The Pittsburgh Lamber

The first day I was in the French Laundry kitchen, I watched Thomas Keller seam out tuna—that is, remove the sticky silver membranes between the layers of pure flesh—to make tartare. I asked, “Why are you doing that?”

Thomas halted to stare at me. Then he peeled one of the membranes off his board, extended it like a dangling mixture of silverskin and saliva, and said, “Eat it.” I figured he couldn’t be serious. “Go ahead,” he said.

I took it, I chewed it, and I swallowed it.

Thomas said, “Sometimes you have to experience the really bad in order to avoid it.” Then he went back to his cutting.