The Accidental Wino » Molecular Gastronomy

Book Review: “Cooking: The Quintessential Art” by Herve This and Pierre Gagnaire

The Accidental Wino — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 19:59:14 +0000

“Cooking: The Quintessential Art” is an odd little book, but with noteworthy pedigree. Co-authors Herve This and Pierre Gagnaire have each earned their stripes in the culinary realm (the former, as a food chemist and one of the pioneers of molecular gastronomy; the latter, as a three-Michelin star chef and an innovator of fusion cuisine). As contemporaries, This and Gagniere have both forged unique careers by rethinking the basic elements of cuisine. In “The Quintessential Art,” the two authors delve into the very meaning of cooking, by analyzing the culinary arts through a surprisingly comprehensive philosophical lens. Replete with references ranging from Plato to Einstein, “The Quintessential Art” tackles the philosophy of cuisine in a chronological history, beginning with the Greeks and Romans, continuing into the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, and the Enlightenment, and eventually tackling modern territory with folks like the Surrealists and the Bauhaus Movement. It’s awfully heady stuff, to say the least.

It also begs the question: Just whom, exactly, was “The Quintessential Art” written for? On one hand, the book assumes a weighty amount of culinary knowledge from its reader. Gagnaire’s recipes are among the most avant-garde you’ll ever read (or taste), with dishes such as Udon with Raw Ham and Cooked Strawberries, or a Ratatouille of Chanterelles, Eggplant and Apricots. The “recipes” themselves are almost presented off-handedly, but with obvious thought and consideration at their core. Devoid of weights, measurements, or cooking times, Gagnaire’s recipes read more like a loose set of instructions, all predicated on an innate knack for cooking (and, alas, not a single food photo in the entire book). As a result, “The Quintessential Art” seems to be geared partially towards professional cooks, yet on the other hand, the book’s dry, philosophical slant caters to an entirely different demographic: namely, philosophy majors.

As a professional cook with an English degree (and a minor in philosophy, no less), I suppose that I’d fall squarely into the target demographic of “The Quintessential Art,” but I’d be a filthy liar if I didn’t admit to catching myself skipping through certain passages of the text. I’m just being honest. But really, what does that mean for those readers who don’t have a built-in predilection for Aristotle or John Stuart Mill, nor enough experience in the kitchen to follow Gagnaire’s vague recipe methods? I think it’s safe to say that most people — even those who might even consider themselves food lovers — simply wouldn’t be bothered to finish “The Quintessential Art.” Frankly, I don’t feel that anyone would be the worse for it. In a nutshell, I suppose the book is just a bit too lofty to be practical. I will confess, however, that reading “The Quintessential Art” did teach me a fancy new term: “gustatory alliesthesia” — it’s the sensory fatigue, or unpleasantness, from eating too much of the same food (or too much food, in general). Somehow, feeling “full” just sounds mundane in comparison.

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Television review: “Heston’s Feast”

The Accidental Wino — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 01:00:34 +0000

Something old, something new: "Heston's Feast"

It’s been about three years since I’ve lived with a television, although I must admit: living without television today is much less of a sacrifice than it was 10 years ago. These days, I can catch lots of shows online, and DVDs now contain entire seasons of television programs, for long, uninterrupted, commercial-free viewing. None of these options were available back in 1999. Even something like YouTube, which has quickly developed into a mainstream entity today, was completely non-existent.

But even though I can now do reasonably well without cable, I’m woefully out of loop regarding shows like Top Chef, and I must admit that it’s become a little bothersome. Frankly, I don’t know anything about this upcoming season of Top Chef, nor do I know anything about the last season (or the two seasons before that one). I am aware of Top Chef Masters — and duly intrigued — although I haven’t seen one episode of that program, either. To be honest, as a food blogger, I feel a little remiss by not keeping on board the Top Chef bandwagon, but Bravo doesn’t stream full episodes, and I’m not ready to give my life back to cable.

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Considering today’s trends, I should probably write television reviews in lieu of book reviews. Then again, I’m sure lots of people are already blogging about shows like Top Chef, so what’s the point? For now, I’ll just have to let the Top Chef mania pass me by (after all, as I have mentioned before, I cannot be all things to all people with this particular site). However, for what it’s worth, I am recently up-to-date on “Heston’s Feast” — produced by Channel 4 in the U.K. — a five-episode series which may or may not debut here in the United States. I ripped the series from some DVDs that a friend had brought over from England (she had worked at The Fat Duck during the show’s taping — it had aired in the UK earlier this year).

From my own perspective, “Heston’s Feast” was quite an interesting introduction to the Heston Blumenthal persona. As Americans, we don’t ever see that much of Blumenthal, since he really hasn’t received that much television exposure over here (at least, not to my knowledge). In contrast, it seems as though Gordon Ramsay has practically become one of our own, thanks to shows such as “Hell’s Kitchen” and “Kitchen Nightmares” (as an aside, I always felt that the BBC version of “Kitchen Nightmares” was superior to the Fox production, while my friend from England felt the opposite: she liked how the Americans were more likely to stand up to chef Ramsay, which generated more drama, even if they looked foolish in doing so).

In terms of sheer personality, Ramsay is far more dynamic than Blumenthal, and in my eyes, is much better-suited for reality television. However, in noting this key difference, I must add that “Heston’s Feast” is actually pretty far removed from reality, trading real-life drama for something a bit more bookish, cerebral and fantastic (descriptions that Blumenthal himself seems to personify). Each episode of “Heston’s Feast” focuses on a different historic era, and the series presents a modern, molecular twist on some old, long-forgotten traditions. At its core, the program is highly entertaining food television, maybe slightly less blogworthy than Top Chef, but far less ephemeral as well.

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I have read that Channel 4 has ordered more episodes of the series for next year, so for British viewers, “Heston’s Feast” will return to the airwaves. As for us, we’ll have to wait and see if the show is ever destined for an American audience. At any rate, it’s not like you actually need television to access these shows in the meantime. It is 2009, after all.

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Book Review: “A Day at elBulli”

The Accidental Wino — Tue, 20 Jan 2009 08:18:09 +0000

I purchased a copy of Ferran Adrià’s “A Day at elBulli” today, although I wondered if I even had any business doing so. After all, Catalonia’s famed elBulli restaurant is at the epicenter of the molecular gastronomy movement, and Adrià’s culinary techniques often employ chemicals and equipment that would be very difficult to turn up, even in the most well-stocked kitchen. Liquid nitrogen? Surgical tubing? Sous vide rigs? I consider myself pretty far ahead of the curve, especially when it comes to culinary gadgetry, but I certainly don’t have any of these items at home. And who does?

Considering the level of expertise required to replicate one of Adrià’s dishes, I surmised that few people could actually put the recipes in “A Day at elBulli” to practical use. But then again, how many of these fancy cookbooks actually see any time in the kitchen anyhow? Most of these books tend to be cumbersome and unwieldy in size, and to spill something on a $50 book seems like a sin. To be sure, many of these restaurant-themed cookbooks are no more than coffee table books in disguise, featuring lavish, full-page layouts of exquisitely photographed food (what has commonly become known as “food porn” among many circles).

In the case of “A Day at elBulli,” however, it’s only fair to note that recipes, of which there are but 30, play just a small role within the book’s overall content, so this one was always destined for the coffee table. To wit, Adrià’s book boasts nearly 1,000 photographs, which are spread out over a whopping 600 pages. The title of the book is quite literal, as scenes from just one day in the elBulli kitchen are documented hour by hour. Considering that two million people attempt to procure a reservation at elBulli each year (with just 8,000 getting past the door), a book like “A Day at elBulli” may be the one opportunity for the average gastronome to have a peek into this unique culinary world. From this perspective, Adrià’s book may be a bit more egalitarian than it may seem.

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Molecular Gastronomy: Beyond Betty Crocker

The Accidental Wino — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 02:46:43 +0000

Although the term “molecular gastronomy” has been around for about two decades now, I have to wonder if such a movement can ever fully merge with the mainstream. Realistically, it will probably remain on the culinary fringe, although some of the more basic techniques may become commonplace over time. Foams, for example, seem to have already worn out their welcome in the realm of fine dining (I had certainly dealt with my share of them when I was cooking). Still, it is interesting to note the various ways that molecular gastronomy has continued to appear on my radar this year:

• At the moment, one of my good friends is currently knee-deep in the molecular gastronomy movement, cooking under chef Heston Blumenthal at the Fat Duck in Berkshire, England. Working in this kitchen sounds like an amazing experience. So far, I have been privy to a brief glimpse into this world via email, but I have yet to learn the full scoop. In all honesty, my friend can be a little difficult to pin down (I have been accused of the same), and the time difference between California and England is certainly working against us. Eventually, however, I expect to hear about the Fat Duck in all of its glorious detail — what I have heard so far is fascinating.

• Earlier this year, in New York City, another friend of mine answered a posting on Craigslist with “molecular gastronomy” in the subject line. Oddly enough, this ad was actually a ruse to hire sous chefs for new episodes of Iron Chef America. I thought this approach was rather clever, since an open casting call would have attracted a flood of under-qualified applicants. With the “molecular gastronomy” angle, however, they seem to have successfully distilled a select group of chefs. My friend, who was always a much more talented cook than I was, completed a couple of Iron Chef tapings over the summer, but I haven’t caught his episodes yet.

• As for myself, I have been reading “Molecular Gastronomy” by Hervé This for the past few months, having picked up the hard-cover edition on a close-out. The book itself is a charming little curiosity, divided into about 100 chapters, each no more than three or four pages long. The topics cover a broad range of subjects, and the chapters can really be approached in any particular order. For this reason, I have been reading the book piecemeal, whenever the occasion strikes me. I may review “Molecular Gastronomy” here in the future, but there are quite a few books that will take precedence in the meantime.

• For those who wish to bring molecular gastronomy into their own kitchen, I was intrigued to discover that Ferran Adrià has released a series of products under his TEXTURAS brand. The products fall into five categories, some more self-explanatory than others: emulsification, espesantes, gelification, spherification, and surprises. I would love to discuss the virtues of TEXTURAS, but I have no first-hand experience in this area. Still, the website is worth a look, and it offers visitors a small clue as to what’s possible when science and cooking collide head-on. Click here to visit the TEXTURAS website.

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