Hamburgers at Chez Panisse

“[A] man might limit his boasting to saying that he was a good trencherman, and yet be vain since he may delight in wolfing down what in the realm of the haute cuisine, is mere garbage.”

—FORD MADOX FORD, IT WAS THE NIGHTINGALE

The restaurant’s host apparently recognized me, and (I learned later) ducked into the kitchen to warn the chef that an Important Food Critic was in the house. As the evening had been a slow one and the hour was late, the chef had been getting ready to go home. Under the circumstances, of course, he couldn’t think of leaving. He did a quick inventory of raw materials and picked out what he thought was best. “Tell him about the red snapper,” he told the waitress who was assigned to my table. “Tell him about the tuna. Tell him about the venison.” She did so, dutifully. But I was not to be swayed. “A Caesar salad and a cheeseburger,” I said.