New Delhi [India], January 14 : Nathalie Dupree was more than a chef. She was a force of nature, a storyteller, a mentor, and a soul who infused the world around her with warmth, laughter, and wisdom. She revolutionized the way the world saw Southern cuisine, not just through her 15 cookbooks or the more than 300 episodes of cooking shows she hosted on PBS and The Food Network, but through the way she lived her life--with generosity, humility, and love. To me, Nathalie was all of these things, but most of all, she was my friend.
We met when I was 27, a young chef arriving in Atlanta to work with Eddie Schonfeld on the Clubhouse restaurant group. Michael Batterberry, the founding editor of Food & Wine and Food Arts, insisted I meet two people: Governor Barnes and Nathalie Dupree. When Michael called Nathalie to tell her he was sending "an Indian prince" to her, I didn't realize how much those words would define our bond. She took to calling me her Indian prince, and from the moment we met in Social Circle, Georgia, a small town with a big heart, we became inseparable.
Her home was alive with stories, steeped in the kind of Southern charm that made me long for a place of my own, connected to land and history. I returned home to my partner, Charlie, and said, "Charlie, we must move to a farm." He laughed, shaking his head at my romantic notions. "Kiddo, this isn't India. This is America. Who will work the farm?" I told him we'd figure it out, but the idea lingered. Years later, inspired by Gael Greene's love for rural life, Charlie and I made that dream a reality, settling on a farm in Hebron, New York. In many ways, that life we built was a reflection of Nathalie's influence--her passion for living deeply and her ability to make even the simplest things feel extraordinary.
Cooking with Nathalie was an experience like no other. She had a way of bringing out the best in food and in people. Together, we created dishes for the Clubhouse menu, combining her Southern roots with my own culinary voice. One of the most memorable collaborations was over biscuits, using a recipe from Brett Bannon's grandmother, Mae Norris, in Florida. Grandma Mae's genius was in her method--using chilled solid fat instead of melted, which made the biscuits tender, flaky, and impossibly airy. When Nathalie tasted them, she said, "Oh, honey, these are better than mine." She celebrated this discovery with the same delight as she celebrated life itself.
Her largesse was evident in everything she did, from the way she cooked to the way she shared her knowledge. She once explained her "pork chop theory" to me, a lesson as simple as it was brilliant. She believed that one pork chop in a pan dries out, but two, three, or four chops cook in the collective fat, keeping them juicy and tender. Similarly, she admired Edna Lewis, another legend of Southern cooking, who taught us that fried chicken is best when the cast iron skillet is full of chicken, "choking the pan." These weren't just techniques--they were philosophies about how food connects us, how the sum is always greater than its parts when love and care are at the heart of it.
Nathalie's heart was enormous, and her spirit was a safe haven for so many. As a young gay man in the culinary world, I found in her not just a mentor but an ally, someone who saw me fully and accepted me without reservation. She once told me I reminded her of a friend from her youth, someone she had loved deeply, and in that reflection, she gave me a gift of love and validation that I will carry with me always. Nathalie was my anchor, my champion, and my sounding board.
Her husband, Jack Bass, was her equal in every way--a partner, a supporter, and a friend to everyone who came into their lives. Together, they created a home that was a haven for creativity, kindness, and delicious meals shared around the table. Their relationship was a testament to the power of partnership, built on respect, humor, and shared passion.
Over the years, Nathalie, Michael and Ariane Batterberry, and I shared countless meals, conversations, and adventures. We traveled together, taught cooking classes, and attended conferences, always finding time to sit together at a table laden with simple, beautiful food. Those moments were about more than just eating; they were about connection, about honoring the stories behind the recipes, and about creating new memories to cherish. Nathalie believed that food was love, and her cooking reflected that in every bite.
Her passing leaves an irreplaceable void in the culinary world and in the lives of those who knew her. Nathalie's contributions to Southern cuisine earned her accolades like James Beard Awards and the title of Grande Dame of Les Dames d'Escoffier. But her true legacy is in the lives she touched, the chefs she mentored, and the joy she brought to so many.
I will always remember her laugh, her stories, and her way of making everyone feel like they belonged. Nathalie Dupree was more than a culinary icon; she was a force for good, a woman whose life was a testament to the beauty of living fully, loving deeply, and sharing generously. Her food was her heart, and her heart was infinite. Nathalie, you will be missed, but your legacy will live on in every biscuit, every pork chop, and every moment of love shared around a table. (ANI/Suvir Saran)
Disclaimer: Suvir Saran is a Masterchef, Author, Hospitality Consultant And Educator. The views expressed in this article are his own.