The Devil in the Kitchen - book

The Devil in the Kitchen, by Marco Pierre White (Bloomsbury, 2007), is the story of Marco Pierre White, a working-class Englishman, who became the first British chef to win three stars from Michelin, and was also the youngest chef ever to win three stars. His Italian mother died when he was six, so his father, who was a chef, but not a very distinguished one, raised him and his two older brothers. His youngest brother, who was only a few days old at the time, was adopted by his mother’s relatives. Before his mother’s death he had spent some little time in Italy, and although he perceived Italian food was not like what he was accustomed to, he was not really interested in food. A poor student, he dropped out of school before his exams and began working, first helping to deliver milk, and also caddying. At fifteen his father advised him to become a chef, “as people will always need to eat.” Following his father’s advice, he presented himself at the kitchen door of a decent restaurant asking for a position, which he was given. From then on his rise toward greatness was rather meteoric. He quickly absorbed everything he was taught, moved on to better and better restaurants where he learned even more, ultimately owning his own restaurants and winning the coveted Michelin stars.

Although this is a story of great success, it is also a grim tale of sixteen hour days and total dedication, striving constantly for perfection. He drove his assistants almost to the breaking point, insulting them at times, bullying them at times, and at all times insisting only on the very best they could do. He was like a man obsessed with cooking and the kitchen, and one sees just how difficult it is to achieve the stars. To become a chef is to undergo an initiation by fire, given difficult and impossible tasks, teased and bearing up under what he calls “bollockings” from the head chef and his assistants as well. As an apprentice he was the constant butt of jokes and tricks. And when he finally became a seasoned chef, and eventually a head chef, he dished out the same to those he employed. Many of those who trained in his restaurants went on to become very successful and well known chefs on their own, not the least of whom was Mario Batali. As difficult as he must have been, he still had loyal chefs who worked with him for many years. But the description of his being a devil in the kitchen is certainly well-founded. He not only ran roughshod over his assistants, he at times did so even with his customers. He became perhaps the most famous chef in England, certainly one of the best two or three ever.

Of course working long hours six and seven days a week does not leave one much time either for fun or romance. Even so, he spent his spare time chasing “birds,” and having brief affairs. His first two marriages were ill-advised and did not last long, because his wives had to take such a back seat to his restaurant, and did not like being neglected. A bit later he found the right woman, who gave him children and happiness, stuck with him until he finally gave up his stars (I believe he was the first chef to ever do so) and could devote more time to his own life and family.
Reading this book, if you can cope with the English slang and coarse restaurant language, you learn a great deal about the highest-level restaurant business, the glamour, how it is financed, who finances it, the power and magic of the chef, the upper-class clientele, how absolutely nothing is left to chance, and why the food becomes so terrible expensive for all except the truly rich and famous. Even the food he describes is foreign to those of us not fortunate enough to experience it (you have to have your Escoffier handy). You also see what comes with fame, the fawning women, the demands on your time, the foolishness and superficiality of much of it, but most of all the constant pressure to keep your stars once you have them, and the never-ending stress that drives many away from the business.

Marco (from his Italian mother), Pierre (from an eccentric aunt), and White (his father’s name) was an enigma of sorts. Many apparently did not want to believe he was basically just a working-class Britisher. British food has never been considered haut cuisine, and for a British chef to win Michelin stars was unusual, and in the case of three stars, unprecedented (and virtually unbelievable). Of course Marco Pierre was fortunate in that he began in, and worked in, only the finest of restaurants. But there must be more to it than that. I don’t believe his genius in the kitchen was not entirely just learned. He must have been blessed with senses far superior to most, and with an insight and ability to understand combinations that most people would not have conceived. To start at fifteen, become well-known at seventeen, and be a head chef by twenty or thereabouts, cannot be merely the result of training. Marco Pierre is humble enough to admit that most dishes that are created are not entirely original. They are, rather, different chef’s interpretations of them, little additions to them, little tweaks here and there if you will. One of his best known dishes was something he called Pied de Cochon Pierre Kaufman, because he took it from Pierre Kaufman, who had taken it from the great French chef, Charles Barrier (who knows who he took it from). In any case, from the opening of Marco Pierre’s first restaurant, Harveys, he served this dish for years wherever he was, having changed it in subtle ways to make it his. Pied de Cochon is basically a stuffed Pig’s trotter. Although my cooking is about as pedestrian as cooking can be, and as I like pigs feet anyway, inspired by this book, I am going to make Pied de Cochon Marco Pierre. It will be mine. My wife and son will refuse to eat it. Such is life among the masses.