Culture
At the Bellagio, a gathering of chefs (and Mark Wahlberg) highlights F1’s spectacle
This article is part of the “Beyond the Track” series, a dive on the surrounding scene, glamour and culture that makes a Grand Prix.
LAS VEGAS — A dash of dancing fountains, a sprinkle of star power supplied by a collection of celebrity chefs, and even something to chase it all down with champagne. Welcome to the Bellagio Fountain Club, a perfect recipe of the trappings the Las Vegas Grand Prix offers that makes it the most unique race on the Formula One calendar.
At first taste, a who’s who of chefs coming together just hours before qualifying might be hard to swallow. Ah, not so, says Wolfgang Puck, explaining there are parallels between performing at a high level on the track and concocting a gourmet meal in the kitchen.
“A restaurant is exactly the same as a Formula One team. Both are like an orchestra,” Puck told The Athletic. “It’s exactly the same. Because everybody has to work together and everybody has to help each other. You have to really bring it on because it is also all about timing. In a restaurant, if you have three or four different stations and one order has this or that and you have five different dishes coming out for one table, you can’t have them all coming at the same time. So it’s organization and a lot of training.”
Puck is no F1 novice; he closely followed the European-centric sport as a boy in Austria. Naturally, his favorite driver was fellow Austrian Niki Lauda, who later became a good friend. The mere mention of the three-time world champion’s name causes Puck to smile, with him immediately reminiscing about watching Lauda race whenever F1 visited the street circuit in Long Beach, Calif.
Back then, Puck was a rising chef, on the precipice of becoming one of the first chefs to crossover into the mainstream culture, while Lauda was already recognized as an F1 legend. A friendship was formed, and each time Puck attends a grand prix, it brings back a flood of memories of watching races around the globe.
“A restaurant is exactly the same as a Formula One team. Both are like an orchestra,” celebrity chef and F1 fan Wolfgang Puck says. (Christopher Trim / Cal Sport Media via AP Images)
Puck was also here a year ago attending the inaugural Las Vegas Grand Prix, and he is wowed by how this race became an event, a word he emphasizes because how can a setting like this — the famed Bellagio fountains behind him, and a purposely constructed street circuit that winds through Las Vegas’ famous landmarks — be a mere race.
“I think (the grand prix) shows Las Vegas really in a good way because they race at night,” Puck said. “I really think it’s really an amazing thing to finally have it here. People can come from all over the world. There are more hotel rooms so close by, like I go to the Formula One in Budapest and they have very few hotel rooms, you have to stay 50 miles away in a little donkey hotel. Then, you need to get out of the parking lot. Like this year, we waited two-and-a-half hours to get out of the parking lot. That doesn’t happen here.”
Although champagne toasts and caviar dishes have always been synonymous with the globetrotting sport that races in exotic locales, there is no denying that F1 is presented much differently than it was even five years ago.
Propelled by the “Drive to Survive” effect, the boost in U.S. interest in the sport often credited to the Netflix docuseries, races have become such a spectacle that a gathering like this one featuring nearly 20 name chefs doesn’t feel out of place on a grand prix weekend.
And just as Puck is an example of a more traditional F1 fan, another attendee here represents the other side of the spectrum.
“My daughter. All my daughter,” Mark Wahlberg said, explaining how he discovered F1.
Like so many, “Drive to Survive” was the entry point for Grace Wahlberg becoming infatuated with the sport. In particular, she was drawn to McLaren teammates Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri. Before too long, her newfound interest piqued her father’s own curiosity, eventually leading to Mark, the famed actor, pulling some strings so that Grace could get the chance to sit inside one of Norris’ older cars.
“She has a big crush on two of the guys, Oscar and Lando, and so she wanted to meet them,” Mark Wahlberg told The Athletic. “So me being a dad who likes to make things happen for my kids, I figured out how I could track Lando down and get a car sent to the house. It was cool for us to be able to spend some time together and enjoy something.”
How did actor Mark Wahlberg get into F1? “All my daughter,” he says. Daughter Grace is a fan of Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri. (Christopher Trim / Cal Sport Media via AP Images)
Donnie Wahlberg nods his head and smiles as his younger brother describes how he got into F1. It’s the kind of nod that implies, “I told you so,” because Donnie has long been a fan, discovering the sport and learning its intricacies when they toured Europe during the heyday of the boy band New Kids on the Block.
Donnie has lots of opinions on F1 but little time now to express them all. He has to jet to meet his wife. But before he departs, he wants to make one thing known: He loves Michael Schumacher. And while the debate among fans of who is better often centers on Schumacher, Ayrton Senna or Lewis Hamilton, Donnie leans in a different direction. His vote: Max Verstappen is the GOAT.
Mark gives his own smile as Donnie makes his point, though he prefers not to wade into the debate. Maybe Mark’s devotion to McLaren isn’t quite yet to the level of Grace’s or Donnie’s, though it doesn’t appear far off. Nor is his support mere lip service, instead it comes from a genuine place. He may be here at the Bellagio supporting his other brother Paul, a chef who’s worked in the restaurant industry since he was a teenager, but he’s also here because he’s a fan happy to be immersing himself in the event.
And here on a Friday afternoon atop a structure purposely built so fans could watch cars speed down Las Vegas Boulevard, F1 fans old and new intermingle. The event is all anyone is talking about.
“It’s a global event now,” Puck said. “Back then, Americans didn’t know Formula One. It wasn’t that popular. It’s not like today.”
The Beyond the Track series is part of a partnership with Chanel.
The Athletic maintains full editorial independence. Partners have no control over or input into the reporting or editing process and do not review stories before publication.
GO DEEPER
‘Perfect marriage of speed and glamour’: How Vegas becomes F1’s celebrity magnet
(Top photo: Jordan Bianchi / The Athletic)
Culture
I Think This Poem Is Kind of Into You
A famous poet once observed that it is difficult to get the news from poems. The weather is a different story. April showers, summer sunshine and — maybe especially — the chill of winter provide an endless supply of moods and metaphors. Poets like to practice a double meteorology, looking out at the water and up at the sky for evidence of interior conditions of feeling.
The inner and outer forecasts don’t always match up. This short poem by Louise Glück starts out cold and stays that way for most of its 11 lines.
And then it bursts into flame.
“Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” comes from Glück’s debut collection, “Firstborn,” which was published in 1968. She wrote the poems in it between the ages of 18 and 23, but they bear many of the hallmarks of her mature style, including an approach to personal matters — sex, love, illness, family life — that is at once uncompromising and elusive. She doesn’t flinch. She also doesn’t explain.
Here, for example, Glück assembles fragments of experience that imply — but also obscure — a larger narrative. It’s almost as if a short story, or even a novel, had been smashed like a glass Christmas ornament, leaving the reader to infer the sphere from the shards.
We know there was a couple with a flat tire, and that a year later at least one of them still has feelings for the other. It’s hard not to wonder if they’re still together, or where they were going with those Christmas presents.
To some extent, those questions can be addressed with the help of biographical clues. The version of “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson” that appeared in The Atlantic in 1967 was dedicated to Charles Hertz, a Columbia University graduate student who was Glück’s first husband. They divorced a few years later. Glück, who died in 2023, was never shy about putting her life into her work.
But the poem we are reading now is not just the record of a passion that has long since cooled. More than 50 years after “Firstborn,” on the occasion of receiving the Nobel Prize for literature, Glück celebrated the “intimate, seductive, often furtive or clandestine” relations between poets and their readers. Recalling her childhood discovery of William Blake and Emily Dickinson, she declared her lifelong ardor for “poems to which the listener or reader makes an essential contribution, as recipient of a confidence or an outcry, sometimes as co-conspirator.”
That’s the kind of poem she wrote.
“Confidence” can have two meanings, both of which apply to “Early December in Croton-on-Hudson.” Reading it, you are privy to a secret, something meant for your ears only. You are also in the presence of an assertive, self-possessed voice.
Where there is power, there’s also risk. To give voice to desire — to whisper or cry “I want you” — is to issue a challenge and admit vulnerability. It’s a declaration of conquest and a promise of surrender.
What happens next? That’s up to you.
Culture
Can You Identify Where the Winter Scenes in These Novels Took Place?
Cold weather can serve as a plot point or emphasize the mood of a scene, and this week’s literary geography quiz highlights the locations of recent novels that work winter conditions right into the story. Even if you aren’t familiar with the book, the questions offer an additional hint about the setting. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the books if you’d like to do further reading.
Culture
From NYT’s 10 Best Books of 2025: A.O. Scott on Kiran Desai’s New Novel
When a writer is praised for having a sense of place, it usually means one specific place — a postage stamp of familiar ground rendered in loving, knowing detail. But Kiran Desai, in her latest novel, “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny,” has a sense of places.
This 670-page book, about the star-crossed lovers of the title and several dozen of their friends, relatives, exes and servants (there’s a chart in the front to help you keep track), does anything but stay put. If “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” were an old-fashioned steamer trunk, it would be papered with shipping labels: from Allahabad (now known as Prayagraj), Goa and Delhi; from Queens, Kansas and Vermont; from Mexico City and, perhaps most delightfully, from Venice.
There, in Marco Polo’s hometown, the titular travelers alight for two chapters, enduring one of several crises in their passionate, complicated, on-again, off-again relationship. One of Venice’s nicknames is La Serenissima — “the most serene” — but in Desai’s hands it’s the opposite: a gloriously hectic backdrop for Sonia and Sunny’s romantic confusion.
Their first impressions fill a nearly page-long paragraph. Here’s how it begins.
Sonia is a (struggling) fiction writer. Sunny is a (struggling) journalist. It’s notable that, of the two of them, it is she who is better able to perceive the immediate reality of things, while he tends to read facts through screens of theory and ideology, finding sociological meaning in everyday occurrences. He isn’t exactly wrong, and Desai is hardly oblivious to the larger narratives that shape the fates of Sunny, Sonia and their families — including the economic and political changes affecting young Indians of their generation.
But “The Loneliness of Sonia and Sunny” is about more than that. It’s a defense of the very idea of more, and thus a rebuke to the austerity that defines so much recent literary fiction. Many of Desai’s peers favor careful, restricted third-person narration, or else a measured, low-affect “I.” The bookstores are full of skinny novels about the emotional and psychological thinness of contemporary life. This book is an antidote: thick, sloppy, fleshy, all over the place.
It also takes exception to the postmodern dogma that we only know reality through representations of it, through pre-existing concepts of the kind to which intellectuals like Sunny are attached. The point of fiction is to assert that the world is true, and to remind us that it is vast, strange and astonishing.
See the full list of the 10 Best Books of 2025 here.
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