Tokyo fast food, Italian slow food, and French haute cuisine all walked into a bar... No, actually they all collided together in this completely improbable recipe by Momofuku's David Chang, published here in the first edition of his culinary lifestyle quarterly Lucky Peach, devoted entirely to the idolatrous pursuit of Japanese ramen. The magazine has a studied cool hipness, with many DIY illustrations and even a short story thrown in there (which I couldn't bring myself to read, frankly). It's obvious that the whole thing is a bid for a new television show (that's mentioned a couple of times)--he won't stop at an iPad app. I call this a "lifestyle" magazine because it's definitely hawking a whole way of being toward the world--be like these cool guys! The vibe is very "Hey guys! Look what the cool guys worship and worship accordingly." Worship, of course, equals CONSUME! The ability to get others to consume things is the kind of salesmanship that network producers are looking for in television host, and David, with the help of his pals Anthony Bourdain and Wylie Dufresne (along with some others), is doing his damnedest to show he should be the new IT-BOY TV chef. And I use the term "guys" here not to generally denote people in the usual sexually biased way that our language institutionalizes, but very specifically. This is a quarterly for men who dominate kitchen and palette.The rag is at its best when it sticks to the facts about ramen: the history, regional differences, and recipes for making the dashi and tare as well as the alkaline ramen noodles. There's also an interesting article by Todd Kliman about the pursuit of authenticity in food, as well as a debunking of "Chinese Restaurant Syndrome"--the sickness some report from eating food laced with MSG. But it's at its macho egocentric worst in, for example, the "conversation" between David, Anthony, and Wylie on "Mediocrity." At one point Anthony says something about Italian food that is "ingredient driven" and Wylie says glibly (or drunkenly), that's just cooking--presumably he means that all cookery needs ingredients to cook. Whoa, dude, so you're saying "ingredient driven" is just a tautology? Thanks for the insight. And the less than mediocre logic.
Because it's not a tautology, and this picture (or really, recipe) proves it. The recipe, like most (but not all) of the recipes in the edition, are technique-driven, not ingredient-driven. New techniques for manipulating ingredients (whatever they may be) in order to produce a desired taste, flavor, texture, or product. The ingredients are not ends in themselves. Technique uses them as means to producing taste and a chef's ego. This is food for the Gestell--technology, not food. And it's obviously not about the integrity of the raw ingredients--instant ramen noodles serve as a substitute for the raw flour in traditional pate a choux, which is the base for gnocchi parisienne. It's certainly not about healthful nourishment. This is what gives this cookery its decidedly manly-man flavor. I know this kind of "food" is very de rigeur among the culinary elite, but as a simple home chef who is also very concerned about the health of others, including the non-human and non-sentient others we share this planet with, I find it beyond narcissistic. It's narcissistic on a species-level.
So why did I make it at all? First, I had a bunch of egg yolks left over from the Pistachio Meringue I had made. I was desperate for something to do with them besides make more dessert. Looking at this recipe, it seemed simple and kind of cute. Instant ramen! Cool! But I had been away from ramen too long. I had forgotten how utterly processed it is. The packets of seasoning, as Ruth Reichl says in the issue, should just be instantly thrown away. You might want to disinfect your trashcan too, while you're at it. So I made these little gnocchi and they tasted like tiny pancakes. Something about the thought of them--not so much the taste--did not sit well. I had to resist the urge to instantly repress the whole nastiness of the thing by throwing it away. Since I have a zero-waste policy in the kitchen (or at least that's what I aspire too), the hubble and I were stuck with them. For two nights. So I tried to make the best of it. I went ahead with the planned accompaniment, for which I had procured a very nice brandywine heirloom tomato. Gnocchi meant Italian in my mind, so that's what I had been thinking before I made them. Of course now I was intensely skeptical about the pairing of tomatoes, olives and pancakes. Nonetheless, avanti! Ultimately it was pretty good--at least the pancake flavor was minimized and we finished off the first batch.
Last night I used up the gnocchi as an accompaniment to this spatchcocked braise-roasted chicken. This is a chicken with integrity! We bought it at the farmers market (paid a shocking $19 for it--about 4 lbs) from the farmers themselves, who assured us it had had a kick-ass life on pure open pasture until the day of its sacrifice. I braised it with carrots, Easter-egg radishes from our CSA box (yes, still finishing up the radishes), and a few fingerling potatoes. A little wine, chicken stock, onion and garlic and the jus was perfect, and it went well with the little pancakes. But the chicken was not perfect, unfortunately. The pasture-raised birds have less fat and are stringier than the saline and water pumped industrial birds. It almost tasted a bit overcooked--I might have overcooked it a bit--but really it was just so much leaner than most chicken you buy.
I am very disappointed that my taste-buds have been colonized by the food-industrial complex. I am horrified by the thought that my taste tends toward cruelty. I will now make this my mission to figure out how this kind of bird should be treated in order to maximize flavor and succulence. Must go on a mission...
No comments:
Post a Comment