The Chef's Apprentice: A Novel (47 page)

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

Like most authors, I’m indebted to more people than space allows me to name, but first among them are my teachers, especially Drusilla Campbell, who taught me how to write a novel. This book would not have found a home without my extraordinary agent, Dorian Karchmar, and it would not have found its final form without my equally remarkable editor, Emily Bestler. Also indispensable were the thoughtful readings and insightful comments of fellow writers Seré Prince Halverson, Chelo Ludden, and Laurie Richards. I’m grateful to my husband, Frank, for his patience and support, and to my father, the chef, for the inspiration. To friends and family who cheered me on through this book’s birth pangs, thank you all.

A
UTHOR’S
N
OTE

This is a work of fiction, and the astute reader will notice that I have taken artistic license with certain details. The famous Bridge of Sighs was constructed between 1600 and 1603, significantly later than the events of our story. However, it seems likely to me that there must have been some lesser bridge roughly in the same place and used for the same dark purpose. With that in mind I created a fictional bridge named the Bridge of Sorrows.

Marsilio Ficino was never a doge of Venice, but he was one of the most influential humanist philosophers of the early Renaissance. I used his name in order to demonstrate Chef Ferrero’s sympathy with the humanist movement of the period.

Although the heliocentric theory was not widely appreciated until later than 1498, Copernicus made his first observations in 1497, and they are recorded in his epochal work,
Síx Books Concerníng the Revolutíons of the Heavenly Orbs (De revolutíoníbus orbíum coelestíum líbrí ví)
. It was my feeling that the chef, as one of the enlightened elite, would have been aware of the heliocentric theory, which had also been recorded by Muslim astronomers centuries earlier.

Pietro Pomponazzi wrote his famous treatise,
On the Immortality of the Soul (Tractatus de immortalitate animae)
, in 1516. However, I think it would be safe to assume that he was vocal about his theories long
before he published his opus, and that his opinions were widely known. Again, as an enlightened and well-informed person, Chef Ferrero might well have heard about Pomponazzi’s theories.

It seems, to my surprise, that my use of the word
marrone
needs some explanation. I had an Italian grandmother from Bologna who used
marrone
as an all-purpose exclamation. I can still see her entering a room that my sister and I had strewn with toys, throwing up her arms and saying, “
Marrone
! What a mess!” On reflection, I see that the word might have been peculiar to her native Mo-dena, or perhaps simply peculiar to her. I don’t know. Throughout my childhood, I heard this word used exactly as I have used it in the book. If this has a strange ring to the Italian ear, I can only say that it must be the spirit of my grandmother manifesting through Luciano.

As for the presence of New World foods such as potatoes and tomatoes in an early Renaissance kitchen, I hope the reader will understand that Chef Ferrero was not just any old cook. In his fictional kitchen of marvels and magic, this chef knew many things that others of his time did not. It seems likely to me that Columbus brought back a few potatoes and tomato seeds and some ever-vigilant guardian chef saw an opportunity to expand his culinary repertoire. Over time, I believe the tubers and seedlings made their clandestine way through the underground network of educated chefs and into the capable hands of Chef Ferrero. How else could it have happened?

I take full responsibility for any other historical inaccuracies and beg my readers’ kind indulgence. My primary objective was to tell a good tale.

Grazie
and
buon appetito
,
Elle Newmark