“Imagine yourself in a large kitchen before a great dinner. There one sees twenty chefs at their urgent occupations, coming and going, moving with speed in the cauldron of heat. Look at the mass of great burning charcoal, a whole cubic metre for the cooking of entrees and another mass on the ovens for the cooking of the soups, the sauces, the ragouts, the frying and the bain-maries. Add to that a heap of burning wood in front of which four spits are turning, one of which bears a sirloin weighing 45-60 pounds, another a piece of veal weighing 35-45 pounds, the other two for foul and game. In this furnace everyone moved with tremendous speed, not a sound was heard; only I had the right to be heard and at the sound of my soft voice, everyone obeys. Finally, to put a lid on our sufferings, for about an hour the doors and windows are closed so that the air does not cool the food as it is being dished up. And in this way, I passed the best days of my life.” p. 26
And, seriously, how can you go wrong with a book about the man who created Marie Antoinette’s last meal?