The view is put forth that chefs, at least when they are at home or at play, are indeed much like everyone else: They have husbands and wives (or not), kids and dogs (or none), chores and hobbies, good times and bad times and even death and taxes and cable TV.

So far, I don’t disagree. I’ll even go further: Most chefs of my acquaintance are certifiable members of Homo Sapiens, though I have met some who would give Professor Darwin pause. And most chefs put on their white tunics one arm at a time: the fact that those tunics bear more than a passing resemblance to straitjackets is probably not worth mentioning. Without the tunics and the silly hats, most chefs look quite normal.

But they aren’t. They’re different. They’re a breed apart. And they’re mysterious.

Read more of this story »