Finally joining the high-definition television community, I’ve come to enjoy several channels in HD, including HBO, ESPN, Discovery, and National Geographic. Not that everything in HD is ideal, mind you. (Here, I am thinking of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Joakim Noah, and anything on Cinemax after 10 P.M.) But one of my favorite channels is INHD, particularly on Wednesday nights. It begins with Three Sheets, a brilliant show in which host Zane Lamprey drinks his way around the globe, sampling local libations like pivo in Prague, sake in Japan, and snake bile in Taiwan. A half hour later we get Uncorked with the rotund Billy Merritt, a man who knows all about beer but little of wine, and educates himself (and the viewers) on oenological issues such as decoding a wine list and understanding the distinction between Pouilly-Fuissé and Pouilly-Fumé.
The best program, however, follows at 10 P.M. Called After Hours with Daniel, the hour-long show (currently on hiatus) offers viewers an intimate look inside the world of acclaimed celebrity chef Daniel Boulud. And, really, who wouldn’t want that?
Unless of course you’ve never heard of Daniel Boulud. Raised on a farm near Lyon, France, Daniel entered the restaurant business at age 14. Soon he was training under renowned French chefs like Roger Vergé and Michel Guérard. When he arrived in America, Daniel’s first job was in Washington, cooking for the European Commission (God only knows what he thought of the District’s eating scene in the early 1980s). Eventually the rising chef started his own restaurant in New York and later took the helm at Le Cirque.
Today, Daniel runs a total of five distinguished restaurants in New York, Palm Beach, and Las Vegas (but interestingly none in our nation’s capital–the experience must have scarred him). He’s published numerous cook books, though none with a suggestive title like The Naked Chef or Nigella Bites. By far his most valuable is Letters to a Young Chef, in which Daniel advises aspiring cooks to find a mentor, pay one’s dues, master an established chef’s recipes before experimenting on one’s own, and, naturally, network. Daniel also sells his own food products and kitchenware.
You may wonder what separates Daniel from, say, überchef Emeril Lagasse. For one, the Frenchman has yet to do a sitcom–Emeril’s eponymous show on NBC lasted all of one season. Daniel also doesn’t use annoying catchphrases like “kick it up a notch” or “Bam!” He is, for the most part, a rather mild-mannered gentleman. I say “for the most part” because he is known for the occasional flare-up–not that colorful language in the kitchen should come as a shock. (Unfortunately, Daniel is also in the midst of a legal battle against former employees who are alleging racial discrimination, though he vehemently denies this and is suing the organization that represents the plaintiffs. At the same time, Daniel is known for his generosity toward his loyal workers and sits on the boards of numerous charities.)
In any event, when the camera rolls in After Hours, expect no outbursts whatsoever. Instead, things proceed correctly (though if you look in the eyes of Daniel’s staff, you can see a glint of nervousness). We watch as Daniel patiently prepares meatballs fricadelle-Lyonnaise and a vacherin of licorice and roasted pears while his co-chef for the episode assembles a Smorgasbord de Luxe. Then they serve it to their guests, who include fellow chefs, restaurateurs, actors, food writers, and, on one occasion, Tiki Barber. What follows is a casual but elegant dinner with lively conversation, mostly about food.
In one episode, Gourmet editor Ruth Reichl defends the practice of food criticism, explaining her obligation is to the reader and not the restaurant staff, who may be out of a job because of a negative review. (So tense is the relationship between reviewer and reviewee these days that proprietor Jeffrey Chodorow has banned one New York Times critic from all of his restaurants for panning one of them, Kobe Club.) Reichl then asks why the chefs at the table went into the business in the first place. Celebchef Rocco DiSpirito admits he was motivated, in part, by a desire for fame and fortune. Daniel, on the other hand, says that it was simply that he takes pleasure in feeding other people.
An admirable sentiment. In fact, I would like to be one of those people. So if Monsieur Boulud reads this, he should please know I would be more than happy to take a train to New York, pull up a chair next to Tiki Barber, and eat whatever he serves, even tête de veau (I’d just add ketchup). If not, no worries. I’ll content myself with watching others dine at his table–in high definition, of course. Plus, it’ll beat whatever is on CinemaxHD at that hour. Probably.
VICTORINO MATUS
