Carrot Top

I try to avoid work. As a matter of fact right now I'm trying to avoid work and better hop to it. It's a shame that one can't just read and cook (or eat) all day long. ........................ Actually I just picked up a book-that-has-aged-gracefully from the library. It does have a peculiar sense of its own time about it, like a seventy year old hippie who still ties a bandana over their trailing long (now grey) hair, but what is inside it is good. Bert Greene "The Grains Cookbook". Really good compilation of recipes and information. Still worthy after all these years.

Mmm. Sherry, I do not know any woman who can get away with really saying with full veracity that all she ever does is read. But it is a wonderful thing to aim for to be sure. What a block-buster of fabulous books you mentioned in your very first post! Some I have not read and will now have to take a look at. As they say, one can never be too rich or have too many books.

This might be nice to use as placemats. I'm pretty sure Kinko's or someplace like that could enlarge it and adjust clarity (or however you say it ) then print on suitable paper. "The Seven Deadly Sins" is the name of the painting. It would be interesting to have a seven-course meal with each course representing a sin . . . or alternately (and more easily) seven things on a large plate, each one metaphorically representing the sin from the painting, placed in the same order on the circular plate as it was painted on the circular painting . . . This is getting pretty far away from the original question of spaghetti and meatballs, but it's fun to imagine, anyway.

There's also a recipe for chocolate and nut "pepperoni" that I've used before on a surreal pizza (sweet short dough, raspberry jam, white choc "mozzarella" and the chocolate "pepperoni") that could be used for the meatballs in a sweet or sweet and savory version of spaghetti and meatballs. My favorite table decoration is the orange with a small black face mask on it stabbed with a small knife hanging out of it dripping pomegranite juice blood.

You could put the pasta (and meatballs if you wanted) into individual covered tarts. If there was no printed menu most people would think they were getting chicken pot pie. The sauce could be a bright green herbed one . . . Blue is startling. Moving a bit further away from traditional pasta and meatballs, a low flat bowl of clear turquoise colored "broth" made from gelatin and flavored with extracts or flavorings could hold wavy perciatelli strands topped with tiny pink fish cut-outs made from a dense seafood forcemeat . . . Alex's idea could be taken further by use of gnocchi dough molded then gently poached into larger shapes. Three or four to fill a plate or perhaps one singular larger one. But you'd really have to be sure of knowing your guest's reactions before trying this.

Often, aside from ingredients, I do not measure time when cooking. All of a sudden, you just know its done. I have a friend who has a different way of measuring readiness when it comes to making pilafs (she is Persian). She says she knows when the pilaf has reached perfection by quickly tapping the side of the hot pot near the top with a finger she just touched to her tongue. If the finger is not completely dry when taken away from the pot, the rice is not yet done. If it dries instantly, the rice is done. She claims she has seen lots of people do this.

It would take a critic willing to risk pushing the envelope to do that. With an editor/publisher behind them who had enough certainty that their particular audience would want to read it. I don't know enough about critics currently writing to even hazard a guess but am having fun considering which countries it would possibly occur in first, and why. Interesting to consider how the piece would be shaped when written, too. Aside from drawing parallels between this and that tradition and methodology and pulling rabbits out of history's hats to display with a winning yet silent grin, would the critic talk turkey about food? Would they say things like Adria's rendering was an epiphanic volcano of sheer pleasure that rocked my previously dull and despairing tastebuds to skitter into a quick and humble bow followed by a lengthy and ardent kowtow as they prayed beseechingly for more of this delightful dish. Would art critics start the sideways slide into being foodwriters? ................................................................................... After the inspiration of your paper mache idea sprouted into its subsequent nonsense, naturally Dali's cookbook came to mind, and the dinners from it. One wonders where that stands in terms of "what it is". Both the cookbook and the cooking/food expressed from it. Is it a cookbook written by an artist? Is it art shaped as a cookbook and food? Or has it landed in the Twilight Zone of definition?

One gain (apart from whatever lands directly on Adria) is that one more small step has occured in the world of cooking to move the work of cooking towards being considered a profession rather than a trade by society-at-large.

quote paulraphael I like the idea of a huge paper mache (but not really paper mache, just something edible that looked like it) carrot with some greens attached laying in the center of a knife-worn large wooden plate (a plate that looked very Old Dutch). The large plate with the huge carrot would be placed in front of the diner and when they took up their oversized silver cutlery to eat it (as everyone knows you have to show good manners in restaurants - it would be terribly wrong to pick up the thing with your hands and chomp on it like Bugs Bunny) the taste would be of something else other than carrot. Sauerbraten maybe. Baby paper mache purple-black eggplants would be nice too. Four or five of them on a those large wooden plates, each with a different flavor. Licorice. Pickled herring. Lemon mousse. Marshmallow fluff. And of course one that just tasted like plain eggplant. Or one that actually was just plain eggplant. This concept would have to be thought of (if it were thought of at all by anyone) as being more in the mode of surrealism than conceptual art though, for it would be too absolutely dreary to try to write a serious manifesto for it.

How beautifully ironic that it was a shovel. Now if he had been a chef it might have been the more delicate spoon.

Wow. Just as I was giving up on finding anything on this ekmegi that would show that it existed in the form I thought she described, I decided to check Wikipedia on Turkish cuisine. There is yet hope.

Excellent find, that film, Adam. What an incredible oven! I am beginning to think that the "ekmegi" she was trying to describe to me is similar to pide. Possibly when she said "cornmeal in the bread" she might have been referring to the bit of coarse semolina that can cling to the bottom. And also possibly she may have been talking about two different varieties of this "pizza" - not sundried tomatoes, anchovies, spinach and parsley all together on one bread but two varied combinations: the first the tomatoes and anchovies, the second the spinach and parsley. That would seem to make sense. So far I can not find any reference to all these things put together on a maize-enhanced crust, so it may have been the language barrier which created the pizza I thought existed. I'll ask her next time I see her. Well. I still think it sounds good whether it was real or not.

Does "ekmegi" mean bread in a broad sense I wonder or does it mean bread where cornmeal is part of the dough? When she was talking about this, she drew a map of Turkey and gave me a geography lesson about all the countries that surround it, bodies of water that touch it, with footnotes of history attached. That part was all quite clear. But when it came to the recipe questions I posed her, as can happen, things got vague. But I do remember she was pointing on the map drawn with pen on white blue-lined index paper with her well-manicured finger while she spoke of this specific ekmegi with such pleasure - her finger tapping again and again on the northwest corner of Turkey, on the edge of the Black Sea. But that finger was insisting on my geography lesson, forget about recipes. It sounded to me to be similar to a nicoise tomato-based tart without the olives baked onto a yeasted cornmeal based bread. I wouldn't be surprised if there are variations using chickpea flour too . . . I don't know why, but it just sounds as if it should be so considering the relationships/histories/geography. At any rate, it sounded really good.

Quote docsconz: It was circular to me in that moment, doc, because I was struggling to defend a concept that had seemed right to me at the time I was thinking it. I had to stop for a moment and use my mind in a clear way instead of an emotional way in order to find my way to thinking of an artist is an artist because they say they are. I can find two excuses for my mind being resistant to this idea - one is that the art world in NYC that I lived in which was composed of working/showing artists, vital galleries, and the critics and curators who interlaced it in the 70's and 80's was teetering on the edge of saying clearly (as a concept) that an artist is an artist because they say they are . . . but the inevitable judgement of quality of any art piece was done in the exact same thought. There was "Is this art? Is he/she an artist? Does this suck or not?" all in one breath, without separation as has now seemed to develop based on the accounts being given here. I never had the experience of thinking that a weekend artist who painted or who did whatever they did on a clearly amateur level could be considered a "real" artist, because my concepts of art were formed from within the art world at that place and time, and the snottiness level of the professionals was marvellously high. Any work that did not hit a certain level was dismissed with a snort of supreme derision by those that inhabited this world, along with all the bourgeois qualities that it seemed to represent. So wrapping my mind around the idea that anyone who says they are an artist is an artist was difficult for me based on this history. After thinking about it and letting the idea seep around a bit in my mind, I can see that it would be a likely next step in what was happening in the art world, though. It makes sense. My second excuse is that I have not paid much attention to all this in recent years, so this is a wonderful learning experience. You were in agreement, doc, and I am too. The two points that most interest me are in bold above. The first is worthy of thought, even in the Adria scenario. The second one . . . I have to say that I distinctly remember photographers and video artists who actively pursued the artworld as much or more than the artworld pursued them, so I think it was a two-way dance in many cases. There was a lot of pounding on the door to be let in. Which ties into the Adria thing too for one has to wonder just for the wondering of it whether he did or did not, subconsciously or consciously, take Marinetti into his bag of tools when he set out to do his art, which he does not call art but cooking. I have a thing for seeing how things work in a detailed fashion, aside from trying to decide what they are. Call it a choreography fetish maybe. ............................................. Paul: You've done a fantastic job of making clear what your points are about "being an artist" . The only side note that I do have to make is that I must assume that the concept of validity and the word itself as applied to specific genres of art or to art history within the art world must have been in the pages of Artforum magazine as late as the 70's and 80's (the 70's and 80's of the 1900's that is ) and it must have been used in discussion by those who read Artforum as something meaningful to discuss at that time . . . as otherwise I never would have been exposed to the concept of validity within this context, as outside of being there then and reading a lot during that period I have absolutely no formal or informal exposure to the art history or theory in extended or historic readings. So it may have been that people stopped using the word as you say . . . but within "the last century" that is really "the end of the last century". Which (to me) does not really seem to be all that long ago.

I wrote a very long response to your post, Paul, then tried to edit it and then realized that there was some sort of circular logic going on in your posts that was inescapable. Momentarily, anyway. It will be interesting to hear more commentary on all this.

Someone recently described to me (with much delight, and it did sound delicious ) a Turkish sort of "pizza" or topped (cornmeal-based) bread. Her name for it was ekmegi but the references I've found to ekmegi so far are much simpler than her description. The toppings on the ekmegi she descibed were hamsi (which I believe is anchovies?), sun-dried tomatoes, spinach and parsley. Is this a particular regional variation on ekmegi? What other variations exist if any? I'd love to try to sort out a recipe, too, if anyone knows where to find one. This is not a recipe she (or anyone she knew) made at home, but more a "streetfood".

Agreed that it is confusing, Paul. Anything worthwhile and above the basics of existence often is. And each of us will have our own ways of approach to answering these questions for ourselves. I can see your point but it is a softer worldview than mine. It is less demanding. And in some way you are focused on looking at the player as individual, I think, whereas I am focused on looking at the player within the playing field. It is nice to think of everyone who works at art as being an artist, and it is true, too. But only a small percentage of that art will be graded as momentous and important or even "valid" by those who judge from within the milieu . And those people who judge are those who are considered the most expert, the most knowledgeable about their own milieu. And that critical analysis and acceptance or not will generally provide financial and community support for the work that they grade. I hand it to Adria for having passed these critical tests at least in one instance. It will be interesting to see what happens in the future both with his work and with those with similar intent or shape in their work. Will others be invited into the 'art world'? Why or why not? A fascinating saga. According to this you wrote above, Adria in your opinion is an artist because he endeavors to make art? Nothing more nothing less? Would any or all other cooks or chefs who endeavor to make art be equal to him in terms of being an artist then? The critical apparatus is being used no matter whether it is separating or including in any category . . . whether that category is the one of "what one is" or whether it is in terms of "how well one does it". Apply the mind to something and one has already applied the critical apparatus in some fashion. (And to offer advice which says: and etc etc. is merely using rhetoric to give force to the suggestion that everyone should follow what your own critical decisions have been in this case. ) ............................................ P.S. All in all I am not sure who is the better artist, when stretching the term to include many things: Adria? Or the organizers of the show for the museum who ended up being provided with food prepared by him without even having to obtain reservations for el Bulli. How often does Adria do "home visits" such as this I wonder? An excellent piece of performance art done by the organizers. So quietly and without fanfare for their skills, too.

Ah. Everyone is an authority, like on the internet, huh? Useful in terms of outsider art, certainly. But I still think there are strong bastions drawn from inside to define, include or exclude. And Adria made it past those bastions (and even did it in his lifetime ) That, to me, says "something".

Having been among the art world for some years where vision, craft and edibility ( ) are all important to those seeking to be accepted and/or have their works sold . . . and having been a chef where vision, craft, and edibility meant that you earned the title or not, I can't see my way to what you describe above except as a philosophic comment that is useful to the performer but not useful at all to those he/she is performing for.

There's no exact emoticon to render my feelings on this and I hesitate to use words. Must be some strong kool-aid indeed. I had no intention of reading this book as it just isn't within the realm of things I really like to read but now it must be confessed I will be looking for it at the library just to read of the (rather unbelievable) scenes you describe above. I really wish you hadn't told us about that.

You make an excellent point. There are two things going on (at least ) here - the doing of a thing and then whether that thing gets acknowledged both in present time and in the future, and what ways the thing gets acknowledgement. The initial post noted that by inclusion in this art show, Adria had been acknowledged as an artist. Will his name and work remain in the canon of art, acknowledged in the future? ........................................ It would be interesting to do a fine-toothed comparison of what Marinetti did and how he did it as opposed to what Adria is doing and how he is doing it. Marinetti was not a chef, as is Adria so his work did not spring from the kitchen exactly, which is where Adria's does. It's been a very long time since I read "The Futurist Cookbook". I remember it as being rather awe-inspiring.

But how many people would agree that "The Futurist Cookbook" remained as a living part of either the canon of art or of the canon of cuisine I wonder, John. Many people in both fields have never even heard of it. Perhaps this is a problem inherent in crossing boundaries - in being a bastard one can be left behind or discarded when the "serious scholars" define the canons.

"Location, location, location", huh, hummingbirdkiss? Could be. I've had clams with extremely varied levels of grit, too, from both digging and buying. In this case, though, the chowder he wanted to make was supposed to be not the most lovely idea of chowing down with friends who don't care too much if a piece of grit attacks them (which to my mind is the best scenario to be in for comfort and fun) but he wanted to impress the people he was making the chowder for with his cooking skills. As in, perfection displayed - no imperfections allowed. In this case, I think all precautions need be taken to avoid any risk. When I posted this last night, I was a little peeved for when he called me to ask how I made chowder (and what parts of the clams to use, even, the center part or the edges! ) while at the same time telling me he had passed a test on it at the Culinary Institute, he also became angry at me when I started off by saying "First you purge the clams". "I call you for a recipe and now you're telling me I've got to do all this heavy sh*t!" was his loud angry comment. I never really considered purging clams to be heavy sh*t, so I was rather thrown. Oh. Yeah. This is who I used to be married to.

Yesterday after reading paulraphael's post (ha, ha, I just hit the wrong keys and wrote "poem" by mistake ) the questions of whether art is something that can be made for mass consumption or not started bothering me. As in: the idea of an individual work such as a painting - if it were copied for more than one person to hang in their home, then would only the original work be art or would all of the pieces be art (allowing that the initial piece was considered art to begin with ). For this is the situation (aside from the conceptual part) that Adria or any other chef's work faces in being considering as within the realm of art. The concept must be consistently executed over and over again for the mass production of plates coming from the kitchen for diners. Of course Warhohl addressed this question with his silkscreens and stretched the idea of pop art in the answer that was received, but the question does still remain in more traditional forms of art. The other question is interesting, too, that victornet raises about time art and theatre. My feeling has always been that the work of a chef as displayed in a restaurant of a certain level and sort is the closest thing one can find to theatre. Audience-interactive theatre, to be sure. Adria, with a strong hand as creative composer/performer, has less of this interactive reliance than most who may strive towards the realm of art within restaurant/chef as his work (or food) is standing there shimmering, unassailable in concept from wherever one stands within the workplace, the theatre, the restaurant, the studio, the living museum. He has written a circle around his work with his writings (as the writings head towards places philosophic) and what his work does, it does in a way that those who love it love it with passion, in its very real incarnations that can be tasted, seem, smelled, felt, heard, devoured. I think he must be an excellent chess-player, too.

I just got a phone call from someone asking about using clams they had just dug (some large ones) for a chowder. He wanted to check his recipe with me and when he did there was one thing I do that he claims he never did (when he learned how to make clam chowder from the CIA which he has a degree from). I told him to scrub the clams and to soak them overnight in salt water with a handful of cornmeal so that they would disgorge excess sand and grit. He says that you don't have to do that. Instead he was taught to make clam stock without this process being done, then simply to leave the sandy grainy bits in the bottom of the stock pan when straining the stock for the chowder. We'll see how his chowder turns out (he's making it now). I think he was using clams that already had been through this disgorging process at the purveyors they were purchased from when he was being taught this at the CIA and either was not told this needs to be done or maybe simply did not hear it. It seems to me that all the sand and grit will not come out with a simple simmer to make stock. Any thoughts? Have I been babying my clams too much all these years?