Last night I got the chance to spend an evening with David Lebovitz. I had looked forward to this for a long time. The venue was scheduled to be the 92 Y, that hotbed of wonderful speaker-dom in NY, but was moved to the Nightingale School, nearby. This didn’t matter. I was more than curious to see him and hear what he had to say. I’d say the room was packed with some 400+ “fans”.
I have often wondered what it is really like to go on a book tour. I imagine this as being the combination of two distinct experiences – one being an exhausting string of trips, in his case inside and outside the country, where one has to be “on” and entertaining, and also must strive to connect with your audience about the topic and pique their interest for purposes of selling this book – and to keep them in the loop until the next one comes out. The other is a mix of purposes of exposing and promoting, in the most honest fashion, the devotion and artistic process attached to this way of life and vocation, all the while while getting to visit old haunts and loves and new places where “hungry” cooks live. Hmmmm………..
For me, it is somewhat ironic that one has to “get commercial” and so personal with your passion for purposes of financial survival. In the case of David Lebovitz, last night I came away with the feeling that he may perhaps be, at least somewhat, conflicted about this, and yet, is a person so enamored of his vocation that he is ok with the sharing and expressing part – off the pages, as well.
My impressions:
David Lebovitz is no tv-style extrovert, raring to jump onto the stage and become the focus of the camera and turn the art of cooking and baking into “entertainment”. And yet, he was entertaining, but in oh-such-a-better way. I imagine him to feel that it was nice to be himself in front of this audience, discuss his how and whys, but without the loss of his own integrity and boundaries – something that seems so normal for others to do on certain tv networks.
Of course, much of the discourse centered upon David’s transition in life from his American roots to those of a resident of Paris. For someone like me, this, of course, is the stuff of unfulfilled dreamy-dreams. It’s kind of like reading On Rue Tatin and imagining myself as having that chance. Yes, one devotee of the Parisian way named David, fire kindled – at least in part, by another major (Major)-league devotee named Alice, gets the chance to go abroad and, yes, cook and bake, right there in the cradle of classical cuisine. Do I need to say that this is enough to make me swoon? While here, in suburban NJ, I can work in my own kitchen where I can stack as many pots and pans as I want, have outlets galore and two ovens, I covet (is that a strong-enough word?) the chance to work in a tiny kitchen with perhaps one window or none, one copper pan and with his reflective “wait one year to decide to buy a mixer” point-of-view. This is the stuff of storybook enchantment and romantic haze, for me.
There were a number of very refreshing comments from David which coalesced around his experience of a long-term “American in Paris”. While at first I hesitated to use that overused cliché, it does indeed seem fitting, in a most suitable way, does it not? First, he is uncannily frank (pun intended) about the French people and the ways in which they do things – some of which add to the experience and some of which detract. He is humorous about this.
Perhaps most telling was his comment that the French seem to be lost, perhaps happily, in the process of doing something rather than fixated upon the outcome. He describes Americans as always striving, a word for which a French translation does not exist, to improve a recipe and, well, just about everything. The French, he says, are more involved with the getting-there part. In the kitchen, this is surely relevant – as, for any cook of substantive and meaningful creativity, the process would include, not the somewhat antiseptic reading of the recipe and perfect execution of such, but the mood as one’s feet hit the floor in the morning – the impulses and urges that drive the day – the visits to the markets(but not the supermarkets), the surveying of the offerings, the conversing with the vendors, purveyors and growers, the preparations and consideration of options and bringing forth of flavors, textures and experiences, and then, the “voilå”. Like with so many very personal creative processes, the “voilå” part, can seem to be somewhat of a letdown after all the build-up parts. The struggle, or perhaps a better term would be that uncanny, perhaps undefinable process, (a really good word for which fails me), “to create” – reading in all the external stimuli of the moment(s), was the fun part, so he seems to say. I would heartily agree.
He discusses questions he gets around “is it ok to”s – like substituting almonds for another tree nut – and the “is this ok to do with that” type issues. Accepting and embracing the process of experimentation and evolution around a recipe is key to connecting to one’s own palate and sensory-born reflexes, he seems to impart. He seems to ensure that no single recipe ever came from a static environment – and how could this be more true?
Also, he finds it curious and somewhat comedic that people wonder why French people actually indulge in different cuisines – like Mexican or Tagines. Commenting that France is the number two consumer in the world of Pizza, and referencing that the south used to be part of Italy after all, he tried to impart that yes, the French are interested in other cuisines just like we in America eat Asian, Mexican, African, and scores of other cuisines. It seems important to him to portray the French as not static in that way – that yes, the creators and often, haughtily-so, of classical cuisine are indeed an adaptable and flexible group of people, influenced and evolvable after all. It is fun to think of France as a country of both extreme attachment to tradition and also of allowing one’s palate and voices to evolve and explore.
Perhaps my favorite comment of his was concerning what he loves best to do in Paris – visit bakeries. Concerning this, he was purposeful in saying that he wasn’t referring to the Ladurees and Pierre Hermés of the world, but those small, independent bakeries, off the beaten paths of Paris, where perhaps the neighborhood baker rises in the middle of the night and goes through his rigors in order to present and serve, in the same primeval ways, his small audience, with the fruits of his/her labor in the setting so dear and provincial that it could just as easily exist hundreds of years ago. This is where people like ME want to go – back to the lost art of baking in a small shop – where growing into a multi-national production company in the presence of freezers, warehousing, distributing, marketing, shelf-lifing, and inventory management all don’t figure into the process. He mentions in particular Blé Sucre.
http://20littlecities.com/where-to-eat/ble-sucre-a-must-try-pastry-shop-in-paris/
In addition to this, the comments which resonated with me the most were his reflections on what is indeed interesting to him about reading in the food genré. Richard Olney comes into the conversation often. Ahhhhh, yes,and how could he not? He says, somewhat emphatically, that it is not about the recipe(s). It is about the stories around the recipes that matter to him – and hence the subtitle of his book – My Paris Kitchen – Recipes and Stories. For, the stories are the part that set the reference points, that make it all interesting and thereby involve you in the process of the cook and the baker. What’s really interesting is to know about the story – those sensory things – the inspirational parts, that drew you into the process, and led you and motivated you to “do” what follows, the recipe part.
There is no doubt that David Lebovitz is an intimate and sensitive man, concerned with his artistic and creative endeavors, in love with the lure of it all. What else possesses one to move to Paris after 13 years with Alice Waters at Chez Panisse? Perhaps Alice is, among many other potent qualities, infectious – transferring those very vibes that drove her through her discovery to a height of great passion and determination herself, to others of similar kitchen-DNA. He describes her as continuing to be in love with washing the lettuces and directing her staffs to buy all those berries regardless of cost. Yes, I get this. A mental picture immediately sets in me. He discusses the Chez Panisse Almond Tart (I assume he is talking about Lindsey Shere’s “Lindsey’s Almond Tart” – page 205 of Chez Panisse Desserts) and how he learned to make this and get it to caramelize perfectly. This is the only dessert that he mentions all night – except when discussing his love for making ice cream. Again, the immediate mental image of him “working” the tart – there in the kitchen, eyes, hands and mind fixated there upon this one simple creation……. He goes on to describe the Chez Panisse books as among his favorites, when asked what books he most values.
And so, this is what delights me so about these opportunities – to engage in my little life of trying to connect, on any level I can, to certain people I can sense a sharing with, of these tiny little but oh-so-powerful delights of life – a great bowl of lettuces or berries and, his memory of this in Alice’s kitchen. And, that urge and certainty to procure and celebrate those simple items, when they are of such perfection and regardless of cost – because they simply are, and because this is indeed what it all about – to create and present at the pinnacle – and where the sense of the being rational about it is put aside. This is what I love about these people – it is where passion wins out over reason. It is where the needle gets moved forward.
What’s next for you, he was asked toward the end? To write a book about something he knows nothing about the next time. He discusses “the learning” about something brand new and how this interests him. Again, there is a lure. Always curious always fascinated always searching and experiencing.
Class Act, period.
And, this is what I love……..