I think people lose sight of the fact that chefs should be ultimately in the pleasure business, not in the look-at-me business. - Anthony Bourdain

Too lazy to peel fresh? You don't deserve to eat garlic.

In short, marriage, particularly for a woman, was about as much fun as a lingering illness.

The whole suggestion is predicated on a damnable fucking lie — the BIG lie, actually — one which Richman himself happily helped create and which he works hard, on a daily basis, to keep alive. See … it makes for a better article when you associate the food with a personality. Richman, along with the best and worst of his peers, built up these names, helped make them celebrities by promoting the illusion that they cook — that if you walk into one of dozens of Jean-Georges’s restaurants, he’s somehow back there on the line, personally sweating over your halibut, measuring freshly chopped herbs between thumb and forefinger. Every time someone writes “Mr. Batali is fond of strong, assertive flavors” (however true that might be) or “Jean Georges has a way with herbs” and implies or suggests that it was Mr. Batali or Mr. Vongerichten who actually cooked the dish, it ignores the reality, if not the whole history, of command and control and the creative process in restaurant kitchens. While helpful to chefs, on the one hand, in that the Big Lie builds interest and helps create an identifiable brand, it also denies the truth of what is great about them: that there are plenty of great cooks in this world — but not that many great chefs. The word “chef” means “chief.” A chef is simply a cook who leads other cooks. That quality — leadership, the ability to successfully command, inspire, and delegate work to others — is the very essence of what chefs are about. As Richman knows. But it makes better reading (and easier writing) to first propagate a lie — then, later, react with entirely feigned outrage at the reality.