"I stopped at the mirror. I had not been in a uniform since high school football and I sent myself an ironic lift of the eyebrows, then an uncertain shrug," (p. 1).

"He would then serve them with potatoes that had been fried in clarified butter, along with deep-fried parsley. 'Have you had deep-fried parsley?' he asked. He closed his eyes and said, 'It's a miracle,'" (p. 15).

"The lesson it taught me was that the chef hadn't used the potato as a basis for displaying flashy, flamboyant skills, but had placed his skills as an artist in the service of the potato," (p. 7).

"I know of no more infelicitous name for a standard ingredient or item than brown sauce," (p. 55).

"'We're different,' he said. 'We get there. It's part of what makes us a chef.' I was quiet. 'We like it that way. That's why...