‘Life, On the Line’ inspiring but could do more

Knowing that noted chef Grant Achatz had survived a bout with an oral cancer that could easily have led to the removal of his tongue, I expected “Life, On the Line” by Achatz and business partner Nick Kokonas to be a compelling read that focused on his brush with death and the knowledge that, if he did survive, it would be only by forsaking the guiding passion of his life. After all, what is a chef without his tongue? And this is a young chef, who was just beginning to reveal his formidable talents to the world.

I should’ve taken a cue from the subtitle, “A Chef’s Story of Chasing Greatness, Facing Death and Redefining the Way We Eat.” And it should have been recast just a bit, because the themes of chasing greatness and redefining the way we eat make up the vast majority of the narrative of this book.

Achatz came up in a restaurant family in Michigan, and it seems that a combination of wanting to succeed beyond the point his parents did and a naturally Type A (or maybe AAA) personality drove him to want to become a chef unlike any the world had ever seen.

He would go on to do just that, first at Trio and later at Alinea, both in suburban Chicago. More than any other American chef, and more than nearly any other chef in the world (the exceptions being a few in Europe, most notably Ferran Adria of Spain’s elBulli), he would experiment with and explore molecular gastronomy, in which various processes are employed and blended with normally nonculinary processes to produce revolutionary dishes such as pheasant, shallot and cider gel with burning oak leaves, for an experience that involves all of the senses.

Throughout the main body of the book, Achatz takes us from his early culinary memories — standing on a milk crate at age 5 to stir the cherry Jell-O — through his decision to become a chef, his experiences in culinary school and his earliest jobs, through a nearly disastrous stint at Charlie Trotter’s in Chicago and a much more satisfying one at The French Laundry in Yountville, Calif., whose chef Thomas Keller would become a mentor and trusted friend.

As the story progresses Achatz and Kokonas tell it in turns, in contrasting type faces, and the older, more grounded Kokonas provides much in the way of perspective.

So far, so good — or great — until we near the end and Achatz finally gets to the subject of his cancer, at page 305 of a 390-page book. There’s a great deal to tell here — his initial misdiagnosis, his growing awareness that he would be forced to either die or sacrifice his tongue and, finally, his discovery of a physician who represents hope and, eventually, remission.

Achatz is notoriously reticent — which is repeatedly reinforced in the book — and I’m truly not all that interested in other people’s medical histories, but in the end I felt somewhat cheated. Achatz tells an inspiring story in this book, but misses the chance to inspire so much more.