THE MAN WHO CHANGED THE WAY WE EAT: Craig Claiborne and the American Food Renaissance

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Washington Post book reviewers

Jun 15, 2012 ARCHIVES  |  Entertainment  |  COLUMNS

Thomas McNamee
Free Press
ISBN 978-1439191507
339 pages
$27

Reviewed by Phyllis Richman

Craig Claiborne established his taste for the impeccable in 1961 when, four years after becoming the New York Times food editor, he published "The New York Times Cook Book." The recipes commenced with caviar and foie gras, then moved on to lobster en Bellevue parisienne with aspic-coated medallions.

In contrast, Claiborne's biography, "The Man Who Changed the Way We Eat," by Thomas McNamee, is a big juicy dish bubbling with scandals and rivalries, thickened with oft-told secrets, chock full of random bits as if a boxful of mementos had been upended into the stew.

Dig in, and it is likely to persuade you that this Clark Kent of a food editor really did exert superpowers on the cultural life of 20th-century America. There was no such thing as a restaurant critic in the late 1950s, when Claiborne won his long campaign to be hired by the Times, says McNamee. That may be arguable, but there is no doubt that Claiborne brought a new level of professionalism to critiques. He also introduced the techniques and ingredients of the outside world, particularly France, to the American home cook.

You thought Julia Child did that? Yes, but Claiborne was the one who brought her nationwide attention - a generous act in the cutthroat cookbook world, since her first cookbook was an immediate competitor to his.

A Mississippi boy whose mother ran a boarding house, Claiborne thoroughly prepared for the job that he coveted. After earning a journalism degree, he attended the world's foremost hotel school in Lausanne, Switzerland, for training in the front-of-the-house as well as the kitchen. Few of the chefs he wrote about were so well trained. He also soon established a close working relationship with Pierre Franey, one of the most respected of New York's French chefs. Claiborne's recipes were routinely developed in tandem, Franey doing the cooking and Claiborne the documenting and transcribing, his typewriter on the worktable.

Timing was on Claiborne's side. He joined the newspaper in time for it for to launch cross-country distribution. Food was also emerging as a hot topic across the country. By 1980 some surveys showed that dining out had overtaken television-watching as a favorite leisure time activity.

Remember the Cajun craze and how it almost wiped out the redfish population? It was Claiborne who introduced Paul Prudhomme to New York and therefore to the cooks of America. He made idols of Paul Bocuse, Jacques Pepin, Alain Ducasse. He interpreted France's nouvelle cuisine movement for Americans, then the New American Cooking for the rest of the world. He went on to produce two dozen books and revised editions.

Claiborne's authoritative restaurant reviews served as templates for a generation of critics, but no less did he set new standards for home cooks. Until Claiborne came along, fine dining - food embedded in money, prestige and power - had always been men's bailiwick, while home cooking was women's backwater. Claiborne blurred the lines. He championed French sensibility, rare ingredients and professional techniques for food prepared at home. The Times eventually transformed its womens pages into a Living section, and readers upgraded their kitchens to include Cuisinarts and KitchenAids. Sour cream took a back seat to creme fraiche, iceberg lettuce to radicchio. Claiborne also unearthed world-class talent in home kitchens, coaxing Marcella Hazan, Madhur Jaffrey, Diana Kennedy into the limelight.

He became the official gateway to culinary fame. I watched it from a box seat. I wrote about Alain Ducasse in The Washington Post. Claiborne soon did the same, and Ducasse rocketed to stardom. But did Claiborne's power make him happy? Of course not.

However mild-mannered and conventional Claiborne appeared, his bottomless insecurity led him to seek ever more attention. His drinking was beyond measuring. His 1982 autobiography, "A Feast Made for Laughter," went far afield of great meals and noteworthy rivalries to his relationship with his lonely father after his mother disappeared. Claiborne claimed to have sexually explored his sleeping father night after night, though it would have seemed more a confession and less a boast if he'd resisted such language as "the throttle of his lust" and "warm waves of ecstasy."

Nevertheless, the book was launched with a typically Claiborne extravaganza on his 62nd birthday and the 25th anniversary of his being hired by the Times. The grounds of his East Hampton house were crowded with 400 guests (200 of them invited), who feasted on contributions from three dozen of the country's great chefs. It was a party to be surpassed only by his 70th birthday, a three-day tribute by European and American star chefs highlighted by a banquet at Alain Ducasse's Le Louis XV in Monte Carlo, awash in truffles, lobsters, clams, octopus, spit-roasted lambs, wild strawberries, champagnes and imperials (eight bottles each) of sauternes.

Over the next decade Claiborne paid for his feast of a life with heart surgery, strokes, alcoholic withdrawal, a misery of hospitalization. This cultural icon of the 20th century died as soon as the 21st arrived.

He did, indeed, leave the food world changed. By the time Claiborne was eased out of the Times (having threatened to leave and actually done so several times earlier), men were frequently filling food editor desks, and women were as likely as men to be restaurant critics. Arugula was found in brand-name packages of salad greens. French chefs were opening American restaurants.

Claiborne had shaken things up. In fact, he seemed driven to shake things up. He liked being a moving target. "I don't eat seafood," he insisted to me at lunch one day. Huh? What about all those lobsters and clambakes and truffled scallops you taught housewives to enjoy?

That was the day Claiborne told me the story of meeting the love of his life. The two were strolling past each other in Manhattan when they locked eyes, and it was love at first sight. The man was married, with six children, and living in Florida. Yet in Claiborne style, the two had trysts over the next two decades in choice hotels throughout the world and dined exquisitely until age and illness parted them. Claiborne left his lover his entire estate. Dying nearly a decade later, his lover left behind no acknowledgment of their even having met.

It's a dramatic encounter as related by McNamee, whose disparate earlier books have focused on the chef Alice Waters and grizzly bears. For me Claiborne embellished it beyond credibility with the wife and, I think, a child being present when the two men met. Lovestruck, they dashed off through the nearest door into a lobby, with the stranger declaring he'd never before been drawn to another man,.

I like McNamee's version better. And I like his book.

Phyllis Richman was longtime restaurant critic and food editor of The Washington Post, and is the author of three food mysteries.

Copyright 2012 Washington Post Writers Group
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Review-a-Day for Thu, Sep 29: Poisoned: The True Story of the Deadly E. Coli Outbreak That Changed the Way Americans Eat

by Jeff Benedict A review by Lynne Terry

A healthy 6-year-old girl dies five days after staying home from school with a stomach ache. Her doctors are mystified, her parents devastated. Soon clusters of kids across the West turn up in emergency rooms with similar symptoms: fever, cramping, bloody diarrhea. In the end, hundreds fall ill and three more die.

Sound like script material for a Hollywood movie? Maybe, but it really happened and is recounted by Jeff Benedict in his book Poisoned: The True Story of the Deadly E. Coli Outbreak That Changed the Way Americans Eat.

Today, after successive outbreaks involving everything from sprouts in Germany to strawberries in Oregon, E. coli is a household term. But nearly two decades ago, only a few scientists knew much about the virulent strain -- E. coli O157:H7 -- that contaminated the Jack in the Box burgers in 1993.

The outbreak spurred tougher food safety regulations, changed the fast-food industry and thrust a Seattle attorney into the limelight as a food safety specialist. It's important stuff but could make for tedious reading, clogged with medical and legal terms. Instead, Benedict spins the tale as a thriller with a rich cast of characters and one key victim: Brianne Kiner, a 9-year-old who comes within a whisper of death but then miraculously survives, becoming a poster child for the ravages of E. coli poisoning.

Kiner's case is championed by Bill Marler, a bright and bold young lawyer in Seattle with a fire in his belly but also a hearth in his heart. The case of a lifetime, Marler turns it into a career. He gives up a secure position in a well-known law firm to join another that is steeped in debt. The historic Jack in the Box settlements, which Marler wrangles, hoist his firm solidly into the black and allow him to create his own firm specializing in food poisoning cases.

Benedict's fascination with the legal process, which provides the spine of the story, isn't surprising. He's a lawyer-turned-writer. But he's also attuned to subtlety in humanity, casting the would-be villains in a sympathetic light. Jack in the Box's president, Robert Nugent, is horrified when he discovers his burgers are poisoning children. His vice president of quality assurance, Ken Dunkley, dropped the ball on food safety but out of oversight, not greed. Washington state had raised the required cooking temperature for hamburger meat to 155 degrees Fahrenheit to kill bacteria, but Jack in the Box was still following the federal standard of 140 degrees, as were most fast-food outlets.

Although much more is known about food safety now than in 1993, the book speaks to our times. Earlier this month, the U.S. Department of Agriculture announced that six more strains of E. coli will be banned from ground beef. That move follows pressure from Marler and represents a step forward in the fight for safe food, which is what Poisoned is all about.

The Oregonian is the online source for comprehensive coverage of the Northwest literary scene. Its daily books report includes news, reviews, and poetry, as well as essays and opinions from local authors.

Plus: The paper's award-winning books section, published on Sundays, strips the buzz from national bestsellers and directs readers to little-known regional gems in a concise package.

New subscribers can receive four weeks of home delivery free as part of a trial offer.

View the original article here

Review-a-Day for Thu, Sep 29: Poisoned: The True Story of the Deadly E. Coli Outbreak That Changed the Way Americans Eat

by Jeff Benedict A review by Lynne Terry

A healthy 6-year-old girl dies five days after staying home from school with a stomach ache. Her doctors are mystified, her parents devastated. Soon clusters of kids across the West turn up in emergency rooms with similar symptoms: fever, cramping, bloody diarrhea. In the end, hundreds fall ill and three more die.

Sound like script material for a Hollywood movie? Maybe, but it really happened and is recounted by Jeff Benedict in his book Poisoned: The True Story of the Deadly E. Coli Outbreak That Changed the Way Americans Eat.

Today, after successive outbreaks involving everything from sprouts in Germany to strawberries in Oregon, E. coli is a household term. But nearly two decades ago, only a few scientists knew much about the virulent strain -- E. coli O157:H7 -- that contaminated the Jack in the Box burgers in 1993.

The outbreak spurred tougher food safety regulations, changed the fast-food industry and thrust a Seattle attorney into the limelight as a food safety specialist. It's important stuff but could make for tedious reading, clogged with medical and legal terms. Instead, Benedict spins the tale as a thriller with a rich cast of characters and one key victim: Brianne Kiner, a 9-year-old who comes within a whisper of death but then miraculously survives, becoming a poster child for the ravages of E. coli poisoning.

Kiner's case is championed by Bill Marler, a bright and bold young lawyer in Seattle with a fire in his belly but also a hearth in his heart. The case of a lifetime, Marler turns it into a career. He gives up a secure position in a well-known law firm to join another that is steeped in debt. The historic Jack in the Box settlements, which Marler wrangles, hoist his firm solidly into the black and allow him to create his own firm specializing in food poisoning cases.

Benedict's fascination with the legal process, which provides the spine of the story, isn't surprising. He's a lawyer-turned-writer. But he's also attuned to subtlety in humanity, casting the would-be villains in a sympathetic light. Jack in the Box's president, Robert Nugent, is horrified when he discovers his burgers are poisoning children. His vice president of quality assurance, Ken Dunkley, dropped the ball on food safety but out of oversight, not greed. Washington state had raised the required cooking temperature for hamburger meat to 155 degrees Fahrenheit to kill bacteria, but Jack in the Box was still following the federal standard of 140 degrees, as were most fast-food outlets.

Although much more is known about food safety now than in 1993, the book speaks to our times. Earlier this month, the U.S. Department of Agriculture announced that six more strains of E. coli will be banned from ground beef. That move follows pressure from Marler and represents a step forward in the fight for safe food, which is what Poisoned is all about.

The Oregonian is the online source for comprehensive coverage of the Northwest literary scene. Its daily books report includes news, reviews, and poetry, as well as essays and opinions from local authors.

Plus: The paper's award-winning books section, published on Sundays, strips the buzz from national bestsellers and directs readers to little-known regional gems in a concise package.

New subscribers can receive four weeks of home delivery free as part of a trial offer.

View the original article here

Charlaine Harris riffs on classics that changed her life

By Bob Minzesheimer, USA TODAY

Put most authors in front of 1,000 booksellers, librarians and other book professionals, and they're likely to talk about their latest book. Not Charlaine Harris, whose vampire series narrated by the telepathic Sookie Stackhouse has become a fixture on USA TODAY's list and inspired HBO's True Blood. (The 11th book, Dead Reckoning, is No. 10 on USA TODAY's Best-Selling Books list.)

Last week at BookExpo America, the annual trade convention in New York, Harris used her coveted spot on a panel that included Diane Keaton and Jeffrey Eugenides (who discussed their new books) to tout three books that influenced her as a child: Edgar Allan Poe's Collected Stories ("never read Poe at night"), Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre ("a heroine who was plain, but never too plain in the movies") and Alexandre Dumas' Three Musketeers ("unlike any of the Hollywood versions").

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BRINGING ADAM HOME: The Abduction That Changed America

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Washington Post book reviewers

May 27, 2011 ARCHIVES  |  Entertainment  |  COLUMNS

Les Standiford with Detective Sergeant Joe Matthews
Ecco
ISBN 978-0061983900
291 pages
$24.99

Reviewed by Del Quentin Wilber

It seems like eons ago, but there was a time when parents thought little of permitting their children to wander shopping malls by themselves or to visit playgrounds without adult supervision. That innocence has ended, of course, and its demise can be partially traced to a humid day in August 1981, when authorities discovered the severed head of 6-year-old Adam Walsh in a Florida drainage canal.

The abduction of Adam from a Sears store in Hollywood, Fla. -- where his mother had left him at a video game console while she shopped for a lamp -- and his gruesome slaying generated national headlines. In "Bringing Adam Home," novelist Les Standiford and former Miami Beach police detective Joe Matthews combine forces to provide the definitive account of Adam's death, a crime that they argue so badly shocked the country that it "seemed to mark the end of America's innocence."

The killing was certainly a catalyst for reforms in how authorities track missing children, and it inspired Adam's father, John Walsh, to become the country's leading private crime fighter; his television show, the recently canceled "America's Most Wanted," has helped authorities solve dozens of unsolved crimes and capture hundreds of fugitives.

At its heart, this well-written and well-told book isn't so much an account of discovering the truth behind one of the nation's most notorious slayings as an autopsy of a botched criminal investigation that identified a solid suspect but soon sputtered and took wrong turns for more two decades. The turning point came in 2006, when the Walshes approached Matthews, a retired detective who was also a consultant on "America's Most Wanted," and asked him to try to solve their son's slaying.

Matthews began digging through files and re-interviewing witnesses. The detective was shocked by the sloppy investigative work of the Hollywood Police Department, which handled the case. He learned that as early as October 1983 investigators had developed a solid suspect, Ottis Toole, a troubled drifter who had killed before. Not only that, Toole confessed to having killed Adam to almost anybody who would listen. At one point, the Hollywood Police Department even announced that he was their prime suspect. But the case soon unraveled when he recanted his admissions, leading a Hollywood detective to question the man's guilt. The result: Over the years, tips were not followed up, documents never made it into the case file, and evidence vanished. (Toole, a convicted serial killer and arsonist, died in prison at the age of 49 in 1996.)

Though much of the evidence pointing to Toole's guilt resided in case files, it took Matthews' critical eye to piece it together. The former detective also discovered new witnesses who helped him pin the killing to Toole, and by 2008 his work had paid off -- Hollywood authorities announced that Toole was their man and officially closed the case, helping to bring a modicum of closure to the Walshes.

"Bringing Adam Home" has elements of a thriller, but it focuses so extensively on two unsympathetic characters -- the lead detective, portrayed as a bumbling brute, and Toole, the crazed killer -- that it can be depressing. The narrative of Matthews' detective work does not really get started until more than two thirds of the way into the book, and the authors also found it necessary to recount -- often in great detail -- Toole's various confessions to the killing, making tough reading for any parent.

Readers willing to confront the horrifying nature of this crime will come away, however, with a solid understanding of why it took so long to solve and where the investigation went terribly astray. They will also come to admire the determination of Matthews and the Walshes for refusing to give up -- even after so much time had passed and our collective innocence had washed away.

Del Quentin Wilber covers the federal courts for The Washington Post and is the author of "Rawhide Down: The Near Assassination of Ronald Reagan." He can be reached at wilberd(at symbol)washpost.com.

Copyright 2011 Washington Post Writers Group
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