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Craig Claiborne, 79, Times Food Editor And Critic, Is Dead

By BRYAN MILLER
Published: January 24, 2000

Craig Claiborne, who emerged from the Mississippi Delta to become the nation's pre-eminent food journalist and whose writings coaxed millions of meat-and-potato Americans to the table of fine cuisine, died on Saturday at St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital Center. He was 79 and lived in East Hampton, N.Y., and Manhattan.

Mr. Claiborne joined The New York Times in 1957 and for 29 years served as both its food editor and, intermittently, its restaurant critic. During that time, Mr. Claiborne, more than any writer of his day, introduced gastronomically sheltered Americans to the greatest chefs of France, Italy and Asia.

Through his recipes and more than 20 books, many with his colleague Pierre Franey, he encouraged home cooks to broaden their culinary horizons. Along the way, he created a widely imitated system of restaurant criticism that is standard practice today.

Mr. Claiborne's reviews for The Times, which concluded by rating a restaurant on a four-star scale after repeated visits, were a striking change for American newspapers at the time, most of which considered restaurant reviewing a feckless adjunct of the advertising department.

Perhaps Mr. Claiborne's most notorious gastronomic adventure was his $4,000 dinner in Paris, in November 1975, the result of a winning bid on a television fund-raiser. Reports of the 31-course meal for two built his reputation for audacity and panache but also garnered widespread criticism.

Mr. Claiborne retired from The Times in 1986 and continued to write books, to travel and to lecture. Perhaps his most enduring work is ''The New York Times Cook Book,'' which was published in 1961 and has sold more than a million copies.

A Mix of Flamboyance And Whimsical Spirit

Mr. Claiborne's laconic and diffident manner belied a flamboyant, even whimsical spirit. He gave extravagant birthday parties for himself on ocean liners and in restaurants; and he frequently held the most lavish -- and celebrity-studded -- dinner soirees at his home in East Hampton. A man of robust passions and, at times, confounding candor, he wore his tumultuous personal life, including his homosexuality, on his sleeve.

Mr. Claiborne was born in the hamlet of Sunflower, Miss., on Sept. 4, 1920. His father's financial setbacks forced the family to move several times, eventually to the nearby town of Indianola, where his mother, Kathleen, established a boardinghouse. It was here that the young Craig Claiborne became fascinated with the heady alchemy of cooking. Kathleen Claiborne was described by her son years later as a born cook, especially adept at the rib-sticking foods of the Deep South.

While he grew up to travel the world, Mr. Claiborne always clung to his Southern roots, in conversation, in writing and in recipes. In 1987, he published ''Craig Claiborne's Southern Cooking'' (Times Books), which celebrated Southern culture through food. To the end of his life, the aroma of chopped onions, celery, green pepper and garlic would sweep him back to his mother's kitchen on a powerful wave of memory.

In his autobiography, ''A Feast Made for Laughter'' (Doubleday, 1982), he dealt with more difficult aspects of his childhood, describing a boyhood sexual encounter with his father as well as his lifelong struggle to escape from the smothering presence of his mother.

After deciding against premedical studies at Mississippi State College, Mr. Claiborne went on to the University of Missouri, where he studied journalism. After graduating in 1942, he joined the Navy as a communications specialist, later becoming the executive officer on a submarine chaser.

After World War II, Mr. Claiborne took on a series of jobs in public relations, first in Chicago and later in New York. He was able to sample the better restaurants when taking clients and food editors out to lunch, but his small salary forced him into the kitchen, a copy of ''Joy of Cooking'' in hand. ''I decided that if I wanted to eat good food, I'd have to cook it myself,'' he said later. ''The more I tried, the more hooked I became, and it's never worn off.''

It was an unhappy period for Mr. Claiborne. ''I was a psychological mess,'' he said. ''I only knew that I liked to cook, and I liked to write.'' In 1949, though he had little money, Mr. Claiborne moved to France, where the epiphany of French cuisine, even on a modest level, changed his life forever. ''I was consummately happy,'' he wrote later, recalling a meal of scrambled eggs with tarragon and a glass of white wine. ''I had never tried such heavenly food.''

On a Pacific Atoll, A Time for Decision

Mr. Claiborne re-entered the military for the Korean War, and one day, sitting alone on a Pacific atoll, dissatisfied with his life, he came to a decision. ''I thought about some way to combine the two things I liked most, and the answer that came out -- to be food editor of The New York Times -- was so ambitious, I didn't let myself think about it. At that time, I only knew a little about a certain kind of Southern cooking and had never written a professional word in my life.''

All that would change. After his discharge, Mr. Claiborne entered Ecole Hoteliere de la Societe Suisse des Hoteliers, near Lausanne, Switzerland, where he earned certificates in table and banquet service and classical French cuisine. He returned to New York and began his career in food journalism at Gourmet magazine, where he was hired as a receptionist.

Eventually, he moved into an editor's post.

In 1957, The New York Times was looking for a new food editor. Mr. Claiborne applied even though it was widely assumed that the post would go to a woman, as had been the tradition. The executive editor, Turner Catledge, a fellow Southerner and alumnus of Mississippi State, broke the mold and took a chance on a man.

Within several years of taking over the restaurant critic's job, Mr. Claiborne developed a system of reviews that involved visiting a restaurant at least three times with three or four people. He went anonymously whenever possible.

Mr. Claiborne, with his culinary training, talked about the chef's cooking in detail, rating a restaurant rigorously on its food, ambience and service.

He brought a gentlemanly and authoritative style to restaurant reviewing, never strident, never mean, and in doing so, won legions of loyal followers.

Among the restaurants that he appraised in his early years on the beat were La Caravelle, Lutece, Jack & Charlie's ''21'' (later the ''21'' Club), Chambord, Quo Vadis, Le Voisin and Le Pavillon.

His eye for detail could make even tough restaurateurs wince. In a review of Le Pavillon in its later days, for example, he zeroed in on the red pencil that protruded from the maitre d'hotel's pocket as evidence of sad decline.

At a retirement party for Mr. Claiborne upon his departure from The Times, Andre Soltner, who was the chef and owner of Lutece, which Mr. Claiborne eventually awarded four stars, recalled his first review of the restaurant, in 1961. ''When I saw the paper, I was so happy to get a star, even though I couldn't read English too well,'' Mr. Soltner said. ''Then, one of my customers told me that Mr. Claiborne also gave one star to Chock Full o' Nuts.''

When Mr. Claiborne first arrived at The Times, he surveyed the culinary landscape in Manhattan and found it unimpressive. ''There were relatively few celebrated (I will not say great) restaurants in New York or in the United States for that matter,'' he wrote in his autobiography. When it came to fine dining, he wrote, New York was a ''hick town.'' Yet, he did eventually find one restaurant worthy of the term great, Le Pavillon, which was the offspring of the French restaurant at the 1939 World's Fair.

Le Pavillon was a starched and sumptuous place on Fifth Avenue, run by a brilliant martinet named Henri Soule. During an interview with Mr. Soule, Mr. Claiborne was taken to the kitchen, where he met the genial 38-year-old chef, Pierre Franey. The two men struck up an immediate friendship, bound by a common love for classic French cuisine.

Mr. Franey quit Le Pavillon in 1960 over a disagreement with Mr. Soule, and after that began accompanying Mr. Claiborne on his restaurant rounds and developing recipes for Mr. Claiborne's food columns. Their collaboration led to seven books and numerous other projects for The Times, including Mr. Franey's 60-Minute Gourmet column. Mr. Claiborne left The Times in 1970 to collaborate with Mr. Franey on a food newsletter. The venture was not a success, and Mr. Claiborne returned to the newspaper in 1974.

Mr. Claiborne worked in the enormous kitchen of his East Hampton home, often with Mr. Franey, who died in 1996, developing recipes for The New York Times Magazine and later for the Living Section. Such was his influence as a food writer that when, in the late 1970's, Mr. Claiborne was advised by his doctor to limit fat and salt in his diet, the nation followed his progress as if it were a soap opera. His book ''Craig Claiborne's Gourmet Diet'' (Times Books) introduced the concepts of low-sodium and low-fat cooking to millions of Americans.

His many books included ''The New York Times Guide to Dining Out in New York'' (1965); ''The New York Times International Cook Book (1971); ''The Chinese Cookbook'' (1972), written with Virginia Lee; and four volumes under the title ''Craig Claiborne's Favorites From The New York Times.'' The books he wrote with Mr. Franey include ''Classic French Cooking'' (1970); ''Veal Cookery'' (1978) and ''Craig Claiborne's New York Times Cookbook'' (1979).

He was an avid traveler, and his bylines, from places ranging from New Orleans to New Delhi, carried endless vicarious treats for readers. Mr. Claiborne also was recognized as a genius at identifying young and unheralded talent. In his columns, he frequently bolstered a young chef's career by giving him exposure in The Times. Among those who benefited from Mr. Claiborne's journalistic perspicacity were French chefs like Paul Bocuse, Roger Verge, Alain Ducasse, Jean Troigros and Gaston Lenotre, as well as the Italian cookbook writer Marcella Hazan and the Cajun chef Paul Prudhomme.

After his restaurant reviewing days, Mr. Claiborne became a resolute and generous friend to those he loved and admired in the world of gastronomy. Mr. Prudhomme recalled last week a conversation he had with Mr. Claiborne in the late 1970's, before Cajun cooking became all the rage.

''He asked me if I planned to renovate my restaurant,'' Mr. Prudhomme said. ''I wasn't really sure, then Craig said to me, 'If you don't have the money, I'll lend it to you!' ''

Mr. Claiborne regularly invited chefs to his home kitchen for interviews and cooking demonstrations -- usually followed by a festive dinner.

Even in the age of computers and modems, he preferred to stand at his typewriter, peering through half-glasses, while pecking out notes and peppering the cooks with questions. In his will, he left the majority of his estate, including his home and books, to the Culinary Institute of America.

He is survived by several nieces and nephews.

Talent for Demystifying World of Haute Cuisine

One of Mr. Claiborne's legacies as a journalist is how he demystified for his readers the world of haute cuisine, and even made it look like fun.

Jacques Pepin, the chef and cookbook author, recalled, ''Craig broke down the formality of cooking, like we had in France, and in the process made it accessible to all.''

When asked what qualities made a good food critic, Mr. Claiborne said, ''The ability to write and a conversance with food.'' Both, he said, were instinctive. ''I think you are born with a seed for making a sentence that reads well, as well as one for learning to be discriminating where food is concerned.'' Mr. Claiborne was confident that he possessed both. But he was also afflicted by feelings of inadequacy and racked by self-doubt, and the burden of constant reviewing weighed heavily on him.

''Many's the night I've lain in bed worrying about the stellar worth of one restaurant or another,'' he wrote, ''about whether I was justified in referring to a chef's Mornay sauce as pure mucilage, or whether that unaccustomed flavor in the hollandaise sauce was actually basil or rosemary as I had judged it to be.''

His newspaper readers never sensed the turmoil within. In print, Mr. Claiborne communicated with ease, assurance and style. ''All my life I'd been miserable and anxious and frightened,'' he once told an interviewer. ''Now I have everything. All I want is for it to continue.''

The road to his notorious dinner in Paris began one evening in 1975 when he was at home watching an auction to raise money for Channel 13, the PBS station in New York City.

One of the prizes was dinner for two, anywhere in the world and sky's-the-limit on expenses, sponsored by American Express. Mr. Claiborne bid $300, not expecting to win. To his surprise, the dinner was his. He immediately called Mr. Franey, and the two boarded a plane to Paris for a scouting expedition.

They chose a restaurant called Chez Denis, where the chef assured them that he could produce such an extraordinary 31-course menu. A few months later, Mr. Claiborne and Mr. Franey returned to the restaurant and sat down to a five-hour, 31-course dinner, a cascade of beluga caviar, foie gras, ortolans and truffles, parfait of sweetbreads, chaud-froid of woodcock, and a dish made from hundreds of sots-l'y-laisse, the ''oysters'' found in chickens just above the thigh bone.

Among the wines served were a 1918 Chateau Latour, a 1928 Chateau Latour and an 1835 Madeira.

Later, in his autobiography, Mr. Claiborne maintained that the dinner was not perfect in all respects. The lobster in the lobster gratin was chewy and the oysters arrived lukewarm. ''The presentation of the dishes, particularly the cold dishes, such as the sweetbread parfait and the quail mousse tart, was mundane,'' he wrote.

Details of the meal were printed on the front page of The New York Times. Reader response was immediate and angry. Nearly a thousand letters poured in, most of them expressing outrage that anyone could spend thousands of dollars on dinner when people all over the world faced starvation. Anti-Claiborne sentiment ran four to one. The Vatican pronounced the stunt ''scandalous.''

As testament to Mr. Claiborne's legendary stamina, when the two left the restaurant, Mr. Franey turned to his partner and asked him to sum up the experience.

''You know what was so amazing about that meal?'' Mr. Claiborne replied. ''I don't really feel that stuffed.''

Recipe With Elements Critic Loved

Craig Claiborne loved: anything French; lamb, his favorite meat; and slow cooking, especially braising, in which flavors intensify pleasantly. This recipe, adapted from ''Craig Claiborne's New New York Times Cookbook'' (1979), written with Pierre Franey, combines all these elements in only six steps.

BRAISED LAMB WITH BASIL AND GARLIC STUFFING

1 5-pound leg of lamb, boned

1/4 pound bacon or salt pork

6 cloves garlic, finely minced

3 sprigs fresh parsley

10 fresh basil leaves

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1 cup coarsely chopped onion

1/2 cup coarsely chopped carrot

3/4 cup dry white wine

2 cups chopped, peeled tomatoes, fresh or canned.

1. When the lamb is boned, ask the butcher to reserve the bones and crack them.

2. Combine the bacon, garlic, parsley and basil in a food processor or use an electric blender. Blend the ingredients to a fine puree.

3. Sprinkle the lamb inside with salt and pepper. Spread the bacon mixture inside the lamb to fill it. If some of the stuffing oozes out, no matter. Sew up the lamb, tucking in torn pieces of lamb as necessary. Sprinkle the lamb all over with salt and pepper. Rub the lamb with any excess bacon and herb mixture.

4. Place the lamb, fat side down, in a heavy casserole, and arrange the bones around it. The lamb and bones should fit snugly inside the casserole. Brown the lamb on all sides, and sprinkle the chopped onion and chopped carrot around it. Cover and cook for about 5 minutes.

5. Carefully pour off and discard all the fat that has accumulated. Add the wine, tomatoes and salt and pepper to taste. Cover and bring to the boil. Cook over moderate heat for about 2 hours.

6. Remove the lamb, and strain the sauce into a saucepan. Bring to a boil, and skim the surface as necessary to remove as much fat as possible. Cook the sauce down until it is thick and properly concentrated. Slice the meat, and spoon a little of the sauce over each serving.

Yield: 8 to 12 servings.