I feel like Cinderella today. You see, this is my last post (technically it should have been on the 31st—you know, last decade) and I must hurry before my writing space turns into a pumpkin, and the keys on my board into slippery seeds. Regrettably, with these final lines, “Food for Thought” will no longer be on the Barnes & Noble menu.
Yesterday, we took our dog Lucky to play frisbee in the park by the river. We always go there, because for some reason almost no one else ever does, and he can run around off-leash doing his thing. It was great fun to see him frolicking in the soft clean snow, and leaping in the air to catch the day-glo toy. There was no wind at all, the sun was shining and although we could see the Manhattan skyline directly across the water, it almost felt as if we were alone in the country, peaceful and quiet like that. In the middle of the park was a giant tree that had been knocked on its side, its roots snapped off and sticking out like a handful of split ends. That tree was, or rather had been, at least 20 feet tall, and easily 70 years old, and somehow despite its size had been felled by the storm this past week—perhaps by nothing more than the weight of the snow. Seeing something like that, it’s hard not to be reminded of the fragility of life and endings that come before they should, especially on the first day of a new decade.
I’m sorry to be sharing such hackneyed thoughts with you in my very last post, though of course they were very meaningful to me, but they tie back to the book I just finished reading. It was a review copy of
life, on the line: A Chef’s Story of Chasing Greatness, Facing Death, and Redefining the Way We Eat by Grant Achatz and Nick Kokonus, the founders of Alinea restaurant, and though it doesn’t come out until March, I urge you to pick it up in the spring. There are many extraordinary things about Achatz and his innovative world-class restaurant, not least of which is his personal story. In 2007, by virtue of great talent, a keen imagination and very, very hard work, he was at the helm of his own fine dining establishment, named the best restaurant in America (and currently ranked 7th in the world), and at age 34, able to say he had uncompromisingly made his dreams come true. Then, after several missed diagnoses, he discovered that the painful swelling in his mouth was stage IV cancer of the tongue. There is no stage IV cancer--it was either cut out his tongue or die in 6 months, and while Achatz was preparing for death, his partner Kokonus refused to accept that ultimatum, and sought out alternative treatments. Achatz finally underwent a punishing course of chemo and radiation without missing more than a handful of days at the restaurant, relying on his memory and a dedicated staff of chefs who had come to know the exact nature of his palate, creating ever more creative and intricate dishes, pushing more boundaries. Three years later, he is still cancer free.
I am reluctant to wax poetic about the nature of Achatz’s lyrical and presumably incredible tasting food because, sadly, due to my poor planning I was unable to secure a reservation the one time I was in Chicago the past few years. I can tell you this, however: Based on the hours I’ve spent studying the gorgeous (and very reasonably priced)
Alinea, reading about Achatz and his approach to cooking, he has changed the way I think about food, and the powerful role that memory and association—through all the senses—can play in dining as a creative experience, one that draws the diner in as an active participant in an act that is both public and deeply, transportatively, personal.
I’ve truely enjoyed writing these posts over the last year, and have been honored to work alongside my gracious, witty, and talented co-blogger Amy Zavatto, who in my opinion has brought some of her own poetry and magic to our shared corner of the ethernet. Who knows? We may team up again, if someone else will have us, but till then my husband and I are working on a blog of our own—springtoothharrow.com—which should be up and running in the coming weeks. It’s a recipe driven site, with simple, delicious meals that I hope will become family staples, but will also contain some book reviews as well as stories and other amusements. Please do stop by to share some food and some thoughts.
Till then, all the best in the coming year
Carolyn
Although Carolyn Grifel has been cooking, baking, and devouring cookbooks since she was old enough to read, it took her four decades to finally devote herself to professional cooking. She received a degree from The French Culinary Institute in 2009, while working at Epicurious.com. Since graduating she’s been a chef for Sweet Deliverance, as well as the executive chef at the historic TA Ranch in Buffalo, Wyoming. She’s currently a private chef for a family of four in NYC, and the enchanted mother of a 10-year-old named Stella.
