Al Dunlap's Cookbook
from Winter 1998
by Alan Farnham
Encouraged by the rave reviews heaped upon The Taste for Living Cookbook: Mike Milken’s Favorite Recipes for Fighting Cancer by Beth Ginsburg, we called Publisher’s Weekly to see whether this book was the first course, as it were, in a banquet of babble coming our way from culinary-minded business titans. Apparently not. Still, we got to wondering what such people might produce. Take Albert J. “Chainsaw Al” Dunlap, for example. Who has better credentials? He’s already a published author (Mean Business). He eats, presumably. And he’s nothing if not vehement about his tastes and likes. Plus, having been ejected from Sunbeam, he’s got the time. Here’s how we think he might begin:
I can’t help but notice when I’m out in this great country of ours firing and berating people that an awful lot of wasted effort goes into preparing what a lazy clique of toque-wearing Frenchmen who turn up their noses at solid American canned goods call ‘food.’ Well, Pierre or Louis or Jacques whatever the hell your name is, I’m here to give it to you straight. ‘Cooking’ in my book (and this is my book) boils down to taking something big—too big, usually—bloated, even—and then cutting it and cutting it and cutting it and cutting it and really cutting it until, if you put your ear down very close to it, you can hear it whisper ‘please stop.’ Accomplish that, and you’ve done the hard part. All that’s left is for you to garnish it with plenty of attitude and a little truculence. Voila! Soup’s on.
And if your guests don’t like it? Tough! You did your part. You saved their bacon. They can’t take their lumps—that’s their problem. So here now, in this book, it gives me great pleasure to share with you a few of my most favorite recipes.
NAILS
A lot of people ask me (or used to, anyway), ‘Al, how can you keep going day after day, firing people and sowing human misery, without so much as a catnap or a special papal dispensation?’ By their question these people show how little they know about nutrition. Just because you’re always on the go, running like a hunted animal from one bulletproof limousine to the next, doesn’t mean you can’t eat the nutritious meals a big, angry man like you needs. Here’s an easy-to-prepare “anytime, anywhere” snack I discovered as a West Point cadet—zero calories, but plenty of iron.
You will need:
nails (ten-pennyweight, one large bag)
salt
Season nails to taste. Enjoy! It’s as simple as that. (Caution: Wait
at least 12 hours before going swimming. May preclude air travel.)
TOSSED GREENS
You’ve boosted profits. You’ve slashed costs. No wonder you’re bushed! Once again you’ve covered yourself with glory, showing up all those weak sisters who carped about your go-go, take-no-prisoners style. Oh sure, you could celebrate in some fop-filled restaurant with a continental menu selling the stuff that got the people who ate it beaten silly in two world wars, so that guys like me had to go over and save their puckery, ripe-Camembert asses. But why go out? Here’s a rich, satisfying treat you can prepare right in your own office.
You will need:
greens, U.S.-minted, in various denominations
a briefcase or expandable satchel
Toss greens lightly. Arrange in briefcase. Garnish with braggadocio. Self-serves: one.
PRUNE WHIP
Who wouldn’t agree that dessert is the slamming-of-the-door on your way out of a great meal? I said: Who wouldn’t agree? You? I didn’t think so. An old favorite of the Dunlap household.
You will need:
a prune
a whip
Take prune. Whip it. Whip it hard! That’s the hardest you can whip? A big, strapping guy like you? Say to prune: “Who’s the boss here, my little friend—me, or some soft, wrinkly, flatulent-making, dried-up goddamn pitiless-wonder piece of fruit?” When prune has been not just whipped but thoroughly cowed, eat. Savor the sweetness of the moment! God, I love this recipe.
GOOSE (Your Own)
What dish to offer up in sacrifice to a board-turned-ravenous-beast is a question that sooner or later confronts every CEO. Look around you. The answer may be closer than you think. In fact, it may be you! When all the chickens finally come home to roost, what better thing to offer than one’s goose, cooked on an outdoor grill. Serve with a side dish of crow, or even your own hat.
For desserts, see:
HUMBLE PIE
