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The Readable Feast: On Thomas McNamee's Alice Waters and Chez Panisse: The Romantic, Impractical, Often Eccentric, Ultimately Brilliant Making of a Food RevolutionMarch 2007 |
By Caitlin Coe
Remember the first time you watched The Wizard of Oz, and you held your breath as the curtain was drawn back to reveal the man behind? That's pretty much how I feel about Thomas McNamee's book on Alice Waters and her restaurant Chez Panisse (not the one crooned about by Arlo Guthrie, by the way—trust me, you get a really silly look in some company if you ask that question). We're treated to a behind-the-scenes look at the feats, feasts, and failures of one of the world's greatest (and least likely) chefs, restaurateurs, and food activists, and into Chez Panisse: one of those restaurants that is on all of the Top 10 lists, has won all the big awards, and has a history as colorful as its hometown, Berkeley. I have shared this memoir with friends of mine who barely know how to boil water just because it's such a great story. And despite all of the now-famous and infamous names in the culinary world who got their start doing dishes at Chez Panisse, make no mistake—this is absolutely Alice's restaurant, and this is her story.
It's opening night at Chez Panisse—August 28, 1971—and under the roof of the modest little bungalow that's about to serve 120 diners is not one person with a whiff of experience in restaurant management, a staff who was hired based on friendship rather than skill-set, and a menu that consists of four items in French: no translations, no substitutions. From that day, Chez Panisse "was Alice's to be operated, populated, decorated, redecorated, reconceived, fussed over, fiddled with, and loved". And despite such inauspicious beginnings, 36 years later the success hasn't waned, a fact due almost solely to Waters's commitment to surrounding herself with those who share her passion for food that highlights simple, fresh, local ingredients and draws people back to the table. I think her culinary philosophy can be well summed up in a quote from one of her favorite French gastronomes, Curnonsky: "fine cooking is when things have the taste of what they are." While this may seem an obvious statement in reference to American cuisine today, it was Waters who was a pioneer of establishing relationships with local farmers, butchers, and dairies to provide diners at Chez Panisse with the best possible ingredients, and bringing in impeccable chefs to do justice to their quality of flavor. If the ingredients for an evening's menu were not perfectly ripe and at the height of their season, the menu changed to feature those that were. This may seem like an extravagant demand from a start-up restaurant, and indeed, Chez Panisse didn't make a dime in profit for decades into its existence, but this was the least important thing for Alice. What drove her to become known as America's first foodie was the complete lack of tolerance for any food that was less than perfect and her love for sharing that food.
As McNamee shares with us, along the way Waters partnered with (in one sense of the word or another) a collection of friends who have left an indelible mark on both the restaurant business and the culinary world as a whole, whether they were waiters, farmers, or financial managers. We're all pretty familiar with the Berkeley scene in the 1970s, right? Yes, well, let's just say the counterculture certainly didn't escape the Chez Panisse staff. As the menus indicate, a food revolution took place, the likes of which Berkeley had never seen before; in addition to the "ordinary" weeknight dinners, guests were treated to such extravagant offerings as Jeremiah Tower's Sauternes dinner (in which each course was accompanied by wines that run from $1,000–$2,000 a bottle today!), Jean-Pierre Moulle's three-week feast "Special Dishes from a Recent Gastronomic Tour of Europe" (among which was the drool-inspiring "chicken baked in a sealed crock, with black truffles under the skin, served with a leek confit"), and the first of many Bastille Day celebrations that featured nine courses based on garlic, including the decadent-sounding "leg of lamb marinated with garlic and wine, stuffed with prosciutto, and served with a sauce with mint, garlic, and wine that's simmered for hours". Granted, that's just a tiny selection, from only a few of the chefs who have reigned in front of the stove during the restaurant's colorful life, but I think you get the idea. And that's just the food—when you read about the great stories going on behind the kitchen, like who was sleeping with whom, who was doing what drugs, and who ended up in an institution, you'll be as surprised as I was that Chez Panisse ever stayed open, let alone climbed the restaurant ranks!
As the success of Chez Panisse grew, so did Waters's horizons. Prior to the birth of her daughter in 1983, Waters's focus on the importance of great local ingredients expanded well beyond the walls of Chez Panisse. She found her calling when it came to her attention that the most readily available food for the majority of the poor population in this country was highly processed "convenience food," despite the fact that simple, fresh food was far more nutritious and less expensive. McNamee shares with us Waters's evolution into a world-respected activist. Waters is the founder of the Edible Schoolyard, a nonprofit organization providing urban public school children with a garden and kitchen classroom. She is also on the advisory board of the Slow Food Movement in the U.S., an organization created as a counter-measure to "fast food" and devoted to the development and availability of unique, local, sustainable food. I have to confess here (rather proudly, actually!) that I am a card-carrying member of the Slow Food Movement and that it has impacted the way that I live and eat. While I get a jones for McDonald's fries just like the next person, I dare you to say honestly that they taste better than a really ripe, fresh-off-the-vine tomato drizzled with a little olive oil and sprinkled with sea salt. Thanks to people like Alice, the option to have both is available.
After the hilarious and poignant stories, coupled with intimately written recipes you'll find throughout the pages, I think what you'll enjoy most about McNamee's memoir is the utter lack of subjective interjection. The intertwined stories of Chez Panisse and Alice Waters are told with a refreshing and honest voice, without being hurtful or pandering. Not an easy task when the subject matter is the history of one of our country's finest eating establishments, and the lovely, petite, soft-spoken, shy, iron-willed, eccentric, will-o-the-wisp woman who grew it from the ground up. But there is a quiet message behind the stories, be they funny, sad, or downright insane, and while I won't give it away here, I guarantee that after reading Alice Waters and Chez Panisse, you'll be a bit more appreciative of the act of sitting around the table, talking with your friends and families, and just enjoying the simple pleasure of good food.
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