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The Taste of Place

The pleasures of identifying unique flavours in food based on where it comes from is something that started in France with regional wine. The French call it terroir, meaning the taste of place adds something unique to certain foods. Even though the idea was conceived in France, it is spreading as a culinary concept as Rowan Jacobsen elaborates on in American Terroir: Savoring the Flavors of Our Woods, Waters, and Fields, taking us through some of the North American regions that give unique terroir to foods around us. He writes: “If you want to tour the museum of old terroir masterpieces, go to France and Italy. If you want to visit the galleries where new artists are trying new things, look around America.” From the southernmost tip of the Central American country of Panama to the northern reaches of the Yukon River in Alaska, this book covers an entire continent. Maple syrup, coffee, apples, honey, potatoes, mushrooms, oysters, avocados, salmon, wine, cheese, and chocolate take on elevated stature as High-Mountain Maple Syrup of Vermont or Totten Inlet Oysters of Puget Sound becoming “great foods that are what they are because of where they come from.” Read more

Literary Food for Thought

Michael Pollan has become a writer of distinction in two ways. His writing is held in high esteem with numerous awards to its credit, and his distinct and specialized focus on food writing has made him an expert in the field (or as Stephen Colbert put it in an interview in 2013 when Pollan released Cooking: A Natural History of Transformation – “Michael, I think you have a food-book problem). Pollan’s breakthrough food manifesto, The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals, came out in 2006 and needs no further accolades after receiving numerous awards, including the prestigious James Beard Award and a nod as one of The New York Times 10 Best Books of the Year. Since then, Pollan has written In Defense of Food: An Eater‘s Manifesto, a continuation of his food studies, as well as a children’s version of The Omnivore’s Dilemma and, most recently, a thin, instructional guide, Food Rules: An Eater’s Manual, on putting his philosophies into action at the dinner table. Read more

Food through the Ages

Most books about food rely on recipes and cooking, but An Edible History of Humanity by Tom Standage strays from these basic functions and looks at food from a different perspective. Food is important on a personal level at breakfast, lunch, and dinner to sustain us on a daily basis, but this book takes a wider view of food looking at its pivotal role in the collective history of humanity. By asking the central question “Which foods have done the most to shape the modern world?” Standage gives us a crash course in history, politics, geography, social change, and economics.

The foods highlighted in the book include basic items: corn, wheat, spices, potatoes, sugar, and rice. These foods act as the impetus for Standage’s commentary on critical events that have impacted civilization as we know it, such as the role of sugar plantations in the history of slavery and how expensive spices in far-off lands lead to global exploration and commerce. Hunting and foraging may have been the first natural method of feeding ourselves, but farming allowed for the settlement of certain peoples, the establishment of societies, and the opportunity for cultures to specialize in crop production. There are many theories as to why farming started out in the first place, the most interesting being that “it has been suggested that the accidental fermentation of cereal grains, and the resulting discovery of beer, provided the incentive for the adoption of farming, in order to guarantee a regular supply.” But regardless of the main reason, food production is a primary occupation of humanity, currently employing 41 percent of the human race in the farming industry, with farmland covering 40 percent of world’s surface. Also looking into the future of farming, Standage teaches us about the Svalbard Global Seed Vault hidden away on a remote Norwegian island, which has the storage capacity of housing two billion seeds as backup to the world’s plants. The vault preserves as many diverse seeds as possible to propagate any species that become extinct through dire circumstances of man-made or natural catastrophes.

“A farmer creates useful things that do not occur in nature. This is done using plants and animals that have been modified, or domesticated, so that they better suit human purposes. They are human creations, carefully crafted tools that are used to produce food in novel forms, and in far greater quantities than would occur naturally.” Farming may seem like a natural process, but it really comes down to human manipulation of seeds, plants, and animals to be produced in bulk. Genetic engineering may be looked upon negatively today, but it is only the latest technological trend in agricultural history that dates back more than ten thousand years, because all farmers have modified crops in some way. Pictures in Standage’s book indicate that modern corn, for example, does not even resemble the natural maize from which it originated.

With the larger quantities available from farming, came the idea to import and export foods (such as corn from the Americas and rice from Asia) to other parts of the world through commerce and colonialism, resulting in the ultimate sharing of local delicacies around the world. The food most sought after in exploration were spices of all sorts, often written about by Columbus as having as great a value as gold and precious stones. Spices had a great allure of decadence and privilege, often mythologized with magical powers, even listed as a preventative measure against The Black Plague. Dutch explorers garnered huge profits in the spice trade to help boost the national wealth and usher in the “golden age” in Holland in the 17th Century. But it was shortly after this that spices seemed to become more prevalent and more affordable, losing some of their lustre as luxury items. “Today most people walk past the spice in the supermarket, arrayed on shelves in small glass bottles, without a second thought. In some ways it is a sorry end to a once-mighty trade that reshaped the world.”

The book also makes reference to many “food fights,” not so much like the airborne cafeteria warfare in the tradition of Animal House, but rather the fight for survival during the Irish potato famine and the role food plays in military battles, such as starving armies into defeat by cutting off food supplies or destroying natural food sources. “We are used to thinking of food as something that brings people together, either literally around the table at a social gathering, or metaphorically through a shared regional or cultural cuisine. But food can also divide and separate. In the ancient world, food was wealth, and control of food was power.” At certain points in history having access to food translated into wealth and power, and food has even been used as currency in certain countries. Money is still referred to as bread or dough echoing back to food’s association with wealth. Sometimes its correlation with power led to unfortunate results, such as the failure of collective food initiatives in Communist countries and how the Soviet Union collapse in 1991 was largely due to the country’s inability to feed its people.

“Food’s historical influence can be seen all around us, and not just in the kitchen, at the dining table, or in the supermarket,” writes Standage. “That food has been such an important ingredient in human affairs might seem strange, but it would be far more surprising if it had not: after all, everything that every person has ever done, throughout history, has literally been fuelled by food”

Cheers to the Season

It’s nearing that time of year when we gather with family and friends to raise a glass to the holiday season. Many of us will be conducting those toasts with a beer in hand since Canadians believe that beer is our gift to the world. Nicholas Pashley could not agree more and he has given us a tribute to his favourite nectar in Cheers! An Intemperate History of Beer in Canada. Even with a rich history steeped in beer, Pashley urges us on as a country to drink more as our patriotic duty to rise higher than twentieth place on the world’s per capita beer drinking list, below countries like Poland and Luxembourg, but ahead of Iceland and Cyprus.

We may not drink the most as a nation, but beer is important to our country. There are those 170,000 full-time employees who work in the beer industry in Canada, and then there are the rest of us who happily support it by spending $9 billion a year. It is an industry known for its big names: John Labatt, Alexander Keith, Thomas Carling, John Sleeman. After the Hudson’s Bay Company, Molson Canada, started in 1786, is the second oldest company in the country. And the big names haven’t been without their controversy over the years – John Labatt was kidnapped for ransom in 1934. During American Prohibition, entrepreneurial bootleggers made a lot of money in Canada, especially in the Atlantic provinces where fishing boats became vessels for transporting illicit liquor to the United States. Even Al Capone set up shop in Moose Jaw to operate his bootlegging tunnels.

As Pashley writes: “It’s a globalized world we inhabit these days, and the beer drinker would be parochial indeed not to try the best brews of the world.” He does go well beyond our Canadian roots, describing the outsider (American, European, and Japanese) influences that have their stake in Canadian beer companies, for example Sleeman is owned by Sapporo of Japan and Labatt by InBev of Belgium. Whether talking about domestic or imported beer, the really good beers raise the bar for our taste barometer and help Canadian beers to be in a constant state of improvement. But he always comes back to a hearty proclamation of I AM CANADIAN, just like Joe says in those old Molson commercials. Not that Pashley is a fan of big names, often criticizing the blandness of the conglomerate products that have succeeded through advertising rather than taste.

He is, however, a stalwart advocate of craft beers that are exhibited at beer festivals and pubs across the country, most notably the big three festivals in Toronto, Montreal, and Victoria where he imbibes in all nature of beers, happily reporting back to his readers. Taste rules his quest for sampling the best beers, but he can’t help but bring up the most interesting as well, such as Polygamy Porter brewed by Wasatch Brewery in Utah (the slogan – “Why Have Just One?”), or the kosher Rejewvenator put out by the Jewish Shmaltz Brewing Company in New York or the green tea beer from the Great Lakes Brewery in Toronto.

Pashley’s witty writing is as enjoyable as his research is informative. Even though there may be an official formula to help explain the “beer goggle” syndrome, Pashley supports the research himself by writing: “I am living proof that women experience beer goggles. I got married, didn’t I? And my wife, thirty-odd years on, continues to drink, hoping to find me as attractive as she clearly did one night long ago in the Morrissey Tavern.” His humour continues in the segments about Prohibition when he offers advice to modern women by saying, “If a man in your life drinks too much, it may be because he’s afraid it’s going to be taken away from him. It’s happened before.”

His topics range from green beer on St. Patrick’s Day to green companies that operate local and sustainable businesses. The book ends with a cross-country pub crawl, hitting all the author’s favourite drinking holes from the Maritimes to British Columbia, becoming what he calls an “alco-tourist” and learning that Yukoners are statistically the heaviest Canadian drinkers of beer, followed by Newfoundlanders. In Winnipeg, he goes to King’s Head pub (nicknamed “The Pub I Would Spend Most of My Time in If I Lived in Winnipeg”) where he tries coffee-flavoured Half Pints Stir Stick Stout. He declares Montreal to be the best place to find interesting beer in Canada and Halifax has no shortage of pubs that serve the locally-brewed Garrison’s Imperial Pale Ale, named Beer of the Year in 2007 and 2008. Not a bad little drinking spree, all in the name of research.

Pashley presents an entertaining picture of a truly Canadian drink and he asks some existential questions along the way, such as, “What brand of beer would you drink if there were no commercials?” or “Would you drink beer if hockey didn’t exist?” His overall answer, of course, is a resounding “Yes!” because in the words of the author: “Beer can make you feel so good about yourself that you begin to feel immortal.”

Famous Food

Food books over the past few years have typically fallen into two categories: locavore and sustainable food manifestos, or excursions around the world to seek out ultra-exotic cuisine. Recently, there has been a new trend looking at food that famous people have eaten throughout history. Andrew Caldwell, known as The History Chef TM, has taken a particular interest in this topic by writing Their Last Suppers: Legends of History and Their Final Meals. Aside from the final requests of Death Row criminals, a last meal is not something that can usually be planned. But it can be historically studied and this book covers 2,000 years of culinary history, based on the final meals of twenty-one historical figures, from Cleopatra to Adolf Hitler to Elvis Presley, the book contains brief and enlightening biographies followed by recipes that are both historical in their own right and useful for trying at home to relive these legendary meals. Read more

A Perfect Quest

After a successful career in political journalism, covering stories like the Homoka and Bernardo murder trial and the dismemberment of John Wayne Bobbitt, Jay Rayner turned his attention to becoming a restaurant critic, thinking that fancy food may be a respite from these heavier topics. One of the first things he realizes in his career change is that “nobody goes to restaurants for nutritional reasons” but rather for enjoying the culinary experience of fine dining. Noticing that high-end restaurants were cropping up around the world, Rayner heads out on a globetrotting menu melee, traveling to find his perfect meal and documenting his trips to seven cities in The Man Who Ate the World: In Search of the Perfect Dinner.

Starting in Las Vegas, when the restaurant scene is graduating from its customary all-you-can-eat buffets to gourmet restaurants, Rayner samples the type of cooking from Wolfgang Puck, Thomas Keller, and Joel Robuchon that is intended to launch Vegas into a destination known for more than gambling. Rayner never strays far from his political journalism background and his trip to Moscow focuses as much on the food as the Mafia-style criminal activity, with restaurants riddled not only with expensive meals, but also the bullet holes of “bad old days of business-motivated assassinations.” Now, to him, the restaurants are a symbol of elitism; the decadence and opulence of the restaurant décor and the uninspiring menu items leads him to believe that “no one cares about the food. Just as in Soviet times, they only care that they are part of an elite who can visit them.”

The book is as much a cultural critique of the countries he visits as a look at their cuisine, such as the outlandish prospect of Dubai building bigger and better things. He is told that food coming into Dubai has quality issues due to Islamic laws, which is absurd given that the Dubai juggernaut (attempting to make the highest drawing tourist destination in the world) attracts the best chefs to run the most exclusive restaurants. He does have issues with the authenticity of the place, however, eating a poor attempt at Swiss fondue as he watches people ski on snow inside a mall in a 74 degree desert. Dubai may be an amazing place, but his food experiences were unmemorable. He can’t even say too many nice things about his British compatriot, Gordon Ramsay, who has set up shop there.

The Tokyo segment was my favourite in the book. Restaurants are so numerous in the Japanese metropolis that they are literally piled on top of each other and Rayner has no shortage of tales about being forced to eat the most unusual items from the Japanese culinary repertoire. He momentarily fears the Japanese chefs are “throwing all the weird stuff at me that nobody ever eats to see whether I’d be too polite to refuse” (139). Rayner does hold a personal philosophy that you must try everything once, if at least to say that you don’t like it, even if it is blowfish sperm, or lavender ice cream in green bean soup, or the trial of eating slimy sea urchin with chopsticks which is “like trying to eat jelly with knitting needles.”

His experiences tend toward the outlandish, garish, and extravagantly expensive. He makes no bones about the conspicuous consumption of modern restaurants; eating extravagantly requires extravagant spending (most often on the business dime of the London Observer). He is flirting with meals that are rumoured to be $1,000 a head in Tokyo, meals that bring to mind “an image of my platinum credit card, that dear sliver of gunmetal gray plastic that had become such a friend to me on this journey, now suddenly belching smoke, Mission: Impossible style, as it came into contact with the bill.”

He delves into the philosophy about why Michelin-starred restaurants even exist if only to please greedy eaters with no limits to their spending. “Travelling the world through its greatest restaurants, in search of the perfect meal, had made me question the point of them.” This questioning of a career that pursues a love of expensive food ultimately leads to one last hurrah in Paris to taste test seven restaurants in seven days. He likes some, abhors others, and ends his last night shaking his head at a $1,250 bill for two. He believes he had flashes of perfection, including L’Astrance in Paris and a sushi meal at Okei Sushi in Tokyo (the $475 bill being the highest he has ever paid for a single meal). Ultimately, Rayner concludes that his quest to write about the perfect meal may go unfulfilled because perfection is based on individual appetites. On a more personal level, he says, “My pursuit of the perfect meal was doomed to failure because I had been conducting it in entirely the wrong company, which is to say, my own.” This is when he returns to his hometown of London, England to dine at several of his favourite restaurants with his wife, making the statement that communing in the right company can make a meal taste better.

It is these personal touches from Rayner’s life that make his globetrotting narrative most enjoyable, whether or not he has more misses than hits at perfection. Even while dining in establishments once frequented by the Rat Pack in Vegas or the Russian first lady in Moscow, he attributes his family’s love affair with food for his good fortune of having a job that consists of eating in restaurants. But what should we expect from a man who tells us that one of his most lasting memories of childhood is sneaking away on a school trip four nights in a row to eat escargot in a nearby French restaurant instead of skiing with his friends?

The X-Files for Foodies – the Lost WPA Files for America Eats

Nearly anything can become more interesting and have a certain sense of allure when found after a time of being lost. Especially when hidden away from public eyes for some reason, as if concealing secrets, like the X-files have done with the government’s involvement in U.F.O. cover-ups. A book by Mark Kurlansky, The Food of a Younger Land, may not have quite the same extra-terrestrial flavour, but the WPA files shed light on flavours of a different sort – the scrumptiousness of regional American cooking. Read more

Eating and Cooking as Storytelling

In the world of publishing, Jason Epstein, who sat as editorial director of Random House for many years, is legendary for his revolutionary ideas in the book business. But he is also full of pithy advice for anyone who dabbles in the kitchen, such as, “Let your taste be your guide” and “Recipes should be more like stories than like maps.” Surrounded by books for most of his life, it seemed appropriate to put these ideas into print by writing a book of recipes and the stories about why they are important to him. More accurately, Eating: A Memoir, is a collection of recipes told as stories, since there are very few measurements in sight and nary a grocery list of ingredients to be found. The cooking instructions offered by Epstein follow more of a narrative structure on how to make his favourite dishes like Lobster Bisque and Egg Foo Yung. These are not the type of recipes attached to your fridge with a magnet ready to be stained with oil or dusted with flour. These are recipes that Epstein hopes you read over a few times, try your hand at, and gradually integrate into your own kitchen storytelling. These recipes teach you that knowing your ingredients is more important than measuring them, and telling stories with your cooking is better than following directions.

Epstein attaches food to memories of his childhood and he has fine-tuned these memories into nostalgic recipes for Prime Beef Hamburgers, Homemade Potato Chips, and Chicken Pot Pie. The recipes in the book are often specific to a time and place for Epstein, but by sharing them with us they become timeless. With some cooking jobs in his past, some of the recipes are learned from his restaurant experiences, others are borrowed from the cookbooks of famous chefs he has published, but they are all perfected by the tried and true methods of a home cook getting creative in the kitchen. Epstein believes trial and error is a better tactic than a precise doling out of ingredients and a personal touch makes a recipe better than a formulaic script.

He may not be a trained chef, but his advice is no less professional and his dialogue with the reader is honest, such as his warning for preparing Penne in Tomato Sauce: “If you turn your back for a minute and the jalapeno blackens or the garlic becomes acrid, toss it out and start over.” And who of us hasn’t used the same line – “The dish is even better the second day, as leftovers” – as he mentions about his recipe for Bolognese Sauce. He is also a thoughtful writer, reminding us on more than one occasion to wash our hands immediately after cutting jalapeno peppers, because any inadvertent touching of the eyes causes searing pain (maybe he learned this first hand, as I know I have. One of the worst things that ever happened to me involved a jalapeno pepper, when I learned it is wise to keep them away from your eyes).

There is more than a whole page dedicated to techniques for opening clams for Clams Casino, but Epstein consoles us by saying, “Don’t be discouraged if you don’t succeed the first or even the fifth time.” Overall, the recipes are heavy on seafood, given Epstein’s proximity to fresh bounty from the east coast waters surrounding Long Island. Out of the forty-four recipes, there are twenty-one centring around seafood, six involving lobster, and we are even given step by step instructions for killing the crustacean before eating it. Epstein assuages us simply by writing, “There is no reason to be squeamish about this” and seafood lovers everywhere will agree the sacrifice is worth the taste.

Another compelling aspect of the book is that the recipes start out very homey, but are mixed with more elegant meals. Most of his forays into restaurants are in his stomping ground of New York and stories are not hard to come by for Epstein from a lifetime in the publishing industry: dining on Shad Roe with Sorrel Sauce with Jackie Onassis at the best French restaurant in New York; cooking Lobster Fra Diavolo for Norman Mailer at his home in Massachusetts; being the first to approach Alice Waters in San Francisco about publishing her influential Chez Panisse Menu Cookbook; enjoying an unforgettable meal with Gore Vidal in France with a salmon dish “so fresh that its eyes seemed to blink when it was brought to the table.” He also delves into his more exotic travels by extolling the virtues of Icelandic lamb and Omani goat. All part of a publisher’s job. But above all else, aside from the recipes and kitchen tips, Epstein illustrates that the events of a life are indelibly connected to food, whether it’s the first meal he prepared after 9/11 or how he has subconsciously, although not surprisingly, designed his kitchen in the same style as his grandmother’s.

Eating Toronto

As Ontarians, are we supposed to take pride in or offence to the nickname of Hogtown for our provincial capital? What are we supposed to think about that section of the city known as Cabbagetown? Is there any deep meaning behind these blatant food references? Editors Christina Palassio and Alana Wilcox have compiled a collection of food essays in The Edible City: Toronto’s Food From Farm to Fork to not only explain how food defines Toronto’s history, but also how a city feeds its citizens and how those citizens can make the best food choices to keep a city sustainable. The book presents dozens of Toronto writers tackling a variety of current topics, such as the debate over opening up street food to healthier offerings other than hot dogs, legislation to protect agricultural land, school meal programs, immigrant workers in Ontario farms, food banks, humanitarian programs to feed the hungry, and food-related activist projects. Read more

Boob Tube Food

Watching celebrity chefs on the Food Network can be as addictive as eating your favourite foods. Television has brought the entertainment value of food from visceral to visual, even though it is quite paradoxical that an entire network serves up mouth-watering dishes that viewers will never eat. Although it may all be just a tease, Kathleen Collins tells us in her book Watching What We Eat that “people love to watch cooking, but it does not mean they love to cook or that they even do it at all.” Collins takes us on a tour of how cooking shows have become top notch entertainment, even though they started out as instructional programs for housewives, and she reveals how a combination of compelling chefs and scrumptious food presentation keeps us tuning in day after day. “The cable network gradually revamped the traditional instructional cooking program, adding live bands, participatory studio audiences, science, travel, and game shows, making the genre a microcosm of television and entertainment itself.” Read more