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Books |
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if you can't read this, you must be illiterate |
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The Man Who Ate Everything, by Jeffrey Steingarten
Two weeks ago, I received my January issue of Vogue. I somehow ignored the image of Sandra Bullock on the cover, as I thumbed though the magazine in search of food critic Jeffrey Steingarten�s monthly article. I was disappointed to discover that there was no article published this month, and considered discontinuing my subscription. Yes, I am a fashion whore, but all those blurbs about the Hilton sisters and Nan Kempner repulse me, along with Sandra Bullock. Jeffrey Steingarten, you see, is the best thing about Vogue. However, Anne lent me her copy of The Man Who Ate Everything, which will tide me over until next month.
To call Steingarten a food critic is a bit misleading. He�s not a food critic in the conventional sense � he doesn�t really review restaurants. Each month, he writes about far-ranging food-related subjects, from ketchup, water, paella, toro sushi, fruitcake and French fries, to fad diets, Olestra, theme restaurants, helpful hints in the kitchen, and regional foods. He doesn�t just write about these things though � he experiences them through extensive research, which include traveling to all sorts of exotic locales, consulting with experts on the subjects he�s writing about, explaining and applying the science behind the subject, and trying out recipes in his own kitchen. He�s an unapologetic proponent of fat, salt, and sugar � he adores food, especially Milky Way bars, bread, Scotch and beef. The Man Who Ate Everything is a selection of revised versions of articles and recipes that appeared in Vogue from the late eighties through the mid nineties. Simultaneously erudite and self-deprecating, Steingarten manages to educate readers on matters such as chemical changes in ripening fruit, while eliciting chuckles over his travails in his kitchen-cum-laboratory:
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I began by heaping two pounds of flour and polenta on my wooden table, molded a deep crater in the center, broke twenty egg yolks into it and began stirring the eggs with a fork�. As I began to incorporate flour from the crater�s inner wall, a wavelet of egg splashed over the top, causing serious erosion, and when I nimbly scooped up a handful of flour from the stable side of the mound and used it to stanch the flow, the crater collapsed. A torrent of egg yolks, now thick with flour and cornmeal, surged across the table, carried off a pile of chopped garlic and, like molten lava rolling over a Hawaiian housing development, leaving death and destruction in its wake, headed toward my handwritten notes. As I snatched away the notebook, the flood plunged on, lifting two rosemary branches as though they were matchsticks and cascading over the edge of the table and into an open silverware drawer. Cesare never warned me about making pasta near an open drawer�. My wife contended, among other things, that if I had washed the silverware immediately, it would not have taken on the feel of industrial-grade sandpaper. I replied that if laundry science had been my goal, I would not have traveled thousands of miles to a remote hilltop in Piemonte. |
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Steingarten never talks down to his readers (unlike say, Tony Bourdain), and his pieces are very well-written (unlike say, Tony Bourdain). His devotion to researching his subject matter can be a bit extreme (he ponders tripping the fire alarm in a fragrance laboratory to sniff some off-limits pheromones). Some of his subjects are a bit out-of-reach � when are we really ever going to go truffle hunting? How often do we even eat truffles? And his love of fat can be a little scary � �when you have eaten choucroute [a spiced Alsatian goose fat, sausage, bacon and sauerkraut stew] twice a day for five days, your wife�s face turns green, she claims that yours has too, and you both lie immobile in a netherworld between sleep and wakefulness for the next eighteen hours�. The French would call this a liver attack, but they call everything a liver attack.� I�m getting a liver attack reading this, and I wonder if he�s suffered a coronary yet. At the same time, his book makes me incredibly hungry. I think I gained more than a few pounds while I was reading it. Also, since the book spans the late eighties though the mid-nineties, some of his information is a little out-of-date. These detractions are very minor though. The book was so good and informative, I�m thinking of buying a copy for myself, and I�ll definitely read his latest book, It Must�ve Been Something I Ate (a newer selection of Vogue articles). I will also be testing his �Milky Way Swirl Bundt Cake� recipe. I�ll let you know how it turns out. |
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