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32 Yolks: From My Mother's Table to Working the Line Paperback – March 21, 2017
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NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY NPR
In an industry where celebrity chefs are known as much for their salty talk and quick tempers as their food, Eric Ripert stands out. The winner of four James Beard Awards, co-owner and chef of a world-renowned restaurant, and recipient of countless Michelin stars, Ripert embodies elegance and culinary perfection. But before the accolades, before he even knew how to make a proper hollandaise sauce, Eric Ripert was a lonely young boy in the south of France whose life was falling apart.
Ripert’s parents divorced when he was six, separating him from the father he idolized and replacing him with a cold, bullying stepfather who insisted that Ripert be sent away to boarding school. A few years later, Ripert’s father died on a hiking trip. Through these tough times, the one thing that gave Ripert comfort was food. Told that boys had no place in the kitchen, Ripert would instead watch from the doorway as his mother rolled couscous by hand or his grandmother pressed out the buttery dough for the treat he loved above all others, tarte aux pommes. When an eccentric local chef took him under his wing, an eleven-year-old Ripert realized that food was more than just an escape: It was his calling. That passion would carry him through the drudgery of culinary school and into the high-pressure world of Paris’s most elite restaurants, where Ripert discovered that learning to cook was the easy part—surviving the line was the battle.
Taking us from Eric Ripert’s childhood in the south of France and the mountains of Andorra into the demanding kitchens of such legendary Parisian chefs as Joël Robuchon and Dominique Bouchet, until, at the age of twenty-four, Ripert made his way to the United States, 32 Yolks is the tender and richly told story of how one of our greatest living chefs found himself—and his home—in the kitchen.
Praise for 32 Yolks
“Passionate, poetical . . . What makes 32 Yolks compelling is the honesty and laudable humility Ripert brings to the telling.”—Chicago Tribune
“With a vulnerability and honesty that is breathtaking . . . Ripert takes us into the mind of a boy with thoughts so sweet they will cause you to weep.”—The Wall Street Journal
- Print length256 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherRandom House Trade Paperbacks
- Publication dateMarch 21, 2017
- Dimensions5.21 x 0.55 x 8 inches
- ISBN-100812983068
- ISBN-13978-0812983067
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Editorial Reviews
Review
“With a vulnerability and honesty that is breathtaking . . . Ripert takes us into the mind of a boy with thoughts so sweet they will cause you to weep. He also lets us into the mind of the man he is today, revealing all the golden cracks and chips that made him more valuable to those around him.”—The Wall Street Journal
“Eric Ripert makes magic with 32 Yolks.”—Vanity Fair
“32 Yolks may not be what you’d expect from a charming, Emmy-winning cooking show host and cookbook author. In the book, there are, of course, scenes of elaborate meals both eaten and prepared. And all the talk of gigot d’agneau, tarte tatin, petits farcis, paupiette de veau and saumon en croute may prompt a dinner reservation at your local French restaurant. But Ripert’s story is, for the most part, one of profound loss, a tumultuous childhood and abuse, both mental and physical.”—Los Angeles Times
“If you’re interested in how successful people become successful—and if you’re not, why aren’t you?—check out 32 Yolks: From My Mother’s Table to Working the Line. It’s a great story, especially for people just starting out, since Eric focuses on his formative years. ‘My time at Le Bernardin has been well documented,’ Eric told me, ‘and so I wanted to share what came before then and how my early years as a child and first kitchen experiences shaped my journey.’”—Jeff Haden, Inc.
“Heartbreaking. Horrifying. Poignant. And inspiring. I’ve known Eric for years, and I had no idea that this was how it all started. If you want to get a clear picture of where one gets the drive and dedication to be a truly great chef, there is no better or more harrowing account.”—Anthony Bourdain
“This book demonstrates just how amazing Eric’s life has been both inside and outside the kitchen. It makes total sense now that he has become one of the greatest chefs in the world today. This is a portrait of a chef as a young man. It’s endlessly entertaining and teaches young cooks how it used to be.”—David Chang
“Eric Ripert is known around the world for his talent and passion for food. I have been friends with him for half his life, but his memoir let me discover more about his past. His journey from Andorra to Manhattan is full of adventure, hard work, and ambition, and it is an inspiration to us all.”—Daniel Boulud
“Eric Ripert’s 32 Yolks is almost as irresistible as his cooking—a suspenseful, scary, and deeply moving memoir. Even with the knowledge of his eventual triumph as one of the world’s greatest chefs, you can’t help wondering as you turn the pages whether he will manage to survive his childhood or his grueling apprenticeship in two of France’s top kitchens. But ultimately his deep, visceral appreciation of food and the joy of cooking make this a lyrical and inspiring story.”—Jay McInerney
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
First, Dessert: Chocolate Mousse
Two things happened the year I turned eleven: my father died and I became friends with my first professional chef, a guy named Jacques.
My mother, distressed at my sadness over the loss of my father, tried to cure it with the one thing she knew I still loved: an extraordinary meal. One day, after she closed her shop, she announced that we wouldn’t be going home to have dinner with her new husband, Hugo, and my baby sister. Instead we were going to the restaurant in the same complex of shops as her own, Chez Jacques.
“It is almost impossible to get a table,” my mother said, smiling conspiratorially. “But why don’t you and I go, just the two of us?”
I smiled for the first time in weeks. A night out alone with my mother? At an exclusive restaurant? It was like Christmas had come early.
As we approached Chez Jacques, my mother whispered, “Let me do the talking. They say the chef is a lunatic.”
We were greeted at the door by Mercedes Quillacq, a voluptuous blond Spanish woman in her midforties. I had never met her but she greeted my mother as if they were old friends, and she seated us with a flourish that implied we were honored guests. The restaurant was rustic and simple. I would later learn that Jacques had built the entire establishment himself and that the dining room was actually the first floor of the family home. There were maybe twenty seats and an open plan kitchen, which was unusual for the time. There was no menu, just a set meal for the night. You ate what Jacques prepared, and you paid a hefty price for the pleasure.
From my seat at the table I could see Jacques at work in the kitchen: short and muscular, he wore a white chef’s jacket with short sleeves and sweated with the force of a man who was all at once chef, sous-chef, and dishwasher. In one pot, he cooked pasta. In another, he made green beans. The industrial oven churned out culinary masterpieces, seemingly on its own. Now there’s a platter of caramel pork. Look, there’s a camembert en chemise (a version of brie en croute). And is that a roast duck? Watching Jacques cook for an entire restaurant, alone and happy in his kitchen, was like going to the circus and watching a master juggler spin a hundred plates. I was mesmerized.
I quickly learned that while the food was indeed legendary, part of what kept Chez Jacques packed was the show he put on. You did not choose to eat at Chez Jacques. Jacques chose you.
Ten minutes after we sat down, the door opened. A well-dressed man walked in and greeted Jacques, whose eyes immediately narrowed.
“Get out!” he snarled.
The man was understandably startled and tried to politely introduce himself. “Uh, je suis Monsieur Veysette. . . .”
“Who sent you?”
“Uh . . .”
“Get out!” Jacques yelled, and so the man did as he asked and left.
My mother and I sat in silence, watching the drama unfold with both amusement and awe. My pleasure in being there grew, just knowing that we had been lucky to be let in the front door.
A few minutes later, another couple arrived.
“Who sent you?” Jacques barked.
“No one. We saw . . .”
“Welcome, welcome,” Jacques said, suddenly switching to the warm tone of a mâitre’d in a famed Parisian bistro. “Mercedes, please see to it that they get the best table!”
My mother whispered to me, “Chef Jacques is known for kicking even the most elite residents of Andorra out of his restaurant. He takes great pleasure in telling the richest people in town to go screw themselves, but the food is so good, they always come back.” She went on to explain that Jacques was ex–French Legion and he wasn’t impressed with power. He’d survived the Battle of Dien Bien Phu; he didn’t care about the vice-president of the local hydroelectric company or a retired British footballer. Naturally, the spectacle only made Chez Jacques more of a destination. “Whatever you do,” my mother warned, “don’t ask for salt.”
When the dishes arrived, it was clear that we were being presented with more than a meal: this was a gift. The salad was composed as if Jacques had spent the afternoon in the garden, picking each green leaf himself. The coq au vin was so rich and satisfying that I had to resist the urge to lick the plate when I was done. When the meal was over, Jacques sent over not two small bowls of chocolate mousse, but nearly a tub of the stuff. My eyes widened at the heft of it; then I quickly and happily polished off the whole dish.
Jacques walked over to the table just as I was shoveling the last heaping spoon of mousse into my mouth. He looked pleased.
“The young man has a good appetite,” he said, winking at me.
“C’est trop, Monsieur Jacques,” I replied, respectfully. And it was—the very best meal I’d ever had.
“Do you want a tour of the factory?” Jacques asked, gesturing for me to follow him to the kitchen.
My mother nodded her permission and I eagerly followed Jacques back to the kitchen and propped myself onto a barstool for a better view. I pointed at the salads Jacques was making.
“How did you get the vinaigrette so creamy?” I asked.
He smiled at the question. “That’s a secret,” he said. “Come back one day and I’ll show you.”
The next day after school, instead of heading to the stockroom above my mother’s boutique, I went to Chez Jacques. I sat on the same barstool, eating bowl after bowl of baba au rhum, and listened as he told me stories about his years in the military.
Jacques was what was called a titi Parisien, a kind of scrappy, working-class guy who grew up on the not-fancy streets of Paris, like Robert De Niro in New York. He spent his career as a parachutist with the French army and had done tours of duty in Vietnam, Egypt, and Algeria. I learned more about history from him than I did from any schoolbook.
“You’ve read about the coalition between Germany, France, and Great Britain against Egypt when they tried to nationalize the Suez Canal?” he asked as he rubbed a leg of lamb with salt for that evening’s meal.
I had never heard of the Suez Canal, but I nodded my head vigorously in the hopes that he’d keep talking and serving me sweets.
“Alors. Each country had their own black market of goods,” Jacques explained. “Crates of everything from caviar to licorice. Well, one day, we heard that the British had gotten ahold of some fresh vegetables, so we traded with them—a crate of whiskey for a crate of arugula, endives, and romaine. They just wanted to get drunk! But we said, ‘The French must eat the way God intended man to eat!’ ”
He laughed so hard at the memory that he had to brace himself on the counter. “Can you imagine? Trading whiskey for some greens? But that is war, young man. That is what war is really about: going after the thing you didn’t value until you were in the position to lose it.”
I was only a kid but I thought I understood what he meant, because I had, that afternoon, spent one of the happiest days in recent memory. The school year loomed ahead, and I was sure that nothing would top the few hours I had spent watching Jacques cook and listening to his stories about parachuting out of planes and conducting secret maneuvers in foreign lands.
My mother worked six days a week at her boutique, but she cooked like a Michelin-starred chef every single night. The table was always set with fresh flowers and a beautiful tablecloth. She shopped every day at the markets. We began each meal with a delicious starter: maybe an onion soup or a big rustic salad made of blanched and raw vegetables, apple, avocado, radishes, potato, haricots verts, corn—all from a roadside market, not the grocery store. For the main course, there would be something cooked à la minute, like a pepper steak, or something she’d prepped since the morning, like a roast shoulder of lamb. There was always dessert too: a fruit dish, like pears in red wine, on the weekdays and something more elaborate, like a flan or a raspberry/strawberry/pear tart, on her day off. It was a badge of honor for my mother that at a time when women were asking if they could have it all, she did.
That evening when she came to collect me, her eyes went straight to the dirty dessert bowl sitting next to me. She knew me well enough to know that there was no way I had eaten just one serving. I could tell she was annoyed at what was certain to be an enormous bill and at my rudeness in ruining my appetite for the dinner she’d prepared at home.
But when my mother asked Jacques for the bill, throwing me an impatient glare, he just waved her off.
“No charge, madame,” he said. “The boy has been washing dishes all day. It is I who should pay him.” Then he winked at me and smiled.
This was, needless to say, a lie for my protection, and the pure tenderness of the gesture almost made me cry.
“Come back anytime,” Jacques said. I wondered if he meant it or if he was just being polite.
“Tomorrow?” I asked, shyly.
“Why not?” he answered.
“Will there be chocolate mousse the next time?” I asked, feeling bolder.
Jacques laughed, a full-bodied laugh that I would get to know well. And my mother, who in those days did not laugh very often, laughed too.
“There is always chocolate mousse at Chez Jacques,” he said.
Proust had his madeleine and because of Jacques, I have my mousse. Every time I dig into a bowl of that chocolate velvet, I am a kid again, running to Chez Jacques after school. It is the taste of friendship. It is the taste of belly laughs, and war stories, and the memory of a man who could jump out of planes and make a leg of lamb with equal amounts of skill and ardor. But more than anything, chocolate mousse is the taste of being welcomed; of Chez Jacques, where for me, the door was always open.
2
My Father’s Castle
In 1961, Paul Newman and Sidney Poitier came to Paris to make a movie about jazz, love, and possibility. In the film, Paul Newman plays a jazz musician who sees the most beautiful girl, played by Diahann Carroll, while walking down the street. She’s not interested in him, but she takes a liking to his friend, Sidney Poitier, and it just so happens that her pal, Joanne Woodward, thinks Paul Newman is kind of cute. So the pairs switch around and go about the business of falling in love, but in the end, each of the men and each of the women must go off on their own path. There is no happily ever after for these couples, only happy to have met you.
Not too long after that movie debuted, my parents met in the south of France. In time, they would do their own switching around of partners and falling in and out of love. But where the lovers in Paris Blues had only themselves to worry about, my parents’ choices affected me too, and I felt shuffled and tossed about by all of the changes. Despite all that would come afterward, the first five years of my life were so happy and bright that decades cannot diminish the sunshine and warmth that I feel when I look back at that time. My parents’ greatest gift to me was this: a model of love that was so big, it felt like the stuff of movies and songs. It wasn’t an endless love, but it was a gift all the same.
This is where it began: on a road lined with olive trees, on a bright summer day in Cagnes-sur-Mer, the largest suburb of the city of Nice. My mother, Monique, was waiting for the No. 44 bus. She had golden brown skin, the skin of a girl who has spent her whole life in sunny places—Morocco and the south of France. She was tall and thin, with hair as black as a raven that hit her back at an alluring spot. Her eyes were rimmed with kohl; her lips were a deep ruby red. My mother was just an eighteen-year-old shopgirl, but she had mastered the look of the jet set. She carried herself with confidence—even a slight arrogance—that men found irresistible. She was a prize, and she knew it.
My father, André, was ten years her senior. He was handsome and he knew it, the golden boy and oldest son of a farming family in Nîmes. He was born at the dawn of the Second World War. Like many in France, his family suffered greatly through the wars and he was determined to make a success of himself. He never wanted to feel hunger or deprivation again.
My father saw my mother standing by the bus stop wearing a miniskirt that showed off her long legs, and he was taken with her immediately. He was driving in his most prized possession, a red Peugeot convertible.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said. “Where are you off to?”
My mother explained that she was going into town to meet a friend, to see a movie.
My father dismissed this suggestion out of hand. “You are going to sit in a dark room with a group of strangers on this gorgeous day? That’s madness.”
“What else do you have in mind?” my mother asked.
“Let’s stroll the coast together,” he said.
She gladly canceled her plans and he took her to Monaco.
My father was charming. My mother was daring. And that’s how it all began.
My father was the pride of his family. He had worked his way through the ranks of the Banque Nationale de Paris, and had done so well that he was named president of the Cagnes-sur-Mer branch before his thirtieth birthday. He was married once, in his early twenties, to a girl from back home, but the marriage ended before they had children. He was single and well-off on the French Riviera, and my father enjoyed playing the role of a bad boy.
He took my mother to all of the most fabulous parties. The people they rubbed elbows with are like a who’s who of France in the 1960s: Over there is the actor Alain Delon, famed for his recent turn as Ripley in Purple Noon, the French movie adaptation of the Patricia Highsmith novel The Talented Mr. Ripley. Here comes Brigitte Bardot, all blond hair and bosom, talking animatedly about animal rights. Mingling with them are high-ranking government officials who have traveled to the south to take part in the fun and sun.
Product details
- Publisher : Random House Trade Paperbacks; Reprint edition (March 21, 2017)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 256 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0812983068
- ISBN-13 : 978-0812983067
- Item Weight : 6.8 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.21 x 0.55 x 8 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #82,349 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #56 in French Cooking, Food & Wine
- #69 in Culinary Biographies & Memoirs
- #1,726 in Memoirs (Books)
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About the authors
Eric Ripert is grateful for his early exposure to two cuisines—that of Antibes, France, where he was born, and to Andorra, a small country just over the Spanish border where he moved as a young child. His family instilled their own passion for food in the young Ripert, and at the age of 15 he left home to attend culinary school in Perpignan. At 17, he moved to Paris and cooked at the legendary La Tour D’Argent before taking a position at the Michelin three-starred Jamin. After fulfilling his military service, Ripert returned to Jamin under Joel Robuchon to serve as chef poissonier.
In 1989, Ripert seized the opportunity to work under Jean-Louis Palladin as sous-chef at Jean Louis at the Watergate Hotel in Washington, D.C. Ripert moved to New York in 1991, working briefly as David Bouley’s sous-chef before Maguy and Gilbert Le Coze recruited him as chef for Le Bernardin. Ripert has since firmly established himself as one of New York’s—and the world’s—great chefs.
In 1995, at just 29 years old, Ripert earned a four-star rating from the New York Times. 20 years later and for the sixth consecutive time, Le Bernardin again earned the New York Times’ highest rating of four stars, becoming the only restaurant to maintain this superior status for this length of time, without ever dropping a star.
In September 2011, Ripert and Le Coze unveiled a significant redesign of Le Bernardin from Bentel & Bentel that earned the restaurant a James Beard Award for “Best Restaurant Design” in 2012. The new look features a lounge, a first for the restaurant, where a separate menu is available.
Three years later in September 2014, Ripert and Le Coze opened Aldo Sohm Wine Bar, named for the acclaimed wine director Aldo Sohm. Located just steps away from Le Bernardin, the wine bar offers a menu of cheese, charcuterie and simple fare paired with Sohm’s curated wine list in a casual, convivial setting. That same month, the two expanded Le Bernardin’s private dining offerings with Le Bernardin Privé, a dynamic space above Aldo Sohm Wine Bar that can accommodate a range of events, including weddings, cocktail receptions and corporate meetings.
GQ named Le Bernardin the best restaurant in America in 1997, and in 2007, the magazine named Le Bernardin one of “Seven Food Temples of the World.” In 2005, New York magazine declared Le Bernardin the #1 restaurant in the city, awarding it five stars in the inaugural restaurant rating issue – a position it holds today. Also in 2005, Bon Appetit declared Ripert’s Butter-Poached Lobster with Tarragon and Champagne its “Dish of the Year.”
Le Bernardin continues to receive universal critical acclaim for its food and service, and currently ranks 18 on the S. Pellegrino World’s 50 Best Restaurants list. The Michelin Guide, which made its New York debut in 2005, honored Chef Ripert and Le Bernardin with its highest rating of three stars in 2005 and each year thereafter. From the 2011 editions of the Zagat Guide on, Le Bernardin has received a ”29 out of 30” rating for food: the highest in New York City and the first time that’s happened since 1996. In the 2012, 2013, 2014 and 2016 Zagat Guides, Le Bernardin is named the most popular restaurant in the city, and in the 2015 and 2016 Guides it also took top honors for service. In 1998, the James Beard Foundation named Le Bernardin “Outstanding Restaurant of the Year” and Ripert “Top Chef in New York City.” In 1999, the restaurant received the “Outstanding Service” award from the Beard Foundation, and in 2003, the Foundation named Ripert “Outstanding Chef in the United States.” In 2009, Le Bernardin was honored with the James Beard Award for “Outstanding Wine Service.” Most recently, in 2013, Le Coze won the award for “Outstanding Restaurateur.” In his year-end dining feature, Frank Bruni of The New York Times selected Le Bernardin as the “Best Meal of 2008.” In addition, Ripert partnered with The Ritz-Carlton Hotel Company to open Blue in Grand Cayman.
In September 2009, AVEC ERIC, Ripert’s first TV show, debuted on PBS stations and ran for two successful seasons, earning two Daytime Emmy Awards: “Outstanding Culinary Program” (2011) and “Outstanding Achievement in Main Title and Graphic Design” (2010). Avec Eric: a culinary journey with Eric Ripert (Wiley) was released in November 2010 with more than 100 recipes inspired by Ripert’s travels. AVEC ERIC returned for a third season on the Cooking Channel in February 2015. Ripert has also hosted RESERVE CHANNEL’s show “On the Table” on YouTube, which debuted in July 2012, and appeared on the “Late Show with David Letterman,” “The Charlie Rose Show,” “Ellen DeGeneres,” “TODAY,” “Live with Kelly & Michael” and “Martha Stewart.” In fall 2008, Ripert published On the Line, his second cookbook with Artisan, which in 2002 published A Return to Cooking, a collaboration between Ripert, photographers Shimon and Tammar Rothstein, artist Valentino Cortazar and writer Michael Ruhlman that was selected by Newsweek as one of its best books of the season. Ripert’s first cookbook, Le Bernardin – Four Star Simplicity (Clarkson Potter) debuted in 1998. In 2014, Ripert released his newest cookbook, My Best: Eric Ripert (Alain Ducasse Publishing), an illustrated recipe guide to 10 of his signature dishes.
Ripert is the Vice Chairman of the board of City Harvest, working to bring together New York’s top chefs and restaurateurs to rescue food and raise funds to help feed the nearly 2 million New Yorkers who face hunger each year.
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Learn more how customers reviews work on AmazonCustomers say
Customers find the writing style very well written. They also find the content interesting, honest, and explores a past. Readers describe the book as relatable, amusing, and insightful. They mention that the book is vivid in describing the meals and processes of preparing them. Customers also say the chef is nice and a great chef.
AI-generated from the text of customer reviews
Customers find the book very interesting, well-told, and satisfying. They also appreciate the vivid food descriptions and processes of preparing them. Readers say the book is simple enough that they read it in two days with ease.
"...The descriptions of the people and places are so fully and beautifully drawn that I felt as though I was watching movie unfold instead of reading a..." Read more
"...as mentioning specific dishes, ingredients, or techniques, brings the stories to life...." Read more
"...It's a good book, and I enjoyed it very much!" Read more
"...Delight, sensuality, consideration, and reverence for the gift of food are part of the dining experience...." Read more
Customers find the book fascinating, sobering, and heartfelt. They also say it captures the ups and downs of families, the intensity of high-end kitchens, and the good in every scenario. Readers also appreciate the intelligence, honesty, and clarity.
"...uncontrollable young man develops into a focused, in the moment, disciplined, efficient, elegant young chef ... as for the rest of his life, that is..." Read more
"...Ripert's intelligence, honesty, and clarity make this section entertaining and relatable...." Read more
"...Delight, sensuality, consideration, and reverence for the gift of food are part of the dining experience...." Read more
"...It is told in a most human fashion and kudos please to Veronica Chambers for helping Eric Ripert with the writing of this book...." Read more
Customers like the writing style. They mention it's very well written.
"I was unexpectedly and totally captivated by this book.It is an easy read, mostly because the sentences just flow across the pages, carrying..." Read more
"I read this book through and enjoyed it thoroughly! It's 'easy' reading and very interesting!..." Read more
"...The book is extremely well written: a coming of age, an overcoming of adversities story...." Read more
"...Very well written. My only complaint would be that it was too short. I’m sure they would’ve been so much more to tell." Read more
Customers find the content interesting, terrific, and reflective. They also say the book is frank and unusual, with a deliberate focus on the author's upbringing and relationships.
"...Ripert's intelligence, honesty, and clarity make this section entertaining and relatable...." Read more
"This is such a good biography! I cannot put it down once I started reading it...." Read more
"...peaceful about Eric Ripert and his book was very well written and explores a past that while presented with many challenges, built a foundation for..." Read more
"A very descriptive story of his childhood and the many years he spent in kitchens learning his craft....in some cases it's a wonderment that he..." Read more
Customers find the chef nice, great, and successful. They also describe him as sensitive, spiritual, and a great author.
"...Eric is obviously super talented, yet he did not let his talent get in the way...." Read more
"...Lots of passion for the craft of cooking and makes you hold your breath wanting life to be better for the young child and adult author...." Read more
"...Read his book....a truly talented gentleman." Read more
"Very interesting reading about how to become a very, very good chef...." Read more
Customers find the book relatable, amusing, and entertaining. They also say the author is a talented chef and storyteller.
"...It was interesting, relatable, sorrowful, and amusing. Fluid and simple enough that I read the book in two days with ease...." Read more
"...Amazing recall, wellWritten and for me, entertaining. I admired him as one of the greatest..." Read more
"...Poignant, heartbreaking at times, and full of humor and passion, 32 Yolks is a must read! Just say yes to this inspiring Chef!" Read more
"...Eric Ripert is not only a talented chef but an entertaining writer and story teller." Read more
Customers find the book interesting, fast-moving, and beautiful. They also say it's a moving memoir from chef Rupert.
"...Fast read, in fact I was amazed when I got to the end and was disappointed that it didn't continue into his immigration to the US...." Read more
"It was a beautiful and moving book. Most of all I appreciated Ripert's approach to the craft of cooking and his love of cuisine...." Read more
"This was a fast read and interesting if you interested in the background of good cooks, which I am. Interesting insights into three star kitchens...." Read more
"Amazing and moving. Many aspects of my childhood were similar so that was a bit hard to read, but it was well written, evocative and engrossing." Read more
Customers find the characters in the book well developed and fantastic.
"Great book. The man is fantastic" Read more
"...It was extremely personal and open.The characters were so well-written. I felt early in like I became a part of the family...." Read more
"...This frank and unusual portrayal of a really interesting life and career, and all the hard work he did to get where he is, it's fascinating if you..." Read more
"...He seems like a really genuinely nice guy." Read more
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It is an easy read, mostly because the sentences just flow across the pages, carrying the reader along from chapter to interesting chapter.
The descriptions of the people and places are so fully and beautifully drawn that I felt as though I was watching movie unfold instead of reading a book.
Ripert's upbringing is hardly what I would have imagined was the story behind of one of NYC's most highly-regarded chefs. It's a story that belies the easy smile that one sees so often in photographs of him and is a reminder that behind every window, there is a story.
Beyond the compelling story of Ripert's early family life, I found the method of French schooling to be as interesting as anything else in the book.
I highly recommend this wholly engaging story to people who are interested in reading about what it is like to grow up in the South of France, as well as people who are interested how the great chefs of our time became the great chefs of our time.
The second section was even more fascinating. It tells the story of the a young man beginning a craft that he would one day master. It tells of the early mistakes, and of the struggles of the long, frustrating work day in the kitchen. Ripert's details, such as mentioning specific dishes, ingredients, or techniques, brings the stories to life. Combined with the various settings around France that Ripert and his co writer present vividly, this section makes for an engaging read.
After finishing this book, I felt as if I had just finished having a long conversation with a legend, and that I had learned stories and lessons I would never forget.
My main complaint and it was of course a choice made by the author, was that the story ends right as he is boarding a plane to D.C. to start the next chapter of his life. I know a little of what happens next and how he wound up at Le Bernardin, and that to me is the most fascinating part of his life story.
I still recommend it as a story of working hard for what you want and the sacrifices that must be made, but as an autobiography it falls short for me.
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Briona
have been there with him.