Ebon Moss-Bachrach’s kitchen is untidy. So untidy that his people hop on the video call from Brooklyn to tell me Moss-Bachrach would prefer to have his camera switched off. Which is a shame. I really want to see the carnage in his kitchen. I imagine smoking pans, pizza dough dripping from the ceiling and me yelling across the internet: “Dude, your toque’s on fire!”
But Moss-Bachrach won’t let me glimpse the real-life chaos. “My house is a mess,” he says. “I’ve just been baking a bunch of stuff. Dirty stuff everywhere, pots and stuff. So I feel a little exposed. I promise you, you’re dodging a bullet.”
