I'm thinking about somewhat expensive meals I've had out in trendy restaurants in 2010. I don't eat like that often, since I cook and tend to favor more traditional foods. But as much as I love grandma cooking I can't bury my head in the sand. There's a big culinary world outside my door, and I won't pretend it doesn't exist. Unfortunately I'm seeing quite a bit bandwagon hopping, brought on by the economic downturn. Something works for one place and it's immediately copied ad nauseum. I'm all for innovation from the very few who can be innovators; I can do without watered-down copycats. But they seem to be everywhere in one form or another. Here are some of their crimes I've noticed this year:
Asian fusion - When it happens organically we get brilliant things, like Vietnamese sandwiches, Japanese curries, Thai food, Korean tacos and Sriracha sauce. In the hands of inspired and talented chefs we get some of the top restaurants in the country, offering exciting flavors and signature dishes. But as a concept in less expert hands it leads to gimmicky, overpriced food. A recent example I suffered through was Asian fusion Southern BBQ soul food. Japanese pizza makes more sense to me, and that's not saying much.
"Gourmet" junk food - A good burger is a good thing, so don't make it a con job. Anyone who sources their meat well and treats it with respect can turn out a good burger. When restaurants start duping the gullible by throwing supposed Kobe beef into a meat grinder and charging high dollars for the destroyed result I'm going to take offense. Same goes for posh places offering "sliders" as appetizers. It's not cute; it's infantile. Don't mess with pizza, either. I have no problem paying over $20 for a pie with a perfect crust and top shelf ingredients lovingly fired in a wood burning oven. But charging that much for a so-so pizza just because someone decided to express themselves by piling it high with silly toppings? That's not only insulting your customers, you're insulting the very concept of pizza. Honest junk food made from good ingredients is a delicious indulgence. Tarting it up and trying to pass it off as fine food is a con job.
Pork belly - I love pork in all of its wonderful forms, belly included. I'm happy it made something of a comeback, and I'll indulge a few times a year. But I don't need to see it on every menu. It's getting a little tiresome.
Ridiculous portion sizes - If I want tapas, meze or dim sum I'll go to places that specialize in such. But if you're going to charge me $12 for three mini-tacos because your concept is "Mexican tapas" I'm going to call you a rip-off artist. Reasonable portions, please. This cuts both ways: if I order an appetizer and a main, and am too stuffed to do more than pick at the main there's a portion control issue, unless it's obvious that dishes were meant to be shared. Unless I'm there for a tasting menu I don't expect to waddle out of a restaurant in pain. And if I have to order four or five items to make a meal I expect there to be at least a vague correlation between the prices and the quality of what arrives at the table. Calling it "tapas" is not an excuse, unless what you serve is actually tapas.
Over salting - I'm not anti-anything, with the exception of low end commercially processed food. Fat is fine. Carbs are fine. Sugar is fine. Salt is fine, too. I expect restaurant food to be saltier than home cooking. When I go out for ramen I know I will consume twice the recommended daily salt intake in half an hour. But I don't expect to be unsure whether the burn in my mouth is from chili peppers or salt, which has happened in more than one popular NYC restaurant. I don't expect to go to a place famous for meticulously sourced ingredients prepared simply, only to find more than one dish nearly inedible because an unsure hand in the kitchen got too enthusiastic with the salt. Salt brings flavor to life, and an extra pinch improves simply prepared food. There is a point of diminishing return, though, and acknowledgment of it would be nice. I know making the food a little extra salty boosts wine sales, and I expect that from a wine bar. I prefer a little more restraint from a restaurant.
Cocktails with food - The fancy cocktail trend is well past its peak. I haven't heard the word "mixologist" in over a year, and I'm thankful for that. So I must voice my disapproval of those who try to prop up this waning fad by suggesting food/cocktail pairings. I'm sure that's great for people who don't like to taste their food, but for the rest of us the idea is laughable.
The "locavore movement" - Now that organic is nearly meaningless people need something to hold onto. So let's take a few things that make sense, such as eating seasonally and favoring locally produced foods, then build some misguided ethos out of it. No thanks. I have no plans to do without my coffee, wine, olive oil, citrus and spices, and have no desire to be part of any "movement". See you at the farmer's market.
Abuse of truffle oil - Oil is the poor man's way to get some truffle flavor into a dish. Yes, it can make your mashed potatoes ethereal, and turn a simple plate of grilled asparagus into a fine starter course. When did it become a commonplace thing, and should we be happy about it? I've only had real truffles a few times in my life, but the oil seems to be everywhere. I don't approve. It's kind of like passing off lumpfish roe as caviar, eating it often, then becoming jaded to the wonder of the real stuff. Or drinking so much prosecco in cans (yes, they sell it in cans) that you lose the ability to appreciate champagne. Hopefully the recent steep decline in truffle oil quality will return truffle flavor to the rare pleasure it once was. As tasty as they may be, a side of truffle fries sitting next to your $25 dollar hamburger is silliness. So is a $10 egg on toast flavored with the stuff. Enough already.
Wildly overpriced Mexican in NYC - I know that good inexpensive Mexican food in this town usually requires a trip to unfashionable neighborhoods. And I appreciate the handful of places that serve truly high end Mexican food. What I can't stand is places that are little more than mediocre taquerias, priced as if they were fine dining establishments because of their location in trendy neighborhoods and the fact that they pour top shelf tequila. I can practically hear the laughter from the left coast, and I'm ashamed for my fellow New Yorkers. This has got to stop.
My fear for 2011 - Sugar. In everything. Sweet sauces everywhere. Meat never served without a sweet wine reduction, a fruity sauce or some kind of sugary Asian fusion rub/dipping sauce. Wine lists will run in the opposite direction, moving toward flinty, mineral wines without a hint of residual sugar, making the sweet food completely unable to pair with anything on the list. And everyone who just graduated from waiting in line for Shake Shack will think it's wonderful.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Worth a Read: Luard's European Peasant Cookery
My buddy Richard Priest happens to be something of a polymath, in addition to being one of the best tour managers in the business (also business manager, aspiring producer and most recently, a welder). This man endures my endless talk of food with the patience of a saint, setting aside chunks of his precious downtime to join me for walks around Chinatown, where we seek out holes in the wall serving delicious meals for pocket change. His fluency in Mandarin gives him a better picture than I'll ever have of the goings on around us. (I have only a handful of sentences in Cantonese). Every now and then he honors me by being a guest at my table.
One such night Richard gifted my wife and me a copy of Elisabeth Luard's excellent book: European Peasant Cookery. This book is not breaking news. It was published in 1986. The recipes are for foods that are hundreds to thousands of years old, covering cuisine from Norway to Turkey. It's more than a collection of recipes - it is a great read. Luard can write, and chooses to preface most recipes with engaging descriptions of the land and the people, putting the recipes in cultural context. No surprise this woman has had over ten books published! This one is both inspiring for the cook and, I would guess, a pleasure for anyone interested in reading about food.
European Peasant Cookery provides the reader with a vibrant mental map of traditional cuisines across Europe. For me this not only brings back memories of meals I've had while traveling, but it adds new must tries to the list for future travels. Traditional food pairings are sketched out as well, which is great for those who appreciate thematic continuity at the table.
Then there are the recipes themselves: all bulletproof. Luard puts them in context, mentioning a few variations and common substitutions. By the time I set out to cook I don't even need to refer back to them; they seem as obvious as if I'd learned them from my grandmother. Sure, some of them are beyond the scope of what I plan on doing in my NYC apartment. As of yet I have no plan to cure my own ham or bacon, for example. Nor will I be making my own skyr (Icelandic farmer's cheese), though I wouldn't put that past my wife, who already makes her own buttermilk. Let's face it, cooking at home is much more enjoyable when you're inspired. And the recipes in this book cover so much ground it's easy to open to a random page and find inspiration. Lots of "I can do that" moments here, which lead to, in my case, casually deciding to make a Spanish (or Norwegian, or Greek, or German) meal. Luard even gives the reader a handle on the seasonality of the dishes.
Some future posts to this blog are bound to come from playing around with the recipes in European Peasant Cookery. It already inspired the fish stew post. (Lately I've been obsessed with fish - the first 90 pages of this book are on seafood, and they're becoming increasingly well-thumbed).
One such night Richard gifted my wife and me a copy of Elisabeth Luard's excellent book: European Peasant Cookery. This book is not breaking news. It was published in 1986. The recipes are for foods that are hundreds to thousands of years old, covering cuisine from Norway to Turkey. It's more than a collection of recipes - it is a great read. Luard can write, and chooses to preface most recipes with engaging descriptions of the land and the people, putting the recipes in cultural context. No surprise this woman has had over ten books published! This one is both inspiring for the cook and, I would guess, a pleasure for anyone interested in reading about food.
European Peasant Cookery provides the reader with a vibrant mental map of traditional cuisines across Europe. For me this not only brings back memories of meals I've had while traveling, but it adds new must tries to the list for future travels. Traditional food pairings are sketched out as well, which is great for those who appreciate thematic continuity at the table.
Then there are the recipes themselves: all bulletproof. Luard puts them in context, mentioning a few variations and common substitutions. By the time I set out to cook I don't even need to refer back to them; they seem as obvious as if I'd learned them from my grandmother. Sure, some of them are beyond the scope of what I plan on doing in my NYC apartment. As of yet I have no plan to cure my own ham or bacon, for example. Nor will I be making my own skyr (Icelandic farmer's cheese), though I wouldn't put that past my wife, who already makes her own buttermilk. Let's face it, cooking at home is much more enjoyable when you're inspired. And the recipes in this book cover so much ground it's easy to open to a random page and find inspiration. Lots of "I can do that" moments here, which lead to, in my case, casually deciding to make a Spanish (or Norwegian, or Greek, or German) meal. Luard even gives the reader a handle on the seasonality of the dishes.
Some future posts to this blog are bound to come from playing around with the recipes in European Peasant Cookery. It already inspired the fish stew post. (Lately I've been obsessed with fish - the first 90 pages of this book are on seafood, and they're becoming increasingly well-thumbed).
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