Cooking With Ideas

Cure

Yes, I have been eating out a lot. Too much. I will try to intersperse a few actual moments of cooking -- or thinking -- or reading. But, meanwhile, I am writing about the places I have been dining and that are making me think more positively about food. 

Cure is a place my partner has been mentioning for quite some time as a place she wanted to go. It is located in the Rochester Public Market, and yes, I have been to the market (on a Saturday since my return and thus discovered a new indulgence, Boxcar -- where the donuts are delightful and the coffee amazing. Yes, Boxcar needs to start selling coffee beans AND Kilogram tea bags, but otherwise it is the perfect place to hide and pretend to think/work. My first visit I purchased four donuts, including the odd cucumber mint. The second, I got my favorite that is my go to donut: cinnamon sugar.) 

So, Cure. Let's start with ambience: it is somewhat reminiscent of what I imagine Fulton Market was long ago, given that the Rochester Public Market remains a wholesale market in much of the buildings. So, yes, a kind of warehouse vibe. The seats are lovely, and the outside seating is in what seems pretty much to be a combination of street and parking lot.) I loved it, especially since we sat but the window and the chairs were comfortable. The red theme does it for me as well -- and I can say (though the anonymous bathroom reviewer has been pretty quiet for a long time) that the anonymous bathroom reviewer popped back to the table to say: oh, there are two themes around the word CURE -- cure(d) meats and curing bodies. This is because at least one bathroom has walls with various homeopathic and other cure notes -- celery is good for XYZ, for example. The theme is kind of french and local simultaneously as well. 

The welcome was friendly and the sommelier (a high faulting' name for what was, at cure, the wine woman) was knowledgeable and friendly. In fact, because my partner had a phone call, she took her wine out to where she was hanging out talking on the phone. Her wine descriptions are delightful -- and accurate -- with a soupçon of sense of humor. Said wine person is a fan of rose wine, though she did not know of Geneva's Rose Soiree. Yes, my partner continued her rose across the summer plan.  I had a cocktail (Surprising?) and can recommend it -- a delightful blackish color, with the name Four Leaf HOVA, it involved mulberry and Black Button Citrus Gin. As some of you know, I am on a gin kick, and trying various kinds This one was ultra ultra local since Black Button is a across the market from CURE on Railroad Street right near the aforementioned Boxcar. 

So: drinks? Yes. 

As for food, there were specials and there was the regular menu. In some ways, the place has a much calmer kind of Purple Pig vibe (yes, I am comparing things to Chicago. I better get over that soon, right?) There are small and larger plates, but the eye is on sharing all along. And, there is a meat vibe. We started with an allegedly very special lamb prosciutto which definitely lived up to the hype. And, we duck rillette, which I have to admit was not my favorite version of the usually wonderful addiction of mine. This was just a tad bland (I never ask for salt to add and I did). This did not prevent me from dining well. We also had the pickles maison because . . . well . . . pickles. 

After that we had the branzino. I was dubious. I was wrong. It is cooked to order and boned before serving whole (with the head and tale shown though not still attached. The fish was extremely tasty. It was salt baked but not overly salty. 

We did not have dessert. I was tempted -- but hey. Not so much. 

Any quibbles? Well, I would have preferred not to feel rushed as we dined and the fish came much too quickly. 

Despite that, I do intend to return. After all, there is rabbit on the menu and I have not yet tried it. 

Here's what Zagat has to say about Cure. 

 

Fat Rice

Fat Rice is a dandy place in Chicago, and I have eaten there twice -- once on my own tab and once on the tab of the University of Chicago Divinity School. In both cases: wow. 

So, at the start of June, when I was trying to treat myself well, I purchased a copy of their cookbook entitled (you will not guess): The Adventures of Fat Rice: recipes from the Chicago Restaurant Inspired by Macau (by Abraham Conlon, Adrienne Lo, and Hugh Amano). 

Let me begin with my memories of the restaurant. The first time we went, it was to meet a gathering of people from (as noted) the University of Chicago Divinity School when my partner was a fellow at the Marty Center. My memory includes sitting with Anthony Yu, who I barely knew in my youth (and this did lead to having lunch with him some time later) who helped me understand where Macau is and what the fusion of its colonial and world historical importance meant that led to the cuisine we were sampling. We ate, I know, the food for which the restaurant is (aptly) named: fat rice. Or, arroz gordo. It was memorable --for the meal I am speaking of was years ago. What we discovered was, as far as I have an analogy, a paella gone wild. It involved prawns and sausage (close to Portuguese linguica for reasons that turn out to be obvious) and more. I cannot even describe how happy that meal made me. I have no idea what else we ate -- or what we drank. But I can kind of see/feel the ambience, which was warm and welcoming (and I think it was a particularly cold Chicago winter). 

Huzzah. 

We went back once I think. 

And then, I saw Fat Rice (the restaurant) featured in a food magazine that had been haunting the house in Geneva for what is probably years. 

And then, some time ago, I started leering at the cover of the cookbook. It was actually some time around Christmas 2016. The cover was kind of reminiscent of a cartoon, with a kind of godzilla-esque clam monster spewing fire at a chicken like bird. Who knows. A colorful cover -- red. blue. orange, and green. In any case, I eventually succumbed to temptation and bought the $35 book. I bought it in June -- which I think means I had a lot of backbone in resisting temptation. It sat around for a few weeks. And then. . . 

For the first time in a while, I read the opening rather than leaping to the recipes -- and I am very glad I did. It is well written in a very kind and open way, and I learned something both about the creation of Fat Rice the restaurant and about the quest to figure out the cuisines of Macau. In fact, I am likely inspired (one day_ to look into the history of Portuguese exploration and colonization. I suspect it has its down sides, but hey -- the culinary sides are fascinating.) I knew about Goa (and I do know how to make a hell of a vindaloo) and I knew about Provincetown and parts of MA that include loads of Portuguese -- and, as a side effect of the aforementioned dinner, I knew a tiny tiny tiny amount about Macau. And, now I know a bit more. 

As it says right inside the opening of the book, "an hour's ferry ride from Hong Kong, on the banks of the Pearl River in China, lies Macau - a modern, cosmopolitan city with an unexpected history. For centuries, Macau was one of the world's great trading ports. . . " 

And, those sentences appear on a page that reminds me of those blue and white tiles -- and is meant to do so. Indeed, all of the visuals (all of which are incredibly beautiful) are meant to carry you along to a further understanding of the many Macaus -- the ways Europe, Southeast Asia, South Asia and China meet in Macau. And, they are all embedded in the tale of how 2 chicagoans learned about Macau and then created (or, simultaneously created) Fat Rice. I am not sure I will be able to make any of the dishes in this book, but I know that I will want to for the rest of my life. The intermingling of Aisa, Portuguese, India, and Africa -- is quite astonishing. And, it will mean Chicago to me for a long long time. 

A few tidbits: did you know there is a chicken curry with chorizo in it? Did you know that Jorge Alvarez was the "first European to reach China, sailing out from Burma user the Portuguese flag and landing on Nei Lingding Islan in 1513" (p. 2) which is part of why Macau becomes a "hub" of the new multinational trade of the Age of Exploration? Did you know that vindaloo has its roots in a Portuguese vinegar braised meat (p. 11)? And did you know that Macau is "an SAR (Special Administrative Region) of China, but for the five hundred years before Macau was returned to China in 1999, it was governed by Portugal" (p. 11)?

Neither did I. Nor did I think of restaurants as having a "mission," though most of the food professionals I know have a significant passion for what they do. Fat Rice, and its owners, declare themselves (in the book and I suspect in the restaurant) as having a mission. As they put it: "Fat Rice is more than a restaurant. Fat Rice is a center for he study, exploration, and sharing of global Portuguese cuisine" (p. 14)

They have found a convert. And her name is bibliochef.

For more on Macau and food, try the following links:

Eater Chicago's 2017 commentary on Fat Rice 

Bon Appetit's 2013 article on Fat Rice 

And yes, they have opened a bakery and lounge. More importantly, they take reservations. Hmmmm. BY the time you read this, I will have left Chicago. But, if you live there -- or visit there -- you will now be better prepared -- and yes, you should try Fat Rice. 

Portico at Del Lago

By now, I have been to Portico at Del Lago Resort and Casino 3 times. (I have spent a total of $12 at the casino, in one dollar bills, covering 2 people. Self control or fear of addiction?) 

Portico is one of several restaurants at the Casino, which also features several fast food type places, a buffet (which actually smells good but I have not visited), and a pub/bar that serves "New Orleans inspired" food and has live acts. Portico itself is shorthand for Portico by Fabio Viviani who, if you do not already know it, has several restaurants in Chicago which I meant to visit and did not, and thus I was forced (kidding!) to visit him in dear old upstate NY, fewer than 20 minutes from home. A "fan favorite" on Top Chef, Fabio was beloved for his accent and for his insistence on the value of Italian cuisine. Italian cuisine -- or Italian American cuisine -- has a long and storied history in upstate NY, having followed the immigrants who came her in the 19th, 20th and 21st centuries. (In fact, there is quite a controversy here about the correct way to make gnocchi.) As one friend put it: yet another Italian restaurant? 

Well, not all Italian restaurants are alike, of course. You can decide for yourself after reading or visiting -- though after 3 times in fewer than 3 weeks, I am giving Fabio a pause. Or is that Portico's?

Rather than review one visit at a time, let me begin with liquids and then move to food. 

Table Tipplings OR Wetting Your Whistle 

Ok, I am just a tad done with receiving an IPad from which to order either food or drink, and there is no need to explain it to me more than once. I first experienced this at the Toronto airport what feels like a decade ago, so thinking it is cool and trendy is. . . well, not. That is a quibble. Here are a few comments: 

First: there is only one rose by the glass and rose is the thing these days when the temperature is at least 80 and the humidity is at least 80. The rose is a nice one, and fits with most of the food we have chosen. Our servers have indicated "Well, this is an italian place" but still. . . good on them that the one they have is dry and tasty. Name: Chronic Cellars Pink Pedal, 2015. Side note: I think roses are meant to be consumed in the first year and this seems a tad. . . old? It drinks fine but. . . 

I, of course, have a preference for cocktails and have tried several different ones: one failed. The others were quite good. Passing inspection were: a variant on a Moscow mule, a lovely concoction called a South Side (green with a lovely edge of tart and sweet), and a makers mark manhattan which I was forced to get because I do not (and this is a matter of taste alone) recommend their Signature Old Fashioned. In the latter regard: I did not finish it and you, dear readers, know that is not like me. I did, though, have a taste of the housemate syrup upon which it is based; that was terrific. The drink? Not so much. 

On the non alcoholic side, there is an important point to make which sounds trivial, perhaps. Portico's also serves bottled water that we LOVE -- Aqua Panna. Yes, I know the bottled water thing is somewhere between a scandal and an ecological disaster. I do not care for many kinds of bottled water -- but this one is one of my favorites. Get the still Aqua Panna. 

Dining Out

The first time we ate there it was a spur of the moment thing and we did in fact have lunch seated at a table. The second and third times we sat at the bar, once with little in the way of food available as it was an odd afternoon time, and once with the full dinner menu available. In all instances, but especially when we were seated for lunch, we were impressed by the knowledgeability of the servers. 

What we ate:

Gnocchi -- not surprisingly I ordered these on my first visit. I love gnocchi -- and these were terrific. They came with a garlic scape pesto (which is why I have not ordered them every visit as I have a limited tolerance for garlic scares) -- a delightful, light pesto on delightful light gnocchi. These are not the best gnocchi I have ever had in upstate NY (I still give that to the old Henry B's) but they are pretty darn close. Small, light, not an over sized portion. Terrific. 

Bolognese -- I had a taste of my partner's bolognese on the first visit -- and it was terrific too. The sauce itself (the server claimed) is based on Fabio's grandmother's recipe. Who knows? I can say this: light and reasonable to eat on a hot day, with distinct tastes that heighten rather than drown the house made pasta. The pasta itself had a good mouthfeel and was itself perfection incarnate. 

Kale salad -- As you might guess, this is not my favorite food in the world. And yet, it appears often on my plate as I share with my partner who loves kale salad. This was a good one, including the anchovies that accompanied it. There were croutons (tasty little devils) and all in all, I have resisted ordering it again simply because I do not like kale salads all that much. 

Swordfish Crudo -- This was simply the best dish I had at portico and one of the best crude dishes I have ever had. The fish was sliced perfectly (and very thinly) and served with a very light (dare I say sprightly) beignet with a splash of ricotta (I think) cream on top with caviar. This is a whole reason to go to Portico. Yes, get it. 

Pork Belly -- I admit it. In my view, pork belly is a food of the gods. I have rarely had it and not liked it. This time? I loved it. It was nicely cartelized, and came with a bit of a salad (not much) that was acidic enough to cope with the fat. The serving was perfect for two people. And. . . . did I say I loved it. It was both a nice piece of pork belly (they seem to have really good sources for everything they serve at Portico) and it was truly well cooked and presented. Next time I will get it with the swordfish crude and be very happy. 

Meatballs - I cannot recall why this seemed like a good idea, and I have a mixed response. On the one hand, it was light, and tasty and the red sauce was wonderful. On the other hand, it was the size of a softball (I compared it to the truly delicious knodel at Dano's) and . . . I would not order it again. For those who love meatballs (or meatloaf) go for it. Not something I would go out of my way to order again, especially since everything appearing above this item in this blog entry (except that one drink!) I would order again! 

Potato Skins - We were tempted into this because (a) we met someone one of our early visits who had them and gave us a taste. The taste was amazing! and (b) we both love potatoes. While they are enjoyable in small quantities, they come in a huge heap and . . . well, I tired of them and probably would not order again unless I was there with a large group and could have just one. I will say that they outclass almost every potato skin I have ever had. 

What else? 

Parking is abundant. Shopping is possible -- there is a Mackenzie Child store with outlandish (and usual) prices. And you can gamble if that is your thing. If a spa is your thing, I can also attest to the pedicures as reasonable. And, the prices at the spa are lower on Mondays through Thursdays. 

Overall: I over did it in a short amount of time but I recommend Portico's. 

For another view try here or here. 

Reading without Ideas?

Yes, I am back in Geneva and yes, I have been cooking like mad in between (a) unpacking and (b) trying to do some professional writing and (c) various supportive partner Seneca Falls women's rights type things involving the National Women's Hall of Fame. I have made very slow cooked scrambled eggs and a pea tendril salad.  I have made rasam (and truly enjoyed it). I have made a steak salad skewed toward the Vietnamese. I made (well, we made, a pizza involving duck confit and greens and pea tendrils and basil and home made tomato sauce, and . . .

And I have made more. Indeed, I am enjoying the kitchen. I can see outside into the lush Finger Lakes. I can see Seneca Lake and I can see cats and hear birds and I do not even worry. 

But I have also been reading some things -- including re-reading an old issue of the New Yorker on food. Dated November 22, 2010, I have no idea if I read it before. I think that is one of the mixed blessings of getting older; I can re-read something and it feels like reading it for the very first time. And, I will never know, in cases where I have not underlined or made marginal comments, if I ever read it before. Hurrah> A very inexpensive sort of recycling? 

So, on to the content: 

1. An article entitled Eleanor Roosevelt's Inedible Cuisine pointed to Eleanor getting revenge on FDR for his marital infidelities by supporting a truly awful cook as the White House cook. While represented sometimes as all about the matter of cheap nutrition during the depression and thereafter, Laura Shapiro (author of the piece and of several books at least one of which I read at some point in the past) seems to think the notion of near inedibility and utter grayness was revenge (served best cold?). I admit to having a bit of an Eleanor phase these days in terms of reading books (mostly fiction) that include her in cameo appearances. While the notion of the lousy food appears in those novels and of revenge, tying the two together -- not so much. Hmmm.
2. Fermenting Revolution is by Burchard Bilger. But what makes me find it most intriguing, besides it being a terrific romp, is the way the current guru of fermentation, Sandor Katz, author of The Art of Fermentation, appears in the article. It felt a bit like "well, this person who I treated like an out of the blue figure on my culinary universe has been there all along" -- nostalgic vertigo? 
3. The same thing happened in a piece on the Burger Queen, which is really about chef April Bloomfield, whose book I now own. Amazingly nostalgic vertigo? Or, we now know that people appear first in the New Yorker? 
4. In both cases #2 and #2 the articles are, but the way, terrific. 
5. An Immigrant Thanksgiving and a piece entitled "Root-Vegetable Romance" (by Jane Kramer) also made me happily hungry

I ought to say something more substantive I suppose. But, to be honest, I do not want to. I enjoyed the reading and the slowness of the words drifting past my eyes and the thought of how much these articles spoke to me. 

You might enjoy the issue. You might not. I did. Here's the link to the November 22, 2010 issue of the New Yorker. 

 

 

Susan Wittig Albert & Blood Oranges

I have been a fan of Susan Wittig Albert's China Bayles series for a long time. The focus on botanicals in various ways is consistent and always enlightening and I like the way she branches out to newer ideas in that regard across the series. I also, I have to admit, appreciate it that she was a university professor and administrator earlier in life. Turns out some of those who (I assume) fantasized about writing mysteries actually do so! Albert writes a number of series and, also, has a recent book that I found very entertaining about Eleanor Roosevelt and her "friend," entitled Loving Eleanor. 

The China Bayles series is an apt one for this blog given the many many links between botanicals and cooking. Indeed, the amateur detective type (currently married to a former policeman turned PI) is herself not only running a herb store but with her friend Ruby, a cafe and catering company and more. 

The most recent installment I have read is entitled Blood Orange and was published in 2016. (I have a vague idea I read The Last Chance Olive Ranch, which is Albert's 2017 installment, but am not sure if I blogged on it. Hmmm.) 

In any case, Blood Orange takes a bit of a turn from the earlier installments of the series by focusing on quaffables -- that is, drinks. Indeed, the book opens with a discussion of beer -- and the ways that various botanicals (herbs, oranges, and more) have appeared in beers across history and, more recently, in craft beers. Having recently tried a beer from Middlebrow called the milk eyed mender that I really liked, I was intrigued. Throughout the tale, China thinks through the possibilities of liqueurs (which I have to admit do not sound all that great), and there is a subplot focused on a local craft brewery. The series is, of course, set in Pecan Spring, Texas -- ostensibly half way between Austin and San Antonio -- so the fictitious craft brewery is a Texas one!  

The blood orange theme began a trifle oddly -- as though readers would have no idea what a blood orange is/was. After that, there were aspects of it that were fun, including ideas that might work -- involving blood orange vinaigrettes, drinks, and more. Here's what Albert offers on the website devoted to the China Bayles mysteries:

    "In the early 1990s, a gardener in Moorpark, CA, was startled when she saw something very unusual on her favorite Valencia orange         tree. The oranges on one limb of the tree were reddish, and the fruit was blood red. A local farm advisor clued her in. Her Valencia orange had repeated a mutation that first occurred in China, where blood oranges made their first appearance centuries ago.

Traditional Chinese herbalists used oranges to treat the digestive and respiratory systems: improve digestion, relieve intestinal gas and bloating, and reduce phlegm. But the medicinal orange came into its own in the west in1747, when a ship's doctor in the British Royal Navy discovered that oranges (and other citrus fruits) prevented scurvy in sailors on long sea voyages. Now, we know that oranges are high in vitamin C, and that citrus flavonoids are potentially antioxidant, antiviral, and anti-inflammatory." (http://www.abouthyme.com/China/BloodOrange.shtml )

I have had some infused beers that are, well, truly terrible. I even recall one that was so bad it was memorable -- a pumpkin one. The Middlebrow beer I mentioned above was actually wonderful -- and as always, and despite much of a plot review here, so was Blood Orange. Yes, the main thrust of the novel has to do with hospice and medicare/medicaid fraud. And, yes, that may hit just a little too close to home as one ages? I can say that I benefited from the wonder of hospice and palliative care personnel when my mother died and more recently when friends have suffered. And, I am glad I have never met anyone who seemed eager to profit from the grief of others. 

As a side note, and another area where I learned a lot: I knew nothing about various whistleblower laws and the potential upside to being a whistle blower . . . . hmmm. 

 

Mouthfeel (and Umami)

This is not the first book I have owned or read by Ole G. Mouritsen and Klavs Styrbaek. (The first was focused on umami -- and I bought this one because the one so delighted me. I thought I reviewed it on the blog, but cannot locate any such thing. Hence, this review has the TITLE OF THE BOOK IN THE REVIEW, bibliochef, you dunce. That way there is a small chance you can find it again some day. I may not even have reviewed the book on umami,  given this item which I COULD find -- so I will comment on it here as well.) 

The title this time? Mouthfeel: How Texture Makes Taste. 

The secondary title this time: Umami: Unlocking the Secrets of the Fifth Taste

But I will discuss them in the order I encountered them!

The translator? Mariela Johansen who also tweaked the book for the relevant make, and is the translator for both of the books discussed herein. 

The publisher?  Columbia University Press, in their series Arts and Traditions of the Table: Perspectives in Culinary History. Again, true for both books. 

Mouthfeel is, like Umami, a beautiful book. It has a lovely cover -- black with visuals of an oyster, a piece of fried chicken (a drumstick) with a bite taken from it, a piece of watermelon similarly bitten, an apple (also bitten -- are you seeing a theme?), sushi, a macaron, a burger, a popsicle, and I think a bit of egg with chives and crispy bacon on it. The Mouth -- and the Feel -- are, I suppose, implied by the visuals with the bits taken from the individual, attractive, food items.In some ways, this cover is like -- and unlike the cover to Umami which also depicted various food items. In the more recent case, the background is black and the food tidbits appear against the background. In the case of Umami the visuals are presented as interconnected boxes. Both books are nice hardbacks, both,  to coin a phrase possibly, have good "book feel" (by which, of course, I mean they feel good to the hand, look good to the eye, smell good, and thus have good "book feel.)  The photography, layout and design for at least one of the two was undertaken by Jonas Drotner Mouritsen, and in at least one case support was provided by the Danish Arts Foundation. d

On the authors (again of both books): Mouritsen is "Director of the Danish Center for Taste and the Center for Biomembrane Physics" at the University of Southern Denmark with several books to his credit. Added to his bio on the newer book: Mouritsen is president of the Danish Gastronomical Academy.  Styrbaek is a chef, and has been for 20 plus years, and is described on the back of Umami  as having owned and run "the highly regarded Restaurant Kvaegtorvet (the Cattle Market) in Odense, Denmark" and as a "passionate advocate for the renewal of classical Danish cuisine." who runs an experimental restaurant and chef school. (If you have Danish, click here for info on the restaurant.) The newer book notes that he, with his wife!, runs the "gastronomical innovation project STYRBAEKS, incorporating an experimental restaurant and a chefs' school." I have a feeling that the Danish site referenced earlier can enlighten those who have Danish. I don't so am hoping for help in the comments!  

Ok, now on to reflections on the actual books themselves. 

Let's start with Umami. The book is a terrific, in depth review of both what umami is and its relation to the other four tastes (sour sweet, salty, bitter). And, it reviews various sources for umami in three categories: seaweeds/fish/shellfish; fungi and plants; meat/eggs/dairy. These sections are followed by the best titled section of a book ever: soup is umami. And, then, Mouritsen and Styrbaek turn their attention to the various topics associated with umami. Here are a few things I learned:

    Not only are there more than four tastes, there might be 7 or five or. . . 

    The relation of umami to MSG (and salt)  (and the so-called chinese restaurant syndrome) is not so complex but it is fascinating. Let's begin with Chinese restaurant syndrome. Turns out, in 1968, a letter to the editor appeared in the New England Journal of Medicine  pointing to a "strange syndrome" experienced after eating in, you guessed it, a Chinese restaurant. Yep, same thing as MSG-symptom complex. And, while many people claim to experience it, scientific evidence now shows that no more than "102 -ercent of the population, who think that suffer from . . . [the syndrome]" experience it. Basically: no health hazard here. (See especially pp. 32-33). This is connected to MSG -- which is a glucamate salt and. . .. glutamate introduces umami into the taste of various foods. As such, it is a flavor additive -- or, in various synergistic ways, exists in foods that we experience as having certain tastes. (You may, if you are my age and American remember all this as Accent.) This is way too little, but suffices to tell you that this book is worth reading for its readable and, more importantly, comprehensible, presentation of information about both the molecular structure of MSG and related phenomena, their history, and their impact upon taste. 

    Umami and the famous (or infamous) fish sauce of the ancient world not to mention the fish sauce I regularly buy for Thai and     other cooking are not unrelated. If you have cooked fish, killed fish, made dashi or consumed it, used kombu, you have encountered and, likely, manipulated your eating experience by manipulating umami related experiences. Perhaps the most straightforward its the use of fish sauce -- which has a history in various cultures including those noted here: ancient Rome and Greece, and various Asian cuisines that use fish sauces. That unique smell that simultaneously makes me drool and makes me turn my head away? Yep. Umami related. 

    Some tidbits about bacon, blue cheese, and . . . which boils down to the notion that one of the reasons Iike them so much: umami. Nuff said. 

    Things I am leaving out: beer; why umami satisfies the appetite; the history of Bovril; and umami for the sick and aging population. And again, to reduce this to a few words: umami appears in more places than you might expect as a core to why things taste good. 

As, finally, a side note: the book contains multiple recipes and they are worth a read and perhaps making. And, the glossary is incredibly helpful too. Do you know what chemesthesis is? You should, and you can find out in the glossary to this book. 

On to the second book. Mouthfeel is also, like Umami, an interesting blend of science and art/humanistic reflection. As is the case with Umami, rem subtitle points us to the main point of both books: taste. IN this case, the issue is: how is texture related to taste? The opening of this particular book raises a whole series of questions -- and that is part of what I like about Mouritsen and Styrbaek -- they are curious and they pursue that curiosity together. As they do so in their books, they both fulfill one's curiosity, raise questions I have never thought of, and actually encourage the arrival of questions they do not address. In this case, of course, they begin with the question of what mouthfeel is and its connections to why we are -- or are not -- attracted to various foodstuffs. What is kind of dandy at the outset is the ay they discuss the relation of anatomy to taste -- including things like astringency and sensory confusion. They then move to the ways molecules in our food connect to the neurology of taste and to the "physical properties of food: form, structure, and texture." It is the latter which connects, of course, to mouthfeel. 

Chapters 5 and 6 offer kind of an experimental approach to mouthfeel, including recipes and eventually, in chapter 7, the ways our enjoyment (or, I admit it, our disgust)  is connected to texture. The book is really engaging in many ways, including but not only:

the notion that heat (both literal and figurative) affects our enjoyment of foods

the role of fats 

how sauces are related to mouthfeel and thus can enhance our eating (duh, I guess, but I loved the reading about it)

why perishability is related to mouthfeel (the yuckiness of that slime in the back of your refrigerator that you discover when you finally empty the darn thing because you are moving and you cannot even imagine what that container originally contained). 

Perhaps the best bit is a subtitle: "Food and Taste Adventurousness" -- something I discover sometimes in books like this one, and more often with friends. 

Again, terrific recipes -- including pig tail confit, nod moritmoto's 22-step recipe for a perfect duck breast -- and glossary. And, yes, both books have amazing bibliographies. All in all, not only great bookfeel, but great reading and learning. 

For info on the book on Umami, click here. And just because I am feeling vaguely cosmopolitan today, click here for reviews of both books from the Japan Times.