Blood, Bones, Butter Gabrielle Hamilton Book review

Forty-eight Hours with Blood, Bones and Butter
or
Almost Blind in Both Eyes

Check out the kudos on the back cover. How could Anthony Bourdain be envious of another chef's writings? Could anything compare with Kitchen Confidential? How dare Batali say he will burn all the books he has written, as he lavishes unabashed praise on Hamilton's prose.
The early pages made me wary. I confess to being a West Village snob-in my day, never venturing forth to the East Village, home to hippies and druggies.
I tagged p. 154, recalling the time I assisted Jacques Pepin at the Beard House, quaking every moment. But he was great and didn't live up to his demanding reputation. I relived our dinner at Lutece when Andre Soltner sat down with Rudy and me at our table to ruminate on the wine we had chosen. Memories flood back-a tour of the million dollar new kitchen at Le Cirque, a class by the pastry chef at the Four Seasons or another at Felidia to watch the chef curing a prosciutto. Those were delicious 80's with Franey, Claiborne and Child and when the food section of the Times really got your juices going.
I doubt that I will get to eat at Prune. But, I've been there through the magnificent prose of Gabrielle Hamilton. She makes me believe that she is a far better writer than a chef/restaurant owner. My bloodshot eyes can attest to that!