JAZ

I have about 10 types, because I had to do a tasting for the book I'm working on. I'm of the opinion that the main detectable differences are in texture (although you can smell the iodine in the iodized stuff if you dissolve it in hot water). For anyone interested, there are a few interesting articles on the subject -- one in Robert Wolke's book What Einstein Told His Cook and one in Jeffrey Steingarten's latest, It Must Have Been Something I Ate. Cook's Illustrated also did a comparative tasting, which was interesting but of course much less entertaining that either Wolke or Steingarten.

Well, of course it's a matter of personal preference, but here's my opinion on the shaken v. stirred question: I prefer to stir drinks made primarily with one spirit (e.g., martinis, manhattans) and to shake cocktails made with either cordials or fruit juices. My reason is that, as Vanessa noted, a shaken drink ends up with tons of minute air bubbles. She enjoys that sensation, but I don't. And I don't like a clear drink like a martini to be cloudy. But for a cocktail with different ingredients with different consistencies, I think shaking is essential to thoroughly mix the drink, And since there are generally opaque or colored ingredients, the cloudiness is not as apparent. If I'm shaking a drink, I do shake it thoroughly, but I don't like a drink so violently tossed around that it pours out all foamy. Ick. That being said, there's no doubt that a shaken cocktail is colder. I get around that by storing my cocktail glasses in the freezer (my freezer is small, and filled mostly with glasses, ice and limoncello). I do prefer larger cubes for stirring or shaking drinks, but if I'm serving a drink on the rocks, I like smaller cubes or crushed (not shaved) ice. I adore my copy of Harrington and Moore's Cocktail book. I spent months trying out many drinks that were new to me and several of those have become favorites. I particularly enjoy the Jasmine (gin, lemon juice, triple sec and a splash of Campari) and the Pegu (gin, triple sec, lime juice and bitters). You can probably I'm a gin sort of person. However, my current favorite drink is not from his book and is not gin based. It's a vodka drink which consists of mandarin flavored vodka (Absolut is good, Hangar One is exquisite) and Lillet Blond, with the proportions of a classic (i.e., not terribly dry) martini. Stirred, up and garnished with an orange twist if I have an orange lying around. In fact, I'm drinking one right now, rewarding myself for a rather nasty day at work. (I have only had a few minutes to glance at DeGroff's book, but it looks to be very good as well. I will undoubtedly buy it.) Janet Oh, and that strainer thingy is called a cocktail strainer. Seems like it would have a better name.

If you decide you like limoncello, it's very easy to make. Plus, making it gives you the added advantage of being able to make it as sweet or tart as you like it.

But anyone who has read Dr. Korsmeyer's book can tell you that the artist's experience is not a topic that she addresses at all. That ommission puzzles me, but then I haven't studied aesthetics and don't know the usual parameters of the discipline (I preferred logic and philosophy of language). Korsmeyer instead concentrates on the object, and her criteria for defining any objects (food or paintings) as art have to do with whether the objects are symbolic in any of several ways. Again, not having studied aesthestics, I don't know how common her approach is. Common or not, her approach leads to some curious conclusions. Yes, she says, food can be symbolic (she gives as two examples Thanksgiving dinner and Passover foods), and thus it can attain "aesthetic significance." She continues, "I believe that insolfar as they carry the same sort of aesthetic significance [as works of art]...food and drink merit aesthetic standing, and at the same time serve many of the same symbolic functions as do works of fine art. However, the latter role, which I believe makes foods deeply important and not just sensuously delightful, is not always paramount when the quality of cuisine is being evaluated. In this instance, the sensuous enjoyment of eating and drinking often legitimately takes the foreground, and the other symbolic functions of foods...recede..." She goes on to conclude, "Even when the fare is scanty or poor and the sensuous enjoyment thereby lessened, however, the other symbolic fundtions of foods may still be of such importance that the festival, practice or ritual of which eating is a component is in no way diminished." In other words, in Korsmeyer's view, the quality of the cooking is pretty much irrelevant to whether a particular food has artistic significance. And that, to me, was deeply dissatisfying. I bought and read the book (which I found to be very informative) expecting some sort of discussion of the artist and the process of creation, and there was none. I have my own ideas on that topic, though. Having played the flute for many many years, I find striking parallels between music and cooking. First of all, I think you can differentiate among cooks in the same way you can differentiate musicians. There are musicians who are talented at one (or more instruments) -- often very talented -- yet who only play what others have written. They do not compose anything themselves. There are musicians who don't really compose new music, but who make modifications -- minor or major -- to the written music they play from. Then there are the musicians who compose original pieces. Likewise, with cooks, you have the ones who follow recipes, with various degrees of skill. You have the more "adventurous" sorts who begin with a written recipe but will often modify it. Then you have the cooks who devise their own recipes. Also, you have levels of originality in composition. The composers of commercial jingles and TV themes are certainly composing "original" pieces, but many of their compositions are not very imaginitive -- they rely on familiar chords, progressions, and combinations of instruments. Those chefs who devise the dishes and menus for Olive Garden or Red Lobster compose "original" recipes, but there's nothing terribly new and exciting in their repertoires. But of course, originality is a relative term. Virtually no composer ignores the music that has come before him, just as no cook can truly ignore her culinary background. The John Cages are as rare as the Ferren Adrias (which is maybe not such a bad thing). Sometimes the most striking talent consists in taking the old and familiar and adding a twist that turns it into something new and exciting. So, who are the artists, and who are the craftsmen (for lack of a better term)? Seems to me that the act of creating something, rather than just playing what's there, or following a recipe, is a big part of what it takes for either a musician or a cook to be called an artist. Of course the result of the creativity has to be something that people want to listen to, or to eat -- otherwise, what's the point? The short answer to your question (that is, does cookery offer enough scope for expression to be considered an art) is yes. You may as well ask if music offers enough complexity. But does that mean that all or even most cooking is art? No, just as much of the music around is not art.