This tale does for wandering head chefs what The Hustler did for pool arks and it features Judas Iscariot LeBlanche who went to work at fifteen and within a few years had armies of kitchen help under his command. This also retraces his early black history which began at his mother's death with his birth and resulted in his name, and later included other annals of violence (his father murdered Judas' wife, and he in turn killed his father). Judas here however is first introduced in 1959 in Provincetown, where he is in Napoleonic full tilt in a ritzy summer resort's kitchen. The present-day episodes concern his platonic relations with a genuinely delightful homosexual; the love affairs of a nubile young thing, and his with a hostess; and a confrontation scene with his son in which he declines to reveal his parenthood... While it holds its own as a story, the novel wealthy with kitchen lore and LeBlanche himself is a dedicated artiste with admirable pretensions. It is also very funny in spots (so was an earlier book, ack Be Nimble) and much closer to cordon bleu than Onionhead.