Food and Celebrities

"The rich are different from you and me."
Celebrities of all ages have always had food made in their honor. After all, they were the ones who could always afford it, and blew inordinate amounts on it.

More interesting are the cases when chefs were so moved so as to name dishes after their supposed inspirers.

Opera singers used to be the Hollywood celebrities of their day and age. Escoffier goes crazy over a soprano, and we are lucky to have two dishes -- "Melba Toast", and "Peach Melba". Next century, a San Francisco restauranteur goes ga-ga, and thus was born "Turkey Tetrazzini", and more recently, "Lamb Kallas".

Movie stars are the next order of business, and hence the "Shirley Temple".

Financiers, in their own way, were celebrities of their time. Hence, "Oysters Rockefeller", and "Eggs Benedict" (the latter a hangover cure after the kind of drunken debauchery that only Wall Streeters are capable of.)

Kings and their mistresses have been naturals for scandal long before the current pileup at Windsor Castle. Thank them for the existence of "Crêpes Suzette".

And every once in a while, an artist makes his way into the culinary vocabulary -- "Beef Carpaccio". The conversion of the latter word into an adjective borders on the absurd, as it specifically refers to the pale pinks in his paintings.

The Rossini roster ("Tournedos Rossini", "Maccheroni Rossini") seems to have waned from the culinary catalog just as his music seems to have waned from the standard operatic repertoire. Perhaps shift of contemporary tastes away from foie gras also had something to do with it.

"They just don't make them like they used to."
Somehow, a "Hilton Hoagie" or a "Anna's Banana" doesn't quite cut it.

They may have the scandal but they lack the sizzle and the sex appeal. Why bother to symbolically consume something when you can get it on YouTube?

And now that chefs are celebrities in their own right, a few narcissistic names may come along. Maybe, "Puck Pockets" or "Natto à la Nobu".

The CC doubts it'll catch on though.

On Naivete

Chefs and food lovers, by their very nature, are born optimists. After all, the thought, "I'll cook you a meal but it will probably be lousy" is not very likely to sit well with an audience, either public or private. The idea of making a commercial career out of the same sentiment can safely be consigned to the failed ideas of history.

The article that set the CC off on this reverie was a recent one in the New York Times where it was revealed with a grand flourish that "truffle oil" was far from natural; in fact, most commercial truffle oils were just "concocted by mixing olive oil with one or more compounds like 2,4-dithiapentane (the most prominent of the hundreds of aromatic molecules that make the flavor of white truffles so exciting.)"

Well, to invoke the vernacular, "DUH!"

The world doesn't produce enough truffles to satisfy the ongoing craze of "truffle oil", and most importantly, since truffles are near impossible to produce commercially (although a few entrepreneurs in Australia are trying), the logical conceit should be that it would be near impossible to ensure a steady supply year after year.

No, no, the CC was distinctly NOT shocked by that particular revelation. What took him by surprise was the surprising naivete of chefs (whom he would've expected to know better.)

“I thought that it was made from dried bits and pieces of truffles steeped in olive oil,” said Vincent Nargi of Cafe Cluny in Manhattan."

Pauvre petite!

The naivete extends to other domains.

Witness the rise of "organic" food. Or as a French friend of the CC's once said in a delightful accent, "Ze French word ees equally stoopide. Biologique! Az oppozed to what? Metallique?!?"

Stare at a label in the marketplace.

"Natural? As opposed to what? Unnatural?!?"

The CC pines to have the first taste of "unnatural" food (perhaps Twinkies qualify?) and has a similar opinion on "unnatural" thoughts (How unnatural could they be if the CC actually thought about them? They could be illegal, distasteful, or even immoral but "unnatural"? The CC thinks not!)

No, no, the CC knows that food is both natural and unnatural.

Take raw ingredients whose sole aim was Darwinian survival from predators, carry out the afore-mentioned predation (this applies to vegetables as well), subject them too all kinds of processes (boiling, baking, braising), and produce an article that ensures both survival of the species and a tickling of the senses.

What could be more unnatural than that?

Cooking, mes pauvres petites, is a deeply unnatural act.

However, there is still something distasteful about the "truffle oil".

Social Consquences of Truth

In case, anyone has not noticed, the CC is sort of obsessed with this semi-fluid line between authenticity, and the lack thereof.

All identities are constructed, and there are tremendous, and powerful social mechanisms in place trying to propagate these constructs. This could hardly be considered a revelation.

However, the social consequences of uncovering people's deeply held beliefs as inauthentic can prove to be problematic.

A few years ago, the CC was having dinner with an aunt, and a friend.

Over Oaxacan food, the conversation veered hither and thither to nopales, and chillies, and how the New World had invaded the Old (foodwise.)

The CC having had a margarita (or two) steered the conversation to how chillies never really existed in Indian cooking (just black pepper), and how tomatoes were a "recent" import to Italy, and from there on to India, and how most of the things that Indians considered "Indian", and Italians considered "Italian" were just New World constructs, and since the New World hadn't been discovered for all that long, how authentic could they possibly be?

Well, the CC was greeted with the same response he would've had, had he just mentioned that he had spent the last evening sodomizing his dead grandmother.

Short moral: talking about food can be dangerous.

Authenticity (or the lack thereof)

Ever wondered what ingredients made their way into Indian cuisine after the discovery of the New World?

Most Indians would consider these "native" but they don't exist in 16th century cookbooks. They are all New World imports.

maize
cocoa
guavas
chillies
tapioca
peaches
walnuts
papayas
peanuts
almonds
potatoes
tomatoes
avocados
sunflower
pistachios
pineapples
cashewnuts
passion fruits
custard apples (sitaphal)
bullock's heart (ramphal)

Whither authenticity?

A True Scholar

Ever wondered what Indians ate before New World food arrived? Ever wonder how it arrived? (answer: two completely distinct routes.)

All of this is based on the scholarly work of K. T. Achaya: "Indian Food : A Historical Companion" (published by Oxford India.)

The book is obsessively researched, and requires a substantial knowledge of linguistics, history (both culinary and otherwise,) and food. There are twenty pages of two-column 8-point references, and an index which requires the full knowledge of Indo-European (and then some!)

It's far from dry; it's funny, witty, engaging, in short, thoroughly entertaining. However, it's a very taxing read. the CC could barely read more than ten pages a day (and the book is 250+ pages.) The CC literally has tens of pages of detailed notes on ideas/references to chase down.

Even the very few facts that are wrong are due to the fact that the research was done after the author died. This is a staggeringly brilliant piece of research. (It clearly is the magnum opus of a lifetime of work.)

(Incidentally, he published a separate book called, "A Historical
Dictionary of Indian Food" just to guide people trying to read this
book.)

The book is completely out of control -- it has in-depth discussion of 16th century Gujarati dishes (what is the formal distinction between naashto and farsan?), documented evidence of what is claimed to be the Buddha's last dinner (and what it really consisted of,) what food terms made their way into Sanskrit from older Munda languages (answer: most of them,) and what chandala really means (answer: dog-eater.)

Anyone who's interested in Indian food simply must read this book!

On Champagne

Madame Lily Bollinger (heir of the Bollinger estate) on champagne:

I drink it when I'm happy and when I'm sad.
Sometimes I drink it when I'm alone.
When I have company I consider it obligatory.
I trifle with it if I'm not hungry and I drink it when I am.
Otherwise I never touch it, unless I'm thirsty.

Shopping with the Stars

The CC is most emphatically not a starfucker.

However, he was tickled pink when he found himself at Kalustyan's, and right behind Zarela Martinez (her of authentic Mexican cooking fame.)

For the record, Ms. Martinez was buying all the classic ingredients of Italian cooking (dried chanterelles, etc.)

Hah! even the stars eat differently than what they're good at.

Asparagus Odors

The CC loves it, but the aftermath is well-known. The body metabolizes it, and the sulphur-containing compounds (thiols and thioesters) are excreted in the urine.

The funny part is that even though everyone metabolizes the product the same way, only 40% of the population have the genes to actually smell it.

Put it differently -- everyone stinks, but only 40% recognize that they stink.

The CC will make the obvious warning about eating asparagus before an energetic bout of oral sex.

Penne with Tomato and Nutmeg

Well, summer is fast approaching so the CC thought he would write up his absolutely favorite recipe ahead of time.

The CC hopes that at least one reader will implement it, and send "fan mail" (or "hate mail".)

Mail is like publicity; bad mail is better than no mail; a stony silence is just boring.

Ingredients

4 lbs cherry tomatoes (quartered)
5-6 cloves garlic (finely minced)
2 tbsp ground nutmeg (fresh obviously!)
olive oil
salt
pepper (lots)
basil (shredded into pieces by hand)

penne (cooked al dente)

Recipe

The recipe is simplicity itself. Your guests will think you worked hard while all you did is be utterly patient while enjoying a dry martini.

Fry the garlic soffrito. The garlic should be a pale golden but NOT burn.

Add the tomatoes; turn down the heat to a very low heat; add in the salt and fresh pepper, and let simmer for at least 40 minutes. (You may need to add a little water towards the end.)

Toss in the nutmeg, and basil right at the end. Serve over the penne.

Food, Sex, and Professionalism

Julian Barnes talks about constructing recipes from cookbooks by famous chefs:

Lesson Two: that the relationship between professional and domestic chef has similarities to a sexual encounter. One party is normally more experienced than the other; and either party should have the right, at any moment, to say, "No, I'm not going to do that."

Precisely!

Parmesan Crisps

Last weekend, the CC and a friend had lunch al fresco up in the northern parts of Manhattan.

The CC encountered an unusual item with his ravioli, a "parmesan crisp". The CC is reasonably sure that this was first invented by Thomas Keller (he of French Laundry fame -- for his "deconstructed" Caesar salad, actually.)

It's quite amazing that this invention has entered the conventional vocabulary of modest (albeit upscale) cafés.

So the CC was curious enough to see how it's made (expect to be experimented upon, ye who eat at the CC's!) Readers, you will either need parchment paper or silpat.

Ingredients

parmigiano-reggiano (grated by hand)

Recipe

Lay the grated cheese in 2-2.5" heaped rounds upon parchment paper.


Bake 8-10 mins at 275F.


Cool for 30 seconds, and lift off with a spatula.

Dirty Tricks

The investigation of umami leads you inevitably into the dirty, dark world of commercial, haut cuisine trickery.

It turns out (and the reason is obvious) that many a fancy chef "brighten up" or "tangify" the flavors by adding a dash of fish sauce (or the vegetarian equivalent, diluted strained miso.)

Nobu's black cod with miso no longer looks very impressive to the CC.

Consider this the haut cuisine equivalent of the average Chinese takeout adding MSG (same scientific principle at stake except MSG is an industrial product.)

Hmmm... the CC seems to have started at a food principle, and ended up opening a can of worms!

The Economics of Food

There was an excellent article on the economics of food by Michael Pollan in the New York Times Magazine a little while ago.

He has provided the entire article on his website: link.

The article asks the correct question (ed: rephrasing is mine)

How can it be that an processed product with 39 ingredients, packaging, shipping, and a marketing budget be cheaper than a bunch of carrots (which are, basically, nothing more than roots pulled out of the ground?)

The article is bang on target, and it pretty much explains why there's such a strong negative correlation between income and obesity.

Gelato outside Italy

This blog has never done an endorsement but the CC is going to make an extreme exception for this company.

They make, hands down, the best gelatos and granitas the CC has eaten either inside or outside Italy, and this Italian boutique just opened a chain up the street from the CC.

Yes, it's super pricy (but cheaper than a flight to Italy,) and it's packed with a line of yuppies out the door (but you get the same yuppies in Milan!)

They are called GROM.

Tomato Risotto with Saffron and Vegetables

Well, the early summer vegetables looked gorgeous, and the weather called for a early summer risotto so the CC complied.

(A conversation with a reader of this blog about this resulted in the reader exclaiming, "umami-rich" about this recipe, and while the CC didn't quite plan that, the astute observation of the reader is both appreciated and commended.)

Ingredients
1 lb shallots (diced finely, or just use the food processor)
4 lbs tomatoes (dunked in boiling water, passed through a food mill)
1 tbsp homemade tomato paste
2 cups Carnaroli or Arborio rice (the CC used the former)
1/2 lb asparagus (tips separated, cut into thin rounds)
1/2 lb young carrots (cut into thin rounds)
1/2 cup tender peas
1 large pinch saffron
olive oil
parmigiano-reggiano
black pepper
dry vermouth (optional)

Recipe

Dilute the tomato pulp with water, and keep it simmering on a low flame in a separate vessel.

Fry the shallots in olive oil soffrito. Fry the tomato paste until the oil separates. Toss in the asparagus rounds, and carrot rounds and fry for a bit. Fry the rice till it is fully coated with the mixture, and the white kernel is clearly visible. Toss in the saffron and then do the risotto thing.

Add a ladleful of boiling tomato broth while stirring. When absorbed, add more, and repeat until the rice is tender.

The asparagus tips and the peas should go in near the end. The CC also adds a dash of dry vermouth towards the end.

The CC couldn't find good basil so he did without it, but ideally he would've garnished it with torn basil leaves.

Serve, with freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano, and black pepper.

Salsify

No, the CC is not further enriching the English language by turning nouns into verbs (a tendency that is as old as English itself.)

The CC came across while browsing through some Southern oyster recipes, and since the CC has turned blasé and so seldom runs across new stuff in cookbooks, he hied himself to the net to find out what this was?

Surprise! It's a plant with roots.


The root supposedly has the texture of carrots, and the taste of oysters (which probably means umami, and now the CC wants to find it!)

Buñuel's Martini

Anyone who knows the CC knows that he loves his martinis, and anybody who knows the CC knows that the CC loves the movies of the surrealist, Buñuel.

This then is Luis Buñuel's martini. The CC is convinced that Buñuel wasn't just a perfectionist in his movies.

To provoke, or sustain, a reverie in a bar, you have to drink English gin, especially in the form of the dry martini. To be frank, given the primordial role in my life played by the dry martini, I think I really ought to give it at least a page. Like all cocktails, the martini, composed essentially of gin and a few drops of Noilly Prat, seems to have been an American invention. Connoisseurs who like their martinis very dry suggest simply allowing a ray of sunlight to shine through a bottle of Noilly Prat before it hits the bottle of gin. At a certain period in America it was said that the making of a dry martini should resemble the Immaculate Conception, for, as Saint Thomas Aquinas once noted, the generative power of the Holy Ghost pierced the Virgin's hymen "like a ray of sunlight through a window-leaving it unbroken."

Another crucial recommendation is that the ice be so cold and hard that it won't melt, since nothing's worse than a watery martini. For those who are still with me, let me give you my personal recipe, the fruit of long experimentation and guaranteed to produce perfect results. The day before your guests arrive, put all the ingredients -- glasses, gin, and shaker -- in the refrigerator. Use a thermometer to make sure the ice is about twenty degrees below zero (centigrade). Don't take anything out until your friends arrive; then pour a few drops of Noilly Prat and half a demitasse spoon of Angostura bitters over the ice. Stir it, then pour it out, keeping only the ice, which retains a faint taste of both. Then pour straight gin over the ice, stir it again, and serve.

Dum

"Dum" or "dum pukht" is a style of Awadhi cooking.

Patience is not just expected; it is demanded. This is slow cooking, and by slow, the CC means very, very slow.

Hours are expected; half-days are demanded; and real connoisseurs (not that there are many left) scoff at the very notion of time.

We are talking "Americans-need-not-apply"-slow, "screw-making-money-let's-be-hedonistic-bastards"-slow, "life-is-sex-food-games-and-music-preferably-in-excess"-slow.

The CC hopes that the lack of subtlety is being felt in rather unsubtle ways.

Which brings us to the second point -- the spices. This is not a "subtle" cuisine; this is a cuisine of kings where excess is celebrated. More is actually too little, and a hell-of-a-lot-more is barely getting your foot in the door.

If there were a cuisine that were to be diametrically opposed to classical French cuisine, this would be it. The irony, of course, is they share far too many of the grammatical and functional traits that make cooking a science (except subtlety.)

Well, the two traits of "slow cooking" and "over-the-top spices" cannot interact, right?

The art of spices is in the smell, and long cooking would dissipate the volatile aromatic compounds that make up what's so desirable about them.

That brings us to the technique.

There is a pot; the pot is filled with stuff (spices and all); the pot is sealed with dough (more on this later,) and put over a very, very low flame (or alternately in an oven at a very low heat.) Ideally, it would be buried in coals, but us moderns, must do as best we can with our pathetic little kitchens.

(On a side note, these modern kitchens are considered progress? By whom exactly?)

Hours/days later, the pot is brought (with the seal) to the table; the king had the pleasure of breaking the dough, which brings us to the "dum" (literally, the "breath" but figuratively, the "first smell".)

Why use dough?

Dough is flexible but impermeable. If made correctly, it will expand but not break; nor will it release the volatile smells that make up the "dum" until the seal is broken.

(You can approximate this with aluminum foil in a pinch but the CC considers it cheating. The CC has cheated before but the CC is aware that he is cheating, and is not exactly proud of himself.)

Well, as for the recipes, you'll just have to keep reading the blog.

Umami

The fifth flavor; it is sensed by specialized receptor cells on the tongue which detect the presence of glutamates.

The best way to describe it is "savory" or "meaty", and it is a major part of virtually every world cuisine except it took till 1908 to identify it conclusively.

Here's a brief list of foods high in "umami":

aged Parmigiano-Reggiano (off the charts, actually!)
aged blue cheese (in general)
anchovies
nam pla (Thai fish sauce)
fresh tomatoes
tomato sauce (with salt -- read below)
boiled potatoes
mushrooms (particularly shiitake)
fresh oysters
fresh clams
dry-aged steak (the only kind the CC will eat)
kelp (konbu -- which is where this was first detected.)
katsuobushi
soy sauce

The flavor is particularly enhanced in the presence of salt, the glutamate ions, and the Na+ ions work in conjunction.

Hmmm... looks like the CC's taste buds are particularly zoomed in on this taste.