Dirt: Adventures in Lyon as a Chef in Training, Father, and Sleuth Looking for the Secret of French Cooking

by Bill Buford

Alternate cover edition can be found here

Bill Buford turns his inimitable attention from Italian cuisine to the food of France. Baffled by the language, but convinced that he can master the art of French cooking--or at least get to the bottom of why it is so revered-- he begins what becomes a five-year odyssey by shadowing the esteemed French chef Michel Richard, in Washington, D.C. But when Buford (quickly) realizes that a stage in France is necessary, he goes--this time with his wife and three-year-old twin sons in tow--to Lyon, the gastronomic capital of France. Studying at L'Institut Bocuse, cooking at the storied, Michelin-starred La Mère Brazier, enduring the endless hours and exacting rigeur of the kitchen, Buford becomes a man obsessed--with proving himself on the line, proving that he is worthy of the gastronomic secrets he's learning, proving that French cooking actually derives from (mon dieu!) the Italian.

Genres: Nonfiction, Food, Memoir, France, Cooking, Travel, Biography

382 pages, Kindle Edition

First published May 5, 2020

About the author

William Holmes Buford is an American author and journalist. He is the author of the books Among the Thugs and Heat: An Amateur's Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany. Buford was previously the fiction editor for The New Yorker, where he is still on staff. For sixteen years, he was the editor of Granta, which he relaunched in 1979. He is also credited with coining the term "dirty realism".

Reviews

[Diane S ☔ · Rating 4 out of 5]

I love foodie books. For some reason I find them comforting. I love to cook, but like my food to look and taste what it actually is, so I'm not a big experimentor. Not adventurous in my food choices. it is interesting for me read about those who are, those so passionate about cooking that they willingly work 12-16 hour days for temptous and irracible chefs. So definitely not me.

In this book Buford is both the story and the one reporting on the story. Told that only in France can he actually learn to cook French, he uproots his family, wife and a young set on twin boys and sets out for Lyons. I'd like to add that I consider his wife both a saint and a miracle worker. So, we as readers are treated to the history of Lyons, their food and we meet some very different chefs. It is humorous, love the authors sometime ps self deprecating asides, and find out how a family survives in a foreign country. Quirks and all. This was fun, interesting and a joy to read.

ARC from Edelweiss.

[Nigel · Rating 3 out of 5]

In brief - guess I'll make this 3 star but only just. At times very interesting and at times definitely not...

While not able to speak French, Bill Buford decides he wants to learn the art of French cooking in France and preferably at what may be seen as the centre of it - Lyon. The book is the story of his journey. Initially he manages to convince a French chef working in New York to give him an opportunity. Fairly quickly it becomes apparently that this will not satisfy Bill. However, as someone who is primarily an author and journalist, can he really convince professional chefs in France to give him a chance? He moves with his wife and two young children to France.

The start of this book is really very foodie indeed. Indeed one of my first comments is that he is not quite as inexperienced as I had originally thought. He has already spent time in Italy learning to cook. I found the personal aspects of this part of the book quite interesting. However there was a fair amount of name dropping of famous chefs - I began to feel I might not be the target audience for this book.

After his arrival with his family in France however it improved for me. If anything it became even more about Michelin starred chefs but despite that I became more interested. I also started to learn things. I for one didn't know the variations of the word for "chicken" that exist in French for example. He watches boudin noir being made at a local farm in the traditional way. This will not be to everyone tastes - veggies particularly be wary - interesting nonetheless in the sense of culture and tradition. He persuades his local baker to allow him to work there. I really enjoyed his time with Bob the baker. It illustrates very well just how deeply embedded bread is in the minds of the people of France. After that he manages to get a leading culinary school to allow him into the classes. This brings in discipline and simply doing things properly. There is perfection with omelets and fish. Parts of this book should definitely not be read when you are hungry!!

From here he gets a leading Lyon restaurant to employ him. I found this in parts fascinating and in parts terrible. I am sure many of us are aware of the way people behave in restaurant kitchens however there are graphic illustrations of bad behaviour here. The author himself is guilty of something that I find very annoying - persistent lateness. He continues to turn up late letting down his colleagues - infuriating. I think his wife deserves a medal (& maybe more credit for her part in this story allowing him to work 80 hours a week while she looked after the children). On balance I find the author rather unappealing.

Indeed my comments so far illustrate how I felt during this book. I was interested, infuriated, fascinated and amazed by the silly behaviours. On the plus side there were some wonderful vignettes on life in France, its culture and cuisine. I loved the fascination with bread and flour. I found some of the author's diversions into the history of French cuisine somewhat boring and ended up skipping parts. His throwaway line about the quality of French coffee is simply silly - I have had some excellent coffees in France and I have had some bad ones. To dismiss French coffee in the way he does does him a disservice.

I am still unsure how to actually rate this book at the time of writing this. In part I have no idea who it is actually aimed at. True chefs are unlikely to find it that interesting; us mere mortals will almost certainly be disinterested by parts of it. I don't regret reading it - Bob alone makes it almost worthwhile - however I'm not sure I can recommend it.

Note - I received an advance digital copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a fair review

[Anne Bogel · Rating 4 out of 5]

In his new memoir, foodie, food writer, and former New Yorker fiction editor Buford shares another first-hand account of his time in the kitchen. In a quest to deepen his culinary training, Buford and his wife, wine expert Jessica Green, move to France with their twin three-year-old boys. They intended to stay for six months so Buford could cook, but after settling in Lyon they extended their visit—and stayed for five years. A lush, detailed, and vividly drawn account of esteemed French kitchens, and the culture that makes their grand food possible.

Audiophile alert: I LOVED the audio version Buford narrates himself. He does an excellent job reading his own work.

[Antoinette · Rating 4 out of 5]

I remember my first meal in Lyon as if it were yesterday. My husband and I ate at Brasserie des Brotteaux. We started with oeufs en meurettes (eggs cooked in red wine). So good. My main course was steak tartare, Tuscan style, a specialty of the restaurant. All of the locals were eating it and after talking to a couple at a nearby table, who highly recommended it, I went for it. Raw steak, you say- well it was phenomenal. I loved how the local Lyonnaise couple waited for my reaction. Tres bon! For dessert we shared a divine lemon tart- the best I’ve ever had. Memories of Lyon!

Bill Buford went to Lyon with his family on a quest- he wanted to learn the mysteries of French food. Lyon is known as the gastronomic capital of France and possibly the world- so the perfect location. Being in a French kitchen is akin to torture. You are abused, humiliated and yet there is a profound sense of accomplishment when you master a sauce or a complex dish. I enjoyed following Bill on his adventures in the kitchen. I,especially liked the history he provided of Lyon and the evolution of fine cooking.

Definitely evoked my memories of Lyon and made me hungry for the real French cuisine.

[Lindsay Sullivan · Rating 2 out of 5]

I found the author very arrogant and off-putting. The story-telling was meandering and there were way too many characters that come and go to keep track off (and mostly just mentioned for name-dropping!) I wanted more about his sons and especially his wife- the true heroine of this story!

[Karen · Rating 3 out of 5]

I would have like this better if the author were single, because I kept getting annoyed at how little engagement he seemed to have in raising his young twin sons, instead leaving them with his wife in NYC during the week while he worked at a restaurant in Washington DC; at least when they got to France he'd come home at night and did seem to spend at least a little time with boys. I would love for his wife to write a book about this time in their lives. I was also distracted by wondering how these adventures were funded … was the book advance so large as to allow them to afford to keep a place in NYC while they also paid for a place in France? All that said, the cooking and food parts were interesting; I've experimented with changing the way I crack eggs as a result, and I might very well read other things from this author.

[Olaf Gütte · Rating 4 out of 5]

Zuerst herzlichen Dank an Denis Scheck für diese wunderbare Buchempfehlung.
Der amerikanische Autor Bill Buford reist nach Lyon um als Praktikant in
einer der zahlreichen Sterne-Restaurants zu arbeiten und um die
französische Küche von Grund auf kennenzulernen.
Seine Erlebnisse, sowie seine Streifzüge in die Geschichte der Haute Cuisine,
schildert er humorvoll aber auch dramatisch.

[Liz · Rating 1 out of 5]

Did not finish, author’s tone of voice turned me off.

[Kari · Rating 3 out of 5]

Probably a little too close to home for me to push aside, but I was really pissed at Buford for leaving his wife to deal with young kids on her own for a heck of a lot of the time. That said, I enjoyed this.

[Lisa · Rating 1 out of 5]

I finally had to give up on this book. I couldn’t waste any more time. I’m not sure who this book was written for: perhaps other chefs. His prose is confusing, and this “story” consists mainly of name-dropping, French phrases, animal torture, the history of French cooking, and how mean people are to each other in the kitchen. So sorry I wasted $14.99 on this.

[Chuck · Rating 3 out of 5]

Oddly unpleasant. DIRT is Bill Buford's tale of learning to become a French chef by living and training in Lyon. Buford, a NEW YORKER writer, comes across as entitled in the early chapters, the kind of guy who, when he has a problem with his passport and visa, decides to call the French ambassador (whom he doesn't know). Left in charge of his toddler sons for a weekend while his wife arranges their foreign accommodations, Buford's immediate impulse is to get a babysitter and go off on an excursion. Told a class will cost $3,000 for a couple of weeks, Buford responds simply, "I want it," and he gets it. Late in the book, in an incident when he takes a picture of one of his sons (as he sadly recalls his French friends), Buford just seems insensitive. It's not clear from the tone in these episodes whether or not Buford intends to expose his flaws or thinks they're amusing, charming; mostly, they're just off-putting. Along the way to fulfilling his goal, he does develop friendships, so he's probably not as jerky as he portrays himself, but to a reader he's a mixed bag, at best.

Once he gets a placement in a restaurant, Buford becomes slightly more sympathetic because, in comparison, his colleagues are so sexist, mean-spirited, and abusive. The work atmosphere is poisonous. Buford doesn't fight back, even when a female co-worker is harassed, and he is aware in this case of his complicity. It's not enjoyable reading. But he learns his trade.

The second half of the book is less narrative-driven and more anecdotal. One of Buford's missions is to prove Italian food provided the origins of French cuisine. He doesn't quite get there. It seems likely there was an Italian influence, for sure (along with other influences and a lot of local tradition). However, some of the episodes are entertaining and enlightening, and a few are sad.

The title, DIRT, is a tribute to something fundamental in French cooking, food, and eating. Like the book itself, the title is a little off, a bit unappetizing.

[Erica · Rating 1 out of 5]

Fuck this book. The author is a selfish example of the father in a family of small children getting to pursue his wild and ridiculous dreams thanks to his wife sacrificing herself. “Oh, I have children? That’s okay. I have a wife slave who follows me blindly and probably didn’t expect any help with our twin boys so I could write all these books.” I was horrified when he left his wife all week with twin toddler boys, but then he decided it would be rad to move to another country and leave them all behind. He is a man child who is lucky to have a responsible wife to do all the unappreciated dirty work (oh, we need visas? She’ll figure it out while she’s caring for our kids). The author is so thoughtless—he is impetuous and he’s respected for that because society gives him a free pass to pursue his “genius”. I’d prefer to read his wife’s memoir.

[Susan Peterson · Rating 2 out of 5]

Name-dropping, arrogance, and enough tangents that it is sometimes impossible to remember what the author was talking about in the first place. The book reads like badly edited home movies of his mind.

[Andy · Rating 2 out of 5]

I'm a foodie. I've been to some of the places mentioned in the book and met some of the chefs. I read an excerpt of this book in the New Yorker and though it was beautiful. "Dirt" should have been perfect for me, but it wasn't.

The author writes about assorted weird obsessions more than about anything in the title, and the narrative skims around from one thing to the next without a clear progression of depth despite the duration and intensity of the underlying experience.

-Chef Michel Richard is one of the main characters even though he's not in Lyon. I understand why he was dropped in; because he is fascinating. That just pointed out how a biography of him would likely have been a better book.
-The author narrates the audiobook. His French pronunciation is painful, and this reveals a lot about the likely quality of his immersion experience. It's hard to imagine how he lived in France for years and worked in a bakery but can't say "boulanger" (he keeps saying "boulangère").
-This is mainly a sort of personal memoir as opposed to a book about food or French culture. But the author's personal story is disturbing. Without a goal of becoming a chef, he chooses to work 80 hours a week for months on end in kitchens so that his wife and small children are pretty much invisible.
-His "sleuthing" is I think referring to his trying to prove that French cuisine doesn't really exist because 500 years ago it was introduced from Italy, although it's not clearly proven exactly if, how or when. Whatever. Who cares? And even if you do care about such things, then why not take apart Italian cuisine and say it doesn't really exist and is actually American, given that tomatoes came to Europe from the Americas 500 years ago?
-There is a rich culture in Lyon to talk about and he touches on it with the bouchons and the peasants and the mères, etc. But he seems to be antagonistic to it all the whole time, so the tone is wrong and overall it's just a shame.
-There are so many books about the foibles of "those crazy French" or about French cooking. I don't think this is the one to start with.

Related books to consider:
Paris to the Moon Bringing Up Bébé: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting A Year in Provence Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly Saveur Cooks Authentic French: Rediscovering the Recipes, Traditions, and Flavors of the World's Greatest Cuisine The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen Clochemerle Bruno, Chief of PoliceChewing-gum et spaghetti

[Hank Stuever · Rating 2 out of 5]

Disappointed with "Dirt," especially given the degree to which I loved "Heat" so many years ago. The story and the telling of it just doesn't have the same energy and, as others have already pointed out here, there's a tonal problem in regards to the co-parenting issues, which is distracting and irritating. And it just takes too long to get to the cooking -- whereupon, I discovered, French cooking just isn't as fascinating as Italian cooking. The book seemed to go on and on. I checked, and "Dirt" is about 100 pages longer than "Heat." It just doesn't have that same combination of depth, revelation and accessibility.

[Alison · Rating 1 out of 5]

Fifty pages in and I'm not sure I'll read much more. It's interesting and entertaining, but it's also infuriating to read about a hyper-privileged family that has no shame in milking its connections to get Buford opportunities that other, harder-working and more qualified people would salivate over. When people talk about mediocre white men failing up, this is what they mean. If I so brazenly worked my network to get access/opportunities for which I was unqualified, I would be embarrassed. I certainly wouldn't write a book about it.

[Left Coast Justin · Rating 2 out of 5]

Many years ago, Mr. Buford, a magazine columnist, went to Italy to learn how to cook in a restaurant (a very different endeavor than cooking for the family). He wrote a book about this experience, and the pleasure he took in living in Italy, getting to know the culture, learning the language and the food and wine of the area shone through on every page.

He came back to the U.S., married, and shortly after his wife bore twins decided to repeat this experience en famille in France. Most of the details of actually moving a family of young children to France falls to his wife, while he pursues the dream of working in an upscale French restaurant. Although he is in every way unqualified for this duty, he relies upon a few connections and the modest celebrity he achieved with his first book to land in a famous cooking school, which he leaves after a few weeks, then in a famous restaurant.

He doesn't enjoy his work. He really, really dislikes his coworkers, and they look down on him as an unqualified, privileged wanker. He wishes he were still in Italy, where working in the kitchen is a duty of pleasure rather than a hypercompetitive effort to determine who is the top dog. 40% of the way through this, I can only conclude that he really hated being in France, and didn't have any fun at all writing this book, either. For the reader, it's like being stuck as a guest in somebody's home while they have a marital tiff. You just want it to end.

Early in the book, he works at a (relatively) humble bakery, making bread, and this is the only part of the book I enjoyed. I did not feel compelled to finish it.

[cat]

HATED it. Privileged drivel and his dismissive tone in the first number of chapters so I decided not to finish it.

[Phyllis · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was so disappointing and didn't live up to its subtitle: "Adventures in Lyon as a Chef in Training, Father, and Sleuth Looking for the Secret of French Cooking." The author could have cut the word count in half and it would still have been tedious. The premise sounds entertaining as New York-based author Bill Buford decides to move to Lyon with his wife and three-year-old twin boys in order to learn how to cook French cuisine, without even knowing how to speak French. But his brash attitude as a New Yorker journalist gives way to entitlement as he talks his way into working in the kitchen of a restaurant in Lyon, into a cooking school, and a bakery. Buford accurately yet repeatedly details the bullying back-of-the-house attitude of the French chefs, which may sound familiar to those who have read Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential.

I read most of this 400+ page book, but have to admit that I started to skim after the halfway mark. I could no longer tolerate the excruciating detail about every.little.thing - from a solo hike, to butchering a pig, to making a sauce, to searching out the source of the wheat from which the most delicious bread in the world is made. The chapters were too long, as if Buford just didn't know when to stop or how to pace himself. The same goes for his stay in Lyon. He ended up staying five years!

I found the praise on the back of the book from well-known authors and respected chefs to be empty and misleading, unless they didn't read the same book I did. I give it 1.5 stars and can't recommend.

[Jane · Rating 1 out of 5]

I assumed I was the perfect audience for this book; raised in France, lover of food, consumer of the New Yorker, fellow parent - and perhaps most importantly - a huge fan of Heat, Buford’s exploration of Italy, Italian food, and Italian kitchens.

Turns out that was definitively not the case.

This book is about Lyon, not France (& definitely not Paris) - and tempis pour vous if you’re not Lyonnais & instinctively get it. This is for lovers of name brand chefs, not food, and complicated food histories that are dropped into the text with seemingly little rhyme or reason. The tightness of the New Yorker is nowhere to be found - Buford meanders, repeats himself (yes, taste is paramount), and pats himself on the back while openly debating what would make a good ending for this book. He does that thing that drives all mothers nuts - heaping empty praise on his wife as “the smarter one” even as he leaves her (repeatedly) to sort out the ho him business of, you know, raising children and feeding them and enrolling them in school and securing visas and an apartment for him to live out his fantasy and translating all French and making friends and the list goes on and on and on but he’s too busy trying to score another dinner invite to a chef’s home to notice. Oh - and sexual harassment and open misogyny? Geee, whiz, maybe he should have done something but gosh he just had no leverage at all...

In Heat, we met an accomplished writer but a novice chef - one who brought us along on a new love affair with not just restaurant kitchens but the food they produce. In Dirt, all of the charm is gone and in its place is an overly detailed, sometimes smug rendering of food and history we payesans could never dream of understanding.

[Tuck · Rating 4 out of 5]

I've always liked buford, his book about soccer hooligans is super, about his apprentice ship in Tuscany is fascinating, and now his apprenticeship in lyon starred restaurants and bakery is super fun, a natural and cultural history of French cooking. the secrets? good fresh ingredients, and an alchemical melding of opposites (the sauces) . fun reading but may be tedious for some readers. no pictures , no cited bibliography but lots of citations within the text, no index. cheapo random house bs.

[Bookreporter.com Biography & Memoir · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bill Buford’s previous culinary memoir, HEAT, was one of my favorite books of 2006. I loved reading his no-holds-barred, behind-the-scenes, often hilarious examination of what really happens in the kitchens of Italian chef Mario Batali (a vision that has since been somewhat clouded by subsequent revelations about Batali’s inappropriate behavior with female colleagues and guests, but whose insights about the toxicity of restaurant kitchens feel that much more relevant as a result). Needless to say, I was eager to read Buford’s new memoir, DIRT, in which he upends his young family’s life and puts his career on the line to explore an even more revered culinary destination: Lyon, France.

Buford, whose impetuousness comes off as charmingly enthusiastic, is determined to undertake a rigorous series of internships in some of the most famed eateries in the world. He’s convinced he has an edge because he’s already friends with one of Lyon’s favorite sons, Daniel Boulud, but he soon discovers that breaking into the French culinary establishment --- and Lyon’s proud and tradition-laden position at its center --- is about as difficult as making a perfect omelet.

After a stint at his local boulangerie (his bittersweet friendship with its owner forms the emotional core of the story) and an intense course at an esteemed culinary school, Buford finally lands a position at a restaurant, where he has to claw his way up from the garde manger station to eventually preparing “le personnel” --- the staff lunch. He overcomes his nerves (and his chronic lateness), eventually delighting his colleagues with such unaccustomed delicacies as tuna burgers and (gasp!) Italian food.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, given the topic of his earlier memoir, Buford continually circles back to a hypothesis that the Italian and French culinary traditions are more closely intertwined than originally thought (and any self-respecting French chef could admit). He spends a fair amount of the book exploring the possibility that Italian food influenced French cuisine (and Lyonnaise cuisine, more specifically) via travelers traversing the nearby Alps. Some of the history starts to read a little like inside baseball, but his premise will prompt at least some readers (and diners) to consider potential connections.

Buford paints Lyon as a city that is undoubtedly rich in culinary history but also far from perfect, with areas that are crime-ridden, noisy and dirty --- hardly the picture-perfect vision of a French landscape. Likewise, he illustrates just how difficult rising through the ranks of restaurant kitchens can be, even for classically trained young chefs --- especially when those chefs are women or non-white.

Much of the humor here comes from anecdotes about Buford’s surprisingly resilient young family. His wine expert wife and their two young sons (who are toddlers when they arrive in France) tolerate his whimsical notions and his long hours, and come to love their life in Lyon. The ending of DIRT finds the family back in New York, where Buford’s sons --- who by this point have spent more than half their life in France and are more fluent in French than in English --- are horrified by American school cafeteria food.

One wonders if Buford will again upend his family’s life to embark on another international culinary adventure. If so, readers will be eager to pack up and follow along.

Reviewed by Norah Piehl

[Martin, I stand with ISRAEL · Rating 1 out of 5]

A writer for the New Yorker magazine goes to Lyon, France to learn French cooking.

This long boring story tells how the author uproots his family to hopefully learn French cooking on the job. After finding he isn’t exactly welcomed in any of the Lyon’s restaurants, he decides to enroll in a famous cooking school. The author graduates by the skin of his teeth and finds a job.

We then explore the wonders of French cooking. We learn how to cook testicles, duck bladder. and pig blood 🩸 pudding. Yuck. Also, we learn that the French cook with lots of butter and fat. Double yuck 🤢. This is the wonderful French cooking I have heard of?

Then we have the debate. Did French cooking evolve from Italy. On and on we go to find out the true beginning of France’s cooking. I never really found the answer.

Skip the book.

[Beth Cato · Rating 4 out of 5]

I bought this book for research purposes, and though it didn't provide new information in that regard, I found it to be an enjoyable, fascinating read on the modern food of Lyon as seen through the experiences of an experienced American chef.

[Deb (Readerbuzz) Nance · Rating 4 out of 5]

"My approach, I explained to the chief executive of the French Culinary Institute, was to find a venue, make mistakes, be laughed at, and debased, and then either surmount or fail. My plan...was to start out in a good French kitchen here in the United States ('But which one?' I mused), and follow that with three months in Paris.
'Three months?' she asked.
'Three months.'
She said nothing, as if pretending to reflect on my plan. She asked, 'Do you know Daniel Boulud?'
'Yes.' Boulud is America's most successful French chef....
'He grew up near Lyon,' Hamilton said.
'Yes, I'd heard that....'
'Some say that it is the "gastronomical capital of the world."'
'Yes, I had heard that, too.' She could have been talking to my toddlers.
'The training, the discipline, the rigor,' Hamilton drew the word out, slowly, like a nail. 'For two years, Daniel cut carrots.'
I nodded. 'Carrots,' I said, 'are very important.'
Hamilton sighed. 'You say you want to work in France for three months.' She illustrated the number with her fingers. 'And what do you think you will learn?'
I wasn't about to answer.
'I will tell you what you will learn. Nothing.'"

Bill Buford expands upon his plan. He goes to work for a good French kitchen in the US. He moves to Lyon. He goes to culinary school. He works in a good French restaurant in Lyon. With him come his wife and two young boys. They stay longer, much longer than three months. And Buford learns French cooking.

There are many parts of this story that fascinated me.

Bill Buford and his wife reflect upon lunches in the boys' school, a typical French public school: "There they eat their food in silence. This is to encourage them to think about what they're eating. They are served each course at a table by women who know how much the children want. They are not obliged to finish their food. But if they don't, they don't get the next course....'America seems so far away.'"

What makes the food of France so good? Buford explores that. He draws on a film, Natural Resistance, in which a winemaker compares two vineyards, across from each other, in Italy. One is a tidy vineyard, and the other is "a tumble of weeds and grasses." Then he looks at the soils of the two. His is a rich combination of "roots, straw, much of it decomposing, mulch, worms." The other is gray, compacted, resembling cement, with nothing alive in it. It's that rich soil that makes the ingredients of the complex flavors of the food. A revelation.

And some of the ideas Buford takes on are so deep they could take a lifetime to investigate: "...actually the secret code of French cooking---it's flair---seems always to involve getting two incompatible elements to live with each other." Whoa. Are we just talking about French cooking here?

The brutality of working in a French kitchen is almost beyond the sensibilities of this gentle American reader. There is no tolerance of mistakes. Bullying, both verbal and physical, is rampant. Yet, Buford tells us, he never learned more, so quickly. What does a person do with that knowledge?

Dirt is for anyone with a keen interest in France or French cooking or, perhaps, the world.

[Bonnie E. · Rating 4 out of 5]

I vacillated between feelings of absolute joy while reading certain passages and utter boredom getting through others. The author spends too much time narrating a historical search for the Italian influence on French cooking and yet, he is a true poet when he describes the bread made by Bob, the humble baker in Lyon or his delight in discovering chalet d'alpage, an Alpine cheese made of milk still warm from the udder. He lambasts himself for not stepping forward as he witnessed bullying and other forms of ugliness in the workplace, while also extolling the precision, creativity and hard work needed to succeed as a chef. He forgives and befriends one of his main tormentors in the kitchen, crediting the man's hard ass approach with making him a better cook. His foray into a haute cooking society is punctuated with self deprecating humor. His family's experiences in Lyon are funny and charming, although he does not pretend that it was a bed of roses carting two little boys overseas or around the country. He gives due appreciation to his wine expert wife for doing yeoman's work managing the household while running her own business.

This book was a great antidote to 2020 after nearly a year with little to no real life travels or adventures of my own. It was also bittersweet to read in a time when so many restaurants, bistros and cafes around the world are struggling or going out of business due to the pandemic.

[Benjamin · Rating 3 out of 5]

What to say about this book. It's a fish out of water tale of an American cook who goes to Lyon, France to work in the kitchens of Michelin starred restaurants.

The writing is fine, clear, and clean. But, like the book itself, it's missing something. There weren't any words or phrasing that I found myself underlining. You're introduced to a jumble of characters who come and go through the pages, a few too many to keep track of. I wished he would've written more about Bob. It's a fine book and worth the read, especially if you dig food, but it's basically his last book, except with French instead of Italian food.

[Rebecca · Rating 4 out of 5]

Buford’s Heat was one of the highlights of my foodie summer reading in 2020. This is a sequel insomuch as it tells you what he did next, after his Italian-themed apprenticeships. The short answer is that he went to Lyon to learn French cooking in similarly obsessive fashion. Without knowing a word of French. And this time he had a wife and twin toddlers in tow. He met several celebrated French chefs – Michel Richard, Paul Bocuse, Daniel Boulud – and talked his way into training at a famous cookery school and in Michelin-starred kitchens.

These experiences are discussed in separate essays, so I rather lost track of the timeline. It’s odd that it took the author so many years to get around to publishing about it all. You’d think his sons were still young, but in fact they’re now approaching adulthood. The other slightly unusual thing is the amount of space Buford devotes to his pet theory that French cuisine (up to ragout, at least) evolved from Italian. Unsurprisingly, the French don’t favour this idea; I didn’t particularly care one way or the other.

Nonetheless, I enjoyed reading about his encounters with French bureaucracy; the stress of working in busy (and macho) restaurants, where he’s eventually entrusted with cooking the staff lunch; and his discovery of what makes for good bread: small wheat-growing operations rather than industrially produced flour – his ideal was the 90-cent baguette from his local boulangerie. This could have been a bit more focused, and I’m still more likely to recommend Heat, but I am intrigued to go to Lyon one day.

Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.

[Pat · Rating 2 out of 5]

I enjoyed Bill Buford's writing in the past but this was a letdown, horrible, actually but I don't want to give it one star. It is a tad more worthy than that. First of all, as a decades long editor, he needs an editor! Who really wants to read seventy of pages of indecisions, missed planes, frusterating apartment searches and all of the woes of enrolling his children into an elite pre-kindergarten school. This all reeks of such priviledge that I wonder who he was writing for except a rarified few and certainly not curious cooks who can never afford to eat at the restaurants they work in. Then tireless, humorless pages on working in French kitchens -- peeling potatoes with men who are hostile and arrogant, with only vague descriptions on how their food is prepared. I get that old world kitchens in France are highly regimented but there was not a nice person in the bunch. Buford himself seemed devoid of any humor whatsoever for the often absurd situations he found himself in. I did appreciate some of his descriptions of the countryside but that is about all. I could go on but I won't bother. Simply summarized, I had little interest in his rote memoir that was too often devoid of substance and style and with no self-awareness of how his tone and recollections are really quite elitist and naive. As a kitchen professional myself, and follower of his career since his Granta days (and I still own 20 issues), I was sorely disappointed.

[Al · Rating 1 out of 5]

I am VERY tired of mediocre white guys acting on their privilege like it's earned and this is the pinnacle of name-dropping, I-don't-care-what-it-costs-just-get-it-for-me entitlement. I liked Heat, I love foodie memoirs and was eager to read the French version of it. I gave this book nearly 150 pages hoping it would pick up and make me less annoyed. It didn't; so I'm done. I can't read any more of Buford's tortured sentence structures while he flits around dragging his kids and beleaguered (willing, but still very much taken advantage of) wife around Lyon with NO plan, happenstance contacts and somehow expecting the culinary world of France to fall at his feet because he wrote a book a few years back about food in Italty (Look! I have a French copy for you - let me into your kitchen? You will? OK, great! But I'll immediately pass you over when something better comes along...). It's really astounding to me how much he relies on his "fame" to push him along in the narrative without that much to back himself up and how he somehow feels like he's entitled to the opportunity because he'll be making a book about it. I might have stuck it out if it felt like the book was about food, but this is not a foodie memoir. This is a book about how Bill Buford insinuates himself into situations and likes to hang around famous people. The food is very much secondary (maybe even tertiary) in the narrative to the author himself.