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Foreword
Appears in
Published 2007
Alice Waters
Niloufer Ichaporia King is one of the great cooks I know. Her food is so unexpected, and at the same time so exactly what I want to eat, that since I know I can’t reasonably expect an invitation to dine at her house as often as I want, it is profoundly frustrating to me that she has never opened a restaurant. Whenever I do have the privilege of sharing her table, I’m as speechless with delight as when I first walked into her house and kitchen more than twenty years ago.
Dinner with Niloufer and her husband, David King, is wonderful in ways beyond my powers of description. Before you even turn the handle of the period doorbell of their modest stick-style San Francisco Victorian and hear its vintage bicycle-bell “brring,” you know something special is up. Your nostrils will have been beguiled by the jasmine blooming in the dooryard, and your eyes will have been drawn to some mysterious temporary adornment of the porch—various objects, mineral, vegetable, or manmade, arranged with the sensibility of an Andy Goldsworthy. Time will be slowing down. You will have a perfect threshold moment.
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