Yes, Chef: A Memoir by Marcus Samuelsson

Most of us probably wouldn’t know who Marcus Samuelsson was if it weren’t for his celebrity created on the Food Channel’s Chopped and Bravo’s Top Chef and Top Chef Masters. Yes, he is the youngest chef ever to receive a three-star review in The New York Times (from food critic and author Ruth Reichel), and he has won the cooking equivalent of an Academy Award (the prestigious James Beard Award), but it’s his appearances on television that have made his life of interest to non-foodies.

 

I was initially curious about Samuelsson (pictured) because his ethnicity seemed out of place in the culinary world. Name five famous black chefs. Name five famous chefs from Ethiopia (Samuelsson’s country of origin) or Sweden (his country of upbringing). Name two. Therein lies the intrigue about this interesting character and his very interesting background.

Samuelsson’s story begins in Ethiopia where he, at the age of 3, his mother and older sister, all of them sick with tuberculosis and too poor to afford transportation, walk 75 miles in the desert to a hospital in Addis Ababa. I was immediately struck by the determination and courage it must have taken his mother to do that. I can’t imagine being healthy and walking 75 miles with two healthy children. In fact, Marcus’ mother, 28, died within days of arriving at the hospital, but her children survived because of her sacrifice. Click on Read More Below...

MY FRIENDS

My Friend - Eddie Jean Billings

My memories of Eddie Jean are sweet, rich in texture, and from long ago. I probably haven’t spent 10 minutes with Eddie Jean in the past 30 years, but as is the nature of friendships, time spent together is not the measure of value. Eddie Jean married her first cousin Vernon who was one of my first husband’s best friends. I’d never known anyone who married a cousin, and at the time it seemed peculiar. However, as time flowed, I could only be happy and thankful for that strange union, which brought Eddie Jean into my life.

Eddie Jean and Vernon’s upbringing couldn’t have been much different. Vernon’s dad owned and ran the Judge Roy Bean Museum and Trading Post in the tiny town of Langtry, just about as far from everything as you can imagine, and Eddie Jean was raised in the metropolis of Houston. After returning from Vietnam with a somewhat debilitating injury, Vernon took his young bride to Langtry where they took over the museum and shop for his aging parents. Perched on the lip of the Rio Grande, Langtry is a unique and interesting outpost reminiscent of the isolated forts of long ago. The town was famously named for the legendary Lillie Langtry, mistress to the Duke of Edinburgh (Prince Philip’s grandfather), and a woman with whom Judge Roy Bean was infatuated.

I immediately loved Eddie Jean for her no-nonsense personality and easy laugh. During the 1970’s, my husband and I would drive about 90 miles to Langtry from our ranch outside of Sheffield to hang out with Vernon and Eddie Jean while they catered to the occasional tourist visiting the Judge Roy Bean Museum. Sometimes the four of us would drive the additional 50  miles to Del Rio (home to famous DJ, Wolfman Jack between ’62-’64) to water ski in Lake Amistad. Then at the end of the day we would cross the border into Cuidad Acuna, Mexico, where we would dine on Chicken Portuguese at the famous Ma Crosby’s restaurant, and drink and raise a small amount of hell at the Shangri-La Bar.

West Texas women are notoriously fabulous cooks and Eddie Jean was no exception. I recall the first time I ate Steak Tartare, it was prepared by Eddie Jean. Of course it didn’t have that fancy name. It was called “Hot Hamburger” in the unpretentious style of West Texas. Many a wonderful gal-talk took place while sitting at Eddie Jean’s kitchen table working over one dish or another. The type of talk that forges cast-iron friendships that withstand time and distance. As we picked (shelled) pecans, or baked a cake, or ground steak and jalapenos into hot hamburger, we offloaded our fears, anger and sadness, finding solace and peace in our commonalities.

Unfortunately, as often happens, divorce (mine) separated Eddie Jean and I, and that is a long and complicated story for another time, but I am forever grateful for the friendship, love and wisdom she shared with me during my young married life. Eddie Jean Billings is one of those Very Smart Gals you never forget, and never stop loving.

Creole Belle by James Lee Burke

There are several reasons I like James Lee Burke's books, and a few reasons why I don't.  First the good. He’s one of a handfull of authors my husband and I agree on listening to while on road trips. Will Patterson narrates all of Burke's books and he is purely splendid.

Also, Burke's writing, when he stops creating characters and circuitous plots and just writes, can be excellent. Every now and then he slips into a soliloquy describing the Louisiana swamp that takes my breath away.  About every third or fourth novel is truly scintillating (e.g., Tin Roof Blowdown).  And lastly, one of Burke's main characters, Detective Clete Purcell, is one of the best-drawn characters I’ve ever read.

Now the bad. Burke (pictured) is pretty much one of those writers who puts out a book so often that you know  the theme and set of bad guys are going to be only slightly different. In Creole Belle he goes after BP (British Petroleum) with the vitriol they deserve. But at some point his attacks began to sound sermon-y.

And then there was the huge cast of characters in Creole Belle, which became so lengthy that we grew weary trying to keep them straight. Unfortunately, by the time the hubby and I finished the audio book, we were almost  indifferent. It just went on too long. 

Burke’s main character, Dave Robicheaux, is too ponderous and philosophical, and he and Clete seem to never learn from their past mistakes, so it is hard to care about them. They should have both been dead several books ago.

Perhaps it is time for Burke to retire Robicheaux and Purcell and just write. Creole Belle is not a bad book, it just isn’t great, and why bother with anything less than great.