What I'm Eating this Week
So, putting aside the Booker excitement, which I think I finally understand after a lot of mucking about, it's time for this week's installment of "What I'm Eating this Week".
What I'm Reading about Food this Week: The Book of Miso:Food for Mankind, William Shurtleff & Akiko Aoyagi
I have no real problem with the kind of glossy cookbooks so much in vogue at the moment. Nigel Slater's Appetite and Real Food are two of my favorite references. But there's a special pleasure in finding something quirky and unexpected in the bottom shelves of a bookstore, or in the forgotten backwaters of ebay. The Book of Miso is a perfect example.
Sure, there's forty pages of crackpot environmentalism at the beginning. Yes, the authors have a zealot's belief in the power of miso to cure every problem from world hunger to obesity. And no, most of the recipes aren't much good. Here's a hint to those planning books on little known ingredients - if we wanted to know how to make enchiladas with miso, we would have asked.
But none of that means that the book is without charm. It's only after the environmental screed, for example, that we learn that the American author spent six months doing a miso apprenticeship with a master in Japan, and only at the end of the book, tucked behind a brilliant history of miso, do we find instructions to do the same yourself. Lost amid the dozens of ludicrous Americanized uses of miso, furthermore, are some amazing, obviously authentic recipes - dengaku, or barbecued tofu brushed with miso; a variety of traditional porridges and gruels apparently typical of Japan; a neat mini-chapter on the art of broiling the miso itself.
I don't suppose that the The Book of Miso has had much staying power since coming out in the mid-70s. But it shouldn't be ignored. Sometimes, out of the unlikeliest of places, you can find some really interesting things to delight and educate. This book is one of those rare exceptions.
What I'm Eating this Week
Rabbit (chicken) stew with green olives - With apologies for the shortened format, the centerpiece of my eating this week was a delicious stew of chicken and green olives. Actually, as the title above indicates, it's supposed to be rabbit, which itself was a replacement for the fattier duck. But my laziness predominates, and much rabbit these days isn't any more flavorful than the better types of chicken anyway.
Put in a stew moistened only by wine, and flavored by large, unpitted green olives, a diced tomato, and some finely diced onions (along with bunches of fresh thyme), chicken really does wonders. The key thing to remember, of course, is to sear the chicken skin side down before doing anything else, making sure to get the skin brown, caramelized, and crisp. I'm sure there are worse things to do to chicken than to stew it while grey and rubbery, but I can't think of them right now, and they're probably inappropriate for this blog anyway. Actually, it's in this searing that the lack of duck is most felt - chicken hardly ever renders enough fat to lend a strong flavor to the onions you saute directly afterwards. But it's a small enough loss compared to the dish as a whole. And the duck can always be saved for roast potatoes later.
1/15/2005
The True History of the Restaurant
The other day I mentioned that I had a few writing projects keeping me busy, thus explaining my slightly shortened "What I'm Eating this Week" posts. I thought I would post a little something on one of them here for perusal, though this one is way on the back burner at the moment.
The traditional story of the restaurant's birth is tempting in its romance. Some time in the late 18th century, we're told, a maverick cook named Boulanger set up an eatery where he served not only restaurant, a refreshing soup of the period, but also a dish of sheeps' feet in white sauce. Enraged, the guild of traiteurs brought suit in the Parlement de Paris, (a sort of hybrid court/legislature) alleging that Boulanger had trespassed into their territory. Sauces, they said, were the province of the traiteurs. After a series of appeals, the guild won, and Boulanger's naescent effort was condemned by the bewigged manifestations of the royal law. The story always concludes, however, by noting that the damage was done. Boulanger, and the restaurant as universal eating destination, were here to stay.
From the first time I heard the story, I knew it stunk. It just didn't sound like something that was likely to have happened in ancien regime France. Sure enough, a quick look into the subject demonstrated that the best historian of the restaurant, Rebecca Spang, had recently concluded that "this account is, to all appearances, largely unfounded . . . [N]o evidence in the judicial, police, or corporate archives substantiates the story of Boulanger's defeat at the hands of litigious caterers". Spang, The Invention of the Restaurant (2000) at 9. Surprisingly, the reason such a silly fable has lasted so long has little to do with French chauvinistic pride at having invented the restaurant. Rather, it seems that the image of overweening guilds crushing the small entrepreneur was a keystone of French Marxist historiography - an example of how the French Revolution brought capitalism (inevitably to be toppled) to the fore. In the face of that kind of motivation, actual evidence apparently had little weight, and dozens of books have repeated the story in one form or another.
The problem this leaves us with, though, is that we haven't actually done very much to show that the episode didn't happen. In the absence of that kind of proof, I suspect that both politically motivated historians and food romantics will continue repeating this nonsense for a long time to come. Since I don't want that to happen, my idea is to use a lawyer's perspective to get a little better handle on the subject. Specifically, I'm interested to discover if the "decision" as it comes down to us was even in the jurisdictional or legal purview of the Parlement de Paris at all. If, as I suspect, this just isn't the kind of thing the Parlement was likely to have decided, then I think we've got ourselves a pretty persuasive case that the whole thing never happened. Of course, my biggest obstacle is that though I know something about the Parlement de Paris, and I know something about law, I don't know anything about the former's use of the latter. It may well be, in the end, that the Boulanger story is plausible but still almost certainly false. But it's certainly worth a look, especially since, as people note in another context, the trying is a lot of fun.
The other day I mentioned that I had a few writing projects keeping me busy, thus explaining my slightly shortened "What I'm Eating this Week" posts. I thought I would post a little something on one of them here for perusal, though this one is way on the back burner at the moment.
The traditional story of the restaurant's birth is tempting in its romance. Some time in the late 18th century, we're told, a maverick cook named Boulanger set up an eatery where he served not only restaurant, a refreshing soup of the period, but also a dish of sheeps' feet in white sauce. Enraged, the guild of traiteurs brought suit in the Parlement de Paris, (a sort of hybrid court/legislature) alleging that Boulanger had trespassed into their territory. Sauces, they said, were the province of the traiteurs. After a series of appeals, the guild won, and Boulanger's naescent effort was condemned by the bewigged manifestations of the royal law. The story always concludes, however, by noting that the damage was done. Boulanger, and the restaurant as universal eating destination, were here to stay.
From the first time I heard the story, I knew it stunk. It just didn't sound like something that was likely to have happened in ancien regime France. Sure enough, a quick look into the subject demonstrated that the best historian of the restaurant, Rebecca Spang, had recently concluded that "this account is, to all appearances, largely unfounded . . . [N]o evidence in the judicial, police, or corporate archives substantiates the story of Boulanger's defeat at the hands of litigious caterers". Spang, The Invention of the Restaurant (2000) at 9. Surprisingly, the reason such a silly fable has lasted so long has little to do with French chauvinistic pride at having invented the restaurant. Rather, it seems that the image of overweening guilds crushing the small entrepreneur was a keystone of French Marxist historiography - an example of how the French Revolution brought capitalism (inevitably to be toppled) to the fore. In the face of that kind of motivation, actual evidence apparently had little weight, and dozens of books have repeated the story in one form or another.
The problem this leaves us with, though, is that we haven't actually done very much to show that the episode didn't happen. In the absence of that kind of proof, I suspect that both politically motivated historians and food romantics will continue repeating this nonsense for a long time to come. Since I don't want that to happen, my idea is to use a lawyer's perspective to get a little better handle on the subject. Specifically, I'm interested to discover if the "decision" as it comes down to us was even in the jurisdictional or legal purview of the Parlement de Paris at all. If, as I suspect, this just isn't the kind of thing the Parlement was likely to have decided, then I think we've got ourselves a pretty persuasive case that the whole thing never happened. Of course, my biggest obstacle is that though I know something about the Parlement de Paris, and I know something about law, I don't know anything about the former's use of the latter. It may well be, in the end, that the Boulanger story is plausible but still almost certainly false. But it's certainly worth a look, especially since, as people note in another context, the trying is a lot of fun.
1/09/2005
What I ate this week
Waddling Thunder at 01:31 PM
Hey, it's a new year - and, luckily for everyone out there, a new opportunity to hear me bang on mercilessly about food. For now, the format will be much the same as last year, if a little less detailed - I'm busy with some other writing projects.
What I'm Reading about food this week:On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen
With the new edition of Harold McGee's seminal work on kitchen science just on the shelves, I went out and bought the now dated first edition. For one thing, the well preserved used copy I found is a lot cheaper than the hardback in the stores. But even more important, I like having older versions of food books around. As I've said before, my Larousse Gastronomique is from 1964, and it covers a lot of things missing from the newest version. Similarly, McGee's older work is tinged heavily with its native mid-80's. MSG, for example, the formerly ubiquitous chinese food additive, is discussed at surprising length. The American beer scene, now burgeoning in thousands of micro-breweries across the country, is lamented as "blander and more uniform than ever". I can't think of a better reminder of how far we've come.
But apart from historic interest, the book is an amazing compilation of basic kitchen science, none of which is likely to have changed in the past decades. McGee explains why people sear foods, how roasting works, the cellular make up of plants, and the reason avocados go brown when you leave them out. No, there aren't any recipes in here, but even in such detail McGee manages a lively energetic read. I've heard from Will that the new version is just as good. Whether you try to read it straight through, or keep it around as a reference when the mayonnaise insists on splitting, On Food and Cooking is a must.
What I'm Eating this Week
Like most other people, Christmas and the New Year have left me feeling bloated, over-fed, and frankly, fat. I know that a common reaction is to cut down on meats and saturated oils. But in this limited instance, I think the Atkins-zealots are right. The problem with the holidays, for me at least, is sugar rather than fat. Cakes, desserts, chocolates, hot sweet drinks, liquors, glazes ,icings - they're all part of our festive diet, and they're all stuffed with sugar. So this week I thought I would return to the roots of proper eating - butter, cream, eggs, and meat - and use them to dispel some of my post Christmas malaise.
Scrambled Eggs: I've written before about the jobs of scrambled eggs, in an early post on power breakfasts. Seeing that my local supermarket produced some good looking Mitake mushrooms, I fried them in high fat European butter, and then slowly leg my fresh eggs cook on a low, gentle heat.
Pan fried pork loin with salad - there's nothing special about pork loins. What I did want to point out, however, is how easy it is to whip up a quick pan sauce, that can often help the dryer supermarket style pork most of us commonly eat. Once you sear the pork, transfer it to the oven, let it finish cooking, and plate the meat. In the three or four minutes you should give it time to rest anyway, just deglaze the used pan with some sort of wine (I use vermouth, but anything is fine), making sure to pick up the delicious bits of caramelized pork stuck to the bottom, and then whip in butter to taste. The real upside of this method is that the pan is easier to clear. Sauce plus convenience!
Waddling Thunder at 01:31 PM
Hey, it's a new year - and, luckily for everyone out there, a new opportunity to hear me bang on mercilessly about food. For now, the format will be much the same as last year, if a little less detailed - I'm busy with some other writing projects.
What I'm Reading about food this week:On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen
With the new edition of Harold McGee's seminal work on kitchen science just on the shelves, I went out and bought the now dated first edition. For one thing, the well preserved used copy I found is a lot cheaper than the hardback in the stores. But even more important, I like having older versions of food books around. As I've said before, my Larousse Gastronomique is from 1964, and it covers a lot of things missing from the newest version. Similarly, McGee's older work is tinged heavily with its native mid-80's. MSG, for example, the formerly ubiquitous chinese food additive, is discussed at surprising length. The American beer scene, now burgeoning in thousands of micro-breweries across the country, is lamented as "blander and more uniform than ever". I can't think of a better reminder of how far we've come.
But apart from historic interest, the book is an amazing compilation of basic kitchen science, none of which is likely to have changed in the past decades. McGee explains why people sear foods, how roasting works, the cellular make up of plants, and the reason avocados go brown when you leave them out. No, there aren't any recipes in here, but even in such detail McGee manages a lively energetic read. I've heard from Will that the new version is just as good. Whether you try to read it straight through, or keep it around as a reference when the mayonnaise insists on splitting, On Food and Cooking is a must.
What I'm Eating this Week
Like most other people, Christmas and the New Year have left me feeling bloated, over-fed, and frankly, fat. I know that a common reaction is to cut down on meats and saturated oils. But in this limited instance, I think the Atkins-zealots are right. The problem with the holidays, for me at least, is sugar rather than fat. Cakes, desserts, chocolates, hot sweet drinks, liquors, glazes ,icings - they're all part of our festive diet, and they're all stuffed with sugar. So this week I thought I would return to the roots of proper eating - butter, cream, eggs, and meat - and use them to dispel some of my post Christmas malaise.
Scrambled Eggs: I've written before about the jobs of scrambled eggs, in an early post on power breakfasts. Seeing that my local supermarket produced some good looking Mitake mushrooms, I fried them in high fat European butter, and then slowly leg my fresh eggs cook on a low, gentle heat.
Pan fried pork loin with salad - there's nothing special about pork loins. What I did want to point out, however, is how easy it is to whip up a quick pan sauce, that can often help the dryer supermarket style pork most of us commonly eat. Once you sear the pork, transfer it to the oven, let it finish cooking, and plate the meat. In the three or four minutes you should give it time to rest anyway, just deglaze the used pan with some sort of wine (I use vermouth, but anything is fine), making sure to pick up the delicious bits of caramelized pork stuck to the bottom, and then whip in butter to taste. The real upside of this method is that the pan is easier to clear. Sauce plus convenience!
Charlie Trotter, Ultimate Leader
cross-posted at Crescat
I've taken to watching Charlie Trotter's food program on my local public access station - my 13 inch TV isn't hooked up to cable. Before I saw the show, I had put Trotter mentally into my list of over-hyped celebrity chefs, for no real reason. Having watched a few episodes, I have to admit that I was wrong. Charlie Trotter is obviously a master. Whether his skill extends to his restaurants is a question I can't answer without a visit.
Good as he is, however, I get the impression that Trotter is a distinctly odd man. Today, in a little spot between two recipes, Trotter was shown taking aside one of his cooks after a bad day. I expected him to administer the blistering reprimand we expect from our famously hot-headed chefs. Instead, Trotter stared soulfully into his subordinate's eyes, and said - "I want you to become your own ultimate leader. Can you do that for me?". Hey, if it works, it works.
cross-posted at Crescat
I've taken to watching Charlie Trotter's food program on my local public access station - my 13 inch TV isn't hooked up to cable. Before I saw the show, I had put Trotter mentally into my list of over-hyped celebrity chefs, for no real reason. Having watched a few episodes, I have to admit that I was wrong. Charlie Trotter is obviously a master. Whether his skill extends to his restaurants is a question I can't answer without a visit.
Good as he is, however, I get the impression that Trotter is a distinctly odd man. Today, in a little spot between two recipes, Trotter was shown taking aside one of his cooks after a bad day. I expected him to administer the blistering reprimand we expect from our famously hot-headed chefs. Instead, Trotter stared soulfully into his subordinate's eyes, and said - "I want you to become your own ultimate leader. Can you do that for me?". Hey, if it works, it works.
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