There is something very disconcerting in reading an article about one's own brother.
For that moment, the interviewer is not only with him while I am not, but they are then more informed about his current life than I am.
When I was born, my brother was 14 years old and already a budding chef. Almost 18 years later, he is the Executive Pastry Chef et Le Bernardin in New York. Not only that, but he was recently named one of the top pastry chefs in New York. Pretty darn cool, right?
I am so, so proud of him, and so very happy for him. He truly deserves to be recognised for the hard work that he has consistently put in to every aspect of his work. But... he's my brother. And despite the many articles and interviews with him(I have officially lost count), I am still disconcerted by the way they write about the man who used to read me stories and sit me up on a chair next to him as he made his class-A meringues.
The articles are filled with delicious and beautifully presented dishes, which - despite direct experience of Laurie's creations during my childhood - continually astonish mum and I every time we see them. Not that we doubt him, but seriously, have you seen this stuff?! How does a human being do anything this cool?
But this is Laurie we are talking about. And he is the king of cool. The rest of our family are just weirdos.
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