This went on a whole decade. Then? The rebirth. The story goes that MGM grand in vegas came to him and said "come back, do whatever you want, you don't have to make money."
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A friend in his orbit put words to the things Robuchon never did: social anxiety, general anxiety, fears of speaking a foreign language, all the things we never think of when it comes to these larger than life gods who are really just people with real, quiet fears and battles.
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And today he died of cancer. And I hate it. He had many good years left. His empire was back at full strength. To put it simply, Robuchon had more Michelin stars than any chef in the world. And he was still teaching.
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In trying to describe his importance to you, there is no correct parallel in the world of film. Depending on how you frame Robuchon's story, he is at once Billy Wilder, Steven Spielberg, Francois Truffaut, or Terrence Malick.
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But I will always first think about him being too scared to talk to me, some random customer. And how that makes me feel nothing but empathy for all the amazing people who ever felt the same anxieties. And how passion can be the thing that leads you through. <3
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End of conversation
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