If you’re a foodie, Kitchen Confidential is a must-read. It’s the inside scoop by a man who has seen it all, done it all. He walks the walk, and talks the talk but with a private-school vocabulary. The book rich with insight and interesting stories about the dedication and wackiness in a professional kitchen, but it’s also crammed full of poetry.
Ambers were in the back of my mind as I read Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain. It’s hard not to think about food when you’re reading about cooking, and then the delicious notes in my favourite cold-weather perfumes kept calling to me. All these ambers have immediately discernible spices as top notes but they have bases that are downright chewy, edible, like the best brown sugar candy that’s brittle but melts into your back teeth.
Ambre Extrème, 1978, Jean Claude Ellena. Black pepper, cardamom on that bed of benzoin, tonka, vanilla. So easy to wear and irrefutably a reference amber for so many others.
Ambre 114, 2008, Magali Senequier and Gérald Ghislain. This is amber but with nutmeg and thyme in the top notes, and more ingredients (maybe iso-e?) in the base which carries all the other notes and makes them last longer. In a way, it is a more modern amber. Ambre Sultan is the silent ghost in this picture because I feel like I need it in the rotation with both of these.
Like her, it’s strong and confident, sweet but not saccharine. Just like her, it’s responsible for a few headaches but that could be my fault for overdoing it. They’re both incredible in their ability to reach out and wrap everyone in their warmth, spicy without any bite, to be enjoyed with a sense of humour.