Books: Crepes Suzette

LIFE A LA HENRI—Henri Charpentier & Boyden Sparkes—Simon & Schuster ($3).

First lucky fellow to taste a Crepe Suzette was Edward VII, then Prince of Wales. Moved to the ecstasy of inspiration by the presence of gourmandizing royalty, 14-year-old Assistant Vaiter Henri Charpentier of Monte Carlo’s Cafe de Paris did things to French pancakes that had never been done before, served the kingly dish in a blaze of spirits. Edward’s princely palate was pleased; he asked Henri to name the concoction after a friend’s little daughter who was lunching with him, sent him next day a jeweled ring, a panama hat, a cane. In the 40 years since then Henri has created many a melting masterpiece of his art. His name, no household word, is one to conjure with in the kitchens of the cognoscenti. Last fortnight he proudly served up his autobiography. The plain English carving was executed by Collaborator Boyden Sparkes, but the filling, the sauce, the flavor were pure Henri.

An orphan from an early age, Henri learned the mysteries of his profession from his foster brother, Jean Camous, became a precocious adept. At ten he had embarked on his career, soon found there was more to it than gravy. In England he nearly starved, but he learned the language and what little there was to know about English cookery. His peregrinations over Europe in pursuit of his muse were interrupted by military service, but even in the army his talents came to the fore, got him the pleasant billet of cook to a general. A civilian again, he married, took his bride to the U. S. to set up for himself. In Lynbrook, Long Island, he started a tiny restaurant which soon became a famed resort of Manhattan gourmets. J. P. Morgan Sr., Diamond Jim Brady, Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt, Theodore Roosevelt, David Belasco were among his clientele. Prohibition nearly ruined Henri, drove him in disgust back to France. Repeal brought him back again. Last year he opened his present restaurant in Rockefeller Center, Manhattan.

Henri’s narrative is succulent with descriptions of good things to eat and how to make them even better. He appends 30 pages of recipes which cannot be read aloud without frequent swallows. A master chef in the great French tradition, Henri thinks no culinary detail too homely to be treated artistically. Typical is his precept to neophyte waiters: “Carve a ham as if you were shaving the face of a friend.” Tall, white-haired (he is 54), of stately port and bonhomous mien, Henri admits he is pretty well done, but he is in no hurry to be taken from his browning oven yet.

Life a la Henri is one of those books that has a definite physical effect on the reader. C. M. Doughty’s famed Arabia Deserta, for example, parches the tongue. Life a la Henri makes the tongue hang out, the mouth water.