Last night, the chefs gathered as salt seasoned supplicants at the foothills of the Throne of the Seafood King of New York. First the novices tasted the glories of the Seafood King. Then they were led, blindfolded, into the warm inner mountain, where for centuries the stone has smelled of butter candles and garlic, the Michelin stars glittering on the cavern ceilings. Then they were asked to recreate these dishes for the Master*. This would allow the Master and his Disciples to determine the true level of focus, dedication, and loyalty of the novice. One by one, the dishes came out, and he of the flowing gray locks made no noise, but crinkled his eyes or turned up his nose, single gestures that determined the novice's entire future.
And the lesson for today is: Jamie, why the snarky attititude? You know nobody fucks with Eric Ripert and wins.
So Jamie was decapitated and her head mounted on the temple walls, as a lesson to anyone who might dare to call his food "too simple".
*sidenote: when you google 'monk of highest order", there is a wiki article someone wrote about themselves which is hilarious, not to mention about 9 million forum users arguing amongst themselves.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
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Who wants to fuck the Editors?