My Lockdown foodie book has been Hungry by Jeff Gordinier; its subtitle is Eating road-tripping and risking it all with Rene Redzepi the greatest chef in the World. I'm not sure I would have gotten round to it if the loan period had been three weeks. I'm glad I was given the extra time, because it's an interesting saga about how a grown man with two children and a breaking marriage becomes a total groupie for an Albanian/Danish cook . . . and haemorrhages a lot of money to hang with his guru in Mexico, New York, Sydney, Norway and Denmark.
It's a genre in't it? Eat Pray Love was about a rich white woman who found that money can't buy
traditional recipe for spotted dick.
René Redzepi is neat because he is clearly Out There when it come to giving something a Why not? whirl. Forget slavishly following in the footsteps of Escoffier and doing things because it's always been done this way. Previously unexploited molluscs and crustaceans get air-freighted from Norway to be plated with ant confit and trout swim-bladders. The expense is "exclusive" and so the only way you and me are going to get a sniff is to sign up as a scullion. But bring your ladle, because you'll need to fight off a score of hungry wannabe plongeurs who would gladly fill your toque. And Gordinier's book? It's okay, when you get past the self-pity and the eye-watering cost of pushing the foodie envelope.