Consider the Fork: A History of How We Cook and Eat
Author: Bee Wilson
Rating: ā 4/5
Date Read: 2014/08/09
Pages: 327
As I type this review, Iām sipping a glass of lightly-oaked Oregon Pinot Noir and noshing on some balls of fresh mozzarella, which I quickly marinated in olive oil (along with sea salt and red pepper flakes) while I finished the last chapter of Consider the Fork. The wine wasnāt really prepared to preserve the grape harvest (itās a fine wine, after all), and the mozzarella wasnāt made out of the desire to preserve fresh milk that would otherwise spoil. No, I simply picked these items because I like them, which is a pretty wonderful thing to be able to do when you really think about it.
Consider the Fork is a history of cooking, as seen through the tools we use to cook our food. Iām a romanticizer of cooking tools: when I moved from Chicago to San Francisco, I refused to put my favorite cast iron skillet in a box and pack it away. I needed it on my person, a comforting reminder of the joyous nights Iāve spent in the kitchen pan-roasting chicken thighs, or making cornbread, or rendering the fat from some duck legs, which I finished in the oven with a little bit of red wine while I used the reserved duck fat to flavor the potatoes. But these tools are more than beloved possessions, and Bee Wilson uses them to tell a story about how we cook. Any foodie can wax poetic about their perfectly-sharped chefās knives, but it takes a great writer to bring interest to egg beaters and vegetable peelers. Luckily, Wilson is up to the job.
Most interesting, to me, was the final chapter, in which Wilson considers [b:Modernist Cuisine|8885824|Modernist Cuisine The Art and Science of Cooking|Nathan Myhrvold|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1328774509s/8885824.jpg|13761755] and the newfound obsession with the perfect kitchen. Now, I like to use soy lecithin to whip up some salt foam to float on top of margaritas as much as the next girl, but Iām generally somewhat wary of molecular gastronomy. Iām the kind of person who doesnāt mind rendering my own fresh lard, or mixing up mayo from scratch, using a balloon whisk while I slowly add olive oil one drop at a time. Wilson writes about new technologies with the same degree of mesmerized skepticism: she lauds sous vide even as she notes that AdriĆ ās staff enjoys traditional family meals before service.
A word about the āperfectā kitchen: I have been relatively vocal in my disdain for those who obsessively create a showplace kitchen, only to most rely on ready meals and takeout. A Viking range and All-Clad pans are certainly nice to have, but they donāt make anyone a great cook. Iām perfectly capable of turning out some great food in a tiny galley kitchen with minimal counter space, and Iām not the only one. While I do think that everyone who wants to cook needs to have a perfectly-sharp chefās knife and a cast-iron skillet, I think a great cook can do will with the most minimal of kitchens; after all, the quality of the ingredients matters above all else. We should never let lack of money or lack of counter space stand in the way of our culinary dreams, nor should we use the lack of a perfect kitchen as an excuse not to cook.
For dinner, Iām going to be making roasted smoked duck sausage and asparagus, which Iāll serve alongside last nightās leftover mashed potatoes. Thanks to this book, Iāll be able to think about the juxtaposition of the older method of preserving meat and the new role played by refrigeration. Iāll think about the utensils we use to cook the meal, and the cultural conventions behind them. Any book that helps me think about the tools involved in dinner in a new way certainly deserves a recommendation, and I think this will be especially interesting to cooks and foodies.
