“…  Rebecca Taylor, who used to drink beer at the bar in my restaurant and who ultimately ended up cooking in my restaurant kitchen. Our bar shelf doubled as library at the time, and this young, prolifically-tattooed woman worked her way through all the food writing we had on hand from Bourdain to M.F.K Fischer to Lucky Peach Magazine. She has proven to be an outstanding writer and has submitted work to online publishers and gotten some stuff posted, but for the printed-on-paper words,  she has experienced rejection like me. She is younger, and perhaps savvier in the ways of media. Her life is a hell of a lot more interesting  to boot. She rides horses, plants trees, sleeps in the woods and drives a convertible. With no culinary training to speak of outside of The Beech Tree kitchen and few other restos, she can cook circles around plenty of lifers. She doesn’t necessarily believe that she can, but trust me, she’s legit.  She can also wordsmith me under the table any day. I would read the shit out of any book she put out there. You would too. I really wish someone would publish her.”

From my friend Robert, over at Thrice Cooked, who has, perhaps, a more flattering view of me than is realistic.