"New York is an equal-opportunity city" said former mayor Robert Wagner. "It is probably the only place in the world where a child can grow up to become a psychopathic murder, a Wall-Street broker or a superstar in the social world. What the hell", Wagner added, "if someone really tried hard, there's nothing to stop them from being all three at the same time".

Patrick Bateman, the main character in Bret Easton Ellis' best-selling novel "American Psycho" is a New Yorker who tried hard. Handsome, sophisticated, charming and intelligent, this twenty-six year old earns a fortune working on Wall Street during the day. At night, when he is not with his friends at the most "in" pubs and restaurants, he passes his time by indulging in sado-masochistic group sex, murdering vagrants, breaking the legs of stray dogs, raping and mutilating women (friends and strangers alike) and otherwise having fun in any way that pleases his insatiable needs for perversion.

Like Bateman, each of the other characters that inhabit Ellis' New York talks and eats incessantly. Unfortunately, their discussions are always banal and the foods they eat are usually a bit repulsive. They are totally occupied with their Huey Lewis Compact Disks, their Lubriderm body moisturizers and their Neutrogena face creams. They always keep a bottle of Sharfennberger Blanc de Blancs on ice, wear Karl Lagerfeld suits and Louis Del'Olio cufflings. They carry Bottega Veneta briefcases and blow their noses into forty-five dollar handkerchiefs.

The sad truth is that Ellis' New York is populated by a young generation that has experienced wealth, sex, drugs and disaffection too fast and too soon. Theirs is a dizzying spiral of desperation that takes them through a series of relentless parties, seedy bars and glitzy clubs. Morally barren and ethically bereft, the only option for "newness" that is open to them is to choose between a world of fantasy or one of violence. All of which might have made for a marvelous novel. Louis-Ferdinand Celine and Henry Miller wrote such novels about Paris; F. Scott Fizgerald did it for Asheville, North Carolina; and Jorge Amado did it for Mexico City. Unfortunately, Ellis fails to do it for New York. It is neither the catalogue of material things or foods they eat nor the violence that is inherent to the main character that offends us. What hurts this book is that the mind of his main character is little more than a garbage pail, spewing out language and thoughts that smell so putrid that little else in his character or actions is of interest.

The food that is consumed throughout the novel leaves as little to be admired as the behavior of Batemen and his friends. The menu is long and nearly all in bad taste: Venison with yoghurt sauce, smoked salmon pie with green tomato, ferns with mango sauce, sashimi with goat cheese, smoked duck with maple syrup and hot peppers, scallop sausage and fish-egg ravioli with apple compote, and veal scallops in hazelnut sauce, often all served at a single sitting make for meals so unappetizing as to be revolting. These not all that loveable characters also manage to down enormous numbers of Sabrett and Nathan's hot dogs all but drowned in mustard.

All of which is forgivable only when one realizes that these are people who insist on drinking sparkling Perrier water when they take their valium and pass their quiet moments wondering from where their next half million dollars is coming from. Oddest of all, perhaps, is the knowledge that in reality every one of these dishes exists on the menu of one "in" New York restaurant or another.

To all of these shenanigans there is, of course, a kicker that transforms this into a book worth hunting out. That ending, I will of course not reveal but will not be giving away much to say that at my rough count, Bateman commits mayhem and mutilation on the bodies of no less than 18 of his male and female acquaintances, three dogs, two cats, one squirrel and one pigeon, that mayhem described in a depth and detail that will prove erotic or revolting depending on each reader's sensibilities. Oddest of all, no matter how disgusting we find Bateman, his thoughts and his deeds, there are precious few of us who will not feel a generous dose of stimulation when reading about him.

Veal Scallops with Hazelnut Sauce

125 grams hazelnuts
1 1/4 cups butter
12 thin veal scallops (about 75 grams each)
1/2 cup flour, seasoned with salt and pepper
1/4 cup sweet cream
Worcestershire sauce to taste
salt and pepper to taste
pinch of hot pepper

Place the nuts on a baking sheet and toast them in an oven that has been preheated to 170 degrees Celsius until they are golden and the skins flake off easily. Remove from the oven and remove the skins.

In a blender or food processor grate the nuts finely. Remove 2 Tbsp. of the ground nuts and reserve for later use. Add 1 cup of the butter to the food processor and mix in well, taking care not to let the butter melt. Remove the mixture from the food processor, wrap in waxed paper and refrigerate until it is completely cold and quite hard. Cut into medium-sized chunks.

Dip the veal in the flour and then shake off the excess flour. Melt the remaining butter in a skillet and in this saute the veal quickly over a high flame (about 2 minutes on each side). Remove the veal to a heated serving plate and set aside to keep warm.

In a saucepan heat the cream with a dash or two of Worcestershire sauce, salt and pepper to taste and a pinch of hot pepper. Bring to a boil and cook until the mixture is reduced by half. Whisk in the hazelnut butter piece by piece and mix with a wooden spoon until the sauce is completely even. To serve, divide the veal on individual plates, spoon over the sauce and sprinkle over the reserved ground nuts. (Serves 4 - 6).

P.S. Can't resist adding that no matter how highly I recommend the book, I equally highly suggest skipping the movie!

© Daniel Rogov