others.

The Hammonds sell everything they own and move to New Hampshire, where they're forced to do without television, internet, cell phones, junk food, etc., and instead focus on healthy interaction, outdoor activities, and everyone taking personal responsibility for certain tasks. They meet the two other "core families" and at first they feel as if they're flourishing in this new environment, yet the same problems arise, as do resentments about the sacrifices they must make to stay at camp, and Scott's quasi-cult leader-like behavior. But will this provide the breakthrough the Hammonds need to help Tilly? Will they be able to serve as role models for other families struggling with the same issues?

I really enjoyed Harmony for the most part, even if it was somewhat predictable. The book raised some interesting questions for me, particularly how a family deals with one child who requires more love and attention than others, and how the child deals with their sibling. It's also a look at whether bringing families with similar issues together, getting them to focus on structure without outside stimuli, can be an effective method.

The book switches back and forth between narration by Alexandra and Iris, who bring different perspectives to the story and what life is like raising and living with Tilly. But the most fascinating and poignant chapters are those narrated by Tilly, as they provide some creative foreshadowing and show just how astute and sensitive she is. It's not a perfect story by any means, and at times you want to shake the characters for not raising the issues that concern them, but at the same time you can understand why they are so wary to bring strife into what seems like a fragile bubble of salvation.

I have loved Carolyn Parkhurst's work since reading The Dogs of Babel a number of years ago. (Still can't get that one out of my head.) She has a deft touch with personal and familial interaction, and imbues her stories with subtle and overt notes of poignancy. This book is moving, intriguing, slightly frustrating, but very fulfilling, and I'm always glad to get to experience her talent.

Hoaxes don't help...

Yesterday I posted about the absolutely unacceptable way a New York mother responded to a birthday party invitation her son received from a classmate with two gay fathers. Many of you shared my outrage and cynicism.

Well, it turns out cynicism and outrage were appropriate emotions, but for the wrong reason. You see, the two people pictured above made the whole incident up.

DJs Leeana Karlson and Steve Harper, with Long Island's K-98.3, made the whole thing up. Apparently at the behest of K-98.3 management, the two admitted today that the entire story was a lie and issued an apology.

"Dear K-98.3 Listeners," the statement begins, "On Wednesday, we told you the story of Sophia's birthday party, and one parent's objection to the same-sex household of Sophia's parents. We also posted the invitation on our Facebook page, and invited comments from our followers.

"This story was, in fact, totally fictitious, and created by the two of us. This was done without the knowledge of K-98.3 management or ownership.

"We were attempting to spur a healthy discourse on a highly passionate topic, but we made a mistake by misleading our listeners into thinking that this specific situation actually existed. "We are very sorry that we perpetuated this falsehood, even after it was clear that it had taken on a 'life of its own.' We deeply apologize for violating your trust, and we will work hard to regain that trust."

At this point the radio station's management hasn't commented on their plans for the pair. I hope they get fired and never work in radio again.

Let's face it: the type of treatment Karlson and Harper created actually does happen in our country. But when hoaxes like these catch the media's attention, they add fuel to the fire of those who deny that discrimination and prejudice exist, those who say that anti-discrimination laws protecting LGBT people aren't necessary. They're the reason that certain states—Kansas being one recently—can feel empowered enough to introduce a law in the state legislature that says discrimination against LGBT people for religious reasons is okay.

Hoaxes like these don't help. We need to talk about these issues, to make this type of prejudice really stop, but creating a scheme to promote dialogue isn't the answer.

People are cretins...

Don't know if you saw this story in the news earlier in the week, but I've been to busy to post this before.

Apparently the grandmother of Max, a 13-year-old boy with autism, received an anonymous letter at her home in Newcastle, Ontario, Canada. The letter, signed by "One pissed off mother," refers to Max as a neighborhood "nuisance," "retarded," and a "dreadful" noise polluter.

But worse than that, the letter says, "Personally, they should take whatever non retarded [sic] body parts he possesses and donate it to science. What the hell else good is he to anyone!!! Do the right thing and move or euthanize him!! Either way we are ALL better off!!!"

See for yourself:

There are no words for someone like this. If the author of this letter is actually a parent, I fear for this person's children. Canadian police are investigating.

Sometimes people just baffle me.

Introverts, this one's for you...

Those of you who know me well (or remember me), know that I'm fairly outgoing and kinda (okay, quite) talkative. And I'll admit I don't mind being the center of attention every now and...well, a lot.

But that being said, I tend to feel the most extroverted and "on" when I'm surrounded by people with whom I feel comfortable. I'm not good at walking into a room full of people and shaking hands with strangers, no matter how good it would be for me to do professionally. And even when I'm in a room filled with people with whom I should be familiar, I'm still not the type to approach them and would be much happier hanging out in the background...or perhaps behind the scenes.

I know I don't fit your textbook definition of introvert, but despite what you may think, I'm definitely more introverted than extroverted. (Really.) And once I read Buzzfeed's 27 Problems Only Introverts Will Understand, I was pretty convinced, because I can identify with almost every single one of them!

Some of my favorites include:

• When you carry a book to a public place so no one will bug you, but other people take that as a conversation starter.


• When people can’t seem to grasp that being in small groups is where you excel the most.


• When people make you feel weird for wanting to do things by yourself.


• When you’re really excited to go out, but those good feelings don’t last long enough.


• And when you need to be completely alone so you can recharge and get back to being awesome.

Do any of these sound like you? That's absolutely fine. Remember:

Read the whole list at www.buzzfeed.com/erinlarosa/problems-only-introverts-will-understand. And then go someplace quiet and recharge yourself. I don't mind.

Pointing out someone else's wrong doesn't make you less wrong...

Oh, Alec Baldwin.

You know, I thought it was a little troubling when you called your daughter a "thoughtless little pig" a few years ago. When you went crazy because flight attendants asked you to stop playing Words with Friends on an airplane readying for takeoff, I understood, because how many of us haven't wondered why we can't use our Kindle, iPad, or iPod during an entire flight?

When you called a barista at Starbucks an "uppity queen," I thought, well, poor choice of words. But hey, Alec, you've been an outspoken advocate for equality and gay rights, so clearly you didn't mean anything homophobic. Right?

And then recently you were at it again, calling Daily Mail reporter George Stark a "toxic little queen" on Twitter for claiming your wife was Tweeting during James Gandolfini's memorial service. (Your exact Tweets, actually, were "If put my foot up your f--king ass, George Stark, but I'm sure you'd dig it too much," and "I'm gonna find you George Stark, you toxic little queen, and I'm gonna f--k you...up.")

You kind of lost me there, Alec. I don't care if you apologized to GLAAD, and I'm not interested in the fact that most are willing to give you a pass because of your vocal support of the gay community. You probably aren't homophobic, although you clearly have anger issues that manifest themselves in calling gay people (or people you find feminine) "queen."

Words hurt. It's not acceptable to call people names because they don't do what you like, especially when those names have hurtful connotation. We've sadly not moved far enough as a society that these words still don't have ramifications.

But just when I thought we'd reached the end of this debacle, you decided to open your mouth again. After your "toxic little queen" tirade, Anderson Cooper tweeted, "Why does #AlecBaldwin get a pass when he uses gay slurs? If a conservative talked of beating up a "queen" they would be vilified."

On Howard Stern's radio program, you decided you'd get even with Anderson Cooper. So you said, "Anderson Cooper has a job to do. And that job is to try to reinforce his credibility in the gay community after the fact that you couldn't get him out of the closet for 10 years with a canister of tear gas. Now he's the sheriff. Now he's running around writing everybody a ticket!"

I see. So instead of continuing to take responsibility for your own behavior, it's better to say, "Hey, look at this guy! He's worse than I am! I can't be wrong if this guy is wrong!"

That's not how it should work. It's nobody's business to dictate when a person should come out of the closet. And while, sure, Anderson could have made his disclosure much earlier in his career, he's not less of a person because he didn't.

Again, a lot of people in the gay community are willing to give you a pass, and actually take your side over Anderson Cooper's because of his so-called "hypocrisy" in waiting to come out of the closet. But Alec, I'm not one of those people.

It's not that I don't appreciate everything you've done in the past. But at some point, the words "I'm sorry" aren't a get-out-of-jail-free card every time you do something inappropriate. Apologize and then don't do it again. And don't think you're in a position to criticize others for what you think they should do.

Maybe then I won't switch the channel when a Capital One commercial comes on.

Not sticks or stones, but words...

Last night I had the awesome pleasure of watching the Washington Redskins clinch the NFC East division for the first time since 1999, beating their arch rivals, the Dallas Cowboys, in front of a roaring crowd. For a team that was 3-6 just seven weeks ago, to finish with a 10-6 regular season record and be headed to the playoffs just demonstrates the amazing talent and persistence the players have, especially rookie quarterback Robert Griffin III and rookie running back Alfred Morris.

The game was do-or-die—if the Redskins won, they clinched the division title; if they lost, they were out of the playoffs. The fact that it all came down to this, against the Cowboys of all teams, created an electrifying atmosphere I've never experienced before in my lifetime.

As with any sporting event, there were fans of the opposing team, talking their usual smack. When you take a game that means this much to both teams, throw in a decades-long rivalry, and add alcohol, tempers are sure to run a little higher than normal. But the taunting that occurred last night hit a little closer to home and was a little more hurtful than I would have expected.

Seated in our section last night was a Cowboys fan in his early to mid-20s. He had clearly been drinking. And when the Cowboys ultimately scored first, he was quick to taunt those of us around him, many of whom teased him for being a Cowboys fan in the first place. At that point, the sarcastically friendly ribbing turned ugly, as folks around us starting referring to Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo as "Tony Homo" and then proceeded to call the players and the fan in our section "fag," "homo," and use lots of other homophobic comments to describe everyone.

The action started again fairly quickly, so they were distracted, although they started up again once or twice. Having sat with a number of these people many times before over a few years, I've always believed them to be reasonably decent, so this was shocking. And I felt powerless to stop this.

Why is it that we still resort to homophobic taunts when poking fun at people? Is it necessary to adopt a mocking, higher voice, even a lisp, to get some sort of point across? To these people, is being a "faggot" or "homo" the worst thing they can imagine?

Sure, I know there was alcohol involved, but that doesn't excuse the behavior. I couldn't help but be brought back to far too many high school and middle school gym classes and other incidents in my childhood where those words were used. And although I have a much stronger self-belief system than I did then, I don't imagine I'm the only one who was affected by those words in a similar way.

My—perhaps naïve—hope for 2013 is that people don't find it necessary to resort to taunts of "fag" and "homo" when they want to insult people. I hope that professional athletes and comedians don't think the easy way to recover from a taunt, or the quickest way to a laugh, is to use those words.

Don't we owe it to ourselves to be a little more evolved? The world didn't end last week; why revert to outdated prejudice when behaving in the present?