Last night, my wife was going to arrive home late for dinner due to her French class. That could have been an excuse for preparing a simple snack or leftovers, but we almost always choose to avoid that kind of eating after a long work day because it makes us feel a little depressed, to be honest. Like many people, we enjoy taking time to cook, to prepare something significant, perhaps simple, but still elegant, even when time is not in our favor. In some way, the day just does not feel complete without it. On weekend nights, with more time, even if it never seems to be a luxurious amount, the options are wide open, and on occasion we might spend two hours or more in preparation of something more special.
So I prepared a meal last night anyway, but I needed to keep it light since we would be eating so late. I tried something common to many people, Baba Ghanoush (that wonderful paté common in Middle Eastern cuisine), but which I not have prepared more than a couple times, so the novelty was motivation. It is also somewhat simple, but the process takes time and attention. I peel and roast 2 small eggplants (or aubergine as they are known here in Geneva), drenched in extra virgin olive oil and salted, to begin. While the eggplants relax and enrich their flavor in the oven, with only minimal attention required to turn them periodically, it is time to prepare the additional ingredients. Skipping the traditional tahini, which I did not have, I dice capers and spring onions (or szypior, as Maja is used to naming them in Polish) to add some bite. The process of chopping and dicing is quite enjoyable once one gets comfortable with the knife, in fact. The focus and skill required to avoid injuring the fingers and making even cuts is worth developing. The rest of the dish was roasted garlic (we prefer this over raw garlic), fresh lemon juice, parsley and cumin powder (fresh ground in this case). After the eggplant is soft, I blend all these things together in a food processor until it is very smooth, heavier than whipped cream, but similar. Then I just have to prepare a simple side salad and slice some bread.
One of the enjoyable and rewarding things about cooking is the potential for endless variation and creative opportunities, as well as the pleasure of using the materials at hand efficiently and to interesting effect. Even one ingredient substituted, or a vegetable sliced thinner or thicker, might have a noticeable effect on the final dish. When trying a new dish, we on occasion use a recipe religiously, but that is rare. Personalization is a key to getting the full enjoyment out of the experience.
We like going out to restaurants for a different kind experience, but we sometimes come away feeling we can do better. Maybe this is true, but maybe it is also just that we miss the process of preparation. After a long day of email communication, meetings, drafting documents and plans, and the inevitable general bureaucratic steps (and crevasses) required to work within the international organizations we are part of, cooking is almost a form of meditation.
It was a warm night, so we ate on the balcony, overlooking the lake, with candles, nice place settings, the sound of soft waves hitting the rocks, and also the background noise we have learned to overlook, the parade of evening planes from countries all over the world heading for the Geneva Airport to land. We see an Emirates plane, and wonder if they ate Baba Ghanoush during their journey as well, and whether it was as good as ours.
The qualities of cooking mentioned above--infinite creative options, requisite dexterity, a focus on process, a body of jargon, specialized tools, visceral enjoyment of the final product--surely qualify cooking as a high craft. And experts chefs are given the recognition that high level craftsman deserve. But does food deserve to be called an artform?
As mentioned in a previous post, I don’t feel this question is profitable. It leads to many strange arguments. One is that the fact that food is ephemeral makes it unlike most art forms. But isn’t this also true of musical and dance performances? And many visual arts as well, such as Tibetan sand paintings and the outdoor natural arts of Andy Goldsworthy. Another is that food is consumable, for sustenance and not pure enjoyment, so it lacks the “enjoyment for its own sake” that other arts demonstrate. But then there is architecture, and the point that enjoyment is also a useful purpose. Food, and its preparation, offers the opportunity for aesthetic experience, and this is the point, not whether we can call it art. We can anticipate its pleasures, we can become highly engaged in the processes of preparation and eating, it can generate curiosity due to its variety, it is immediately experienced and not just something for intellectual thought, and it can bring about a profound feeling of closure, one felt even in the body as the stomach is satisfied. It is these things that make cooking and eating aesthetic.
Preparing food for oneself and for family and friends provides several levels of nourishment. First is the aesthetic pleasure of crafting a good meal. Second is the physical nourishment of the meal, but also, thirdly, its aesthetic appreciation when eaten. And finally, there is the joy in sharing what one has prepared with others.
So I prepared a meal last night anyway, but I needed to keep it light since we would be eating so late. I tried something common to many people, Baba Ghanoush (that wonderful paté common in Middle Eastern cuisine), but which I not have prepared more than a couple times, so the novelty was motivation. It is also somewhat simple, but the process takes time and attention. I peel and roast 2 small eggplants (or aubergine as they are known here in Geneva), drenched in extra virgin olive oil and salted, to begin. While the eggplants relax and enrich their flavor in the oven, with only minimal attention required to turn them periodically, it is time to prepare the additional ingredients. Skipping the traditional tahini, which I did not have, I dice capers and spring onions (or szypior, as Maja is used to naming them in Polish) to add some bite. The process of chopping and dicing is quite enjoyable once one gets comfortable with the knife, in fact. The focus and skill required to avoid injuring the fingers and making even cuts is worth developing. The rest of the dish was roasted garlic (we prefer this over raw garlic), fresh lemon juice, parsley and cumin powder (fresh ground in this case). After the eggplant is soft, I blend all these things together in a food processor until it is very smooth, heavier than whipped cream, but similar. Then I just have to prepare a simple side salad and slice some bread.
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| Photo by young shanahan, copyright Creative Commons |
We like going out to restaurants for a different kind experience, but we sometimes come away feeling we can do better. Maybe this is true, but maybe it is also just that we miss the process of preparation. After a long day of email communication, meetings, drafting documents and plans, and the inevitable general bureaucratic steps (and crevasses) required to work within the international organizations we are part of, cooking is almost a form of meditation.
It was a warm night, so we ate on the balcony, overlooking the lake, with candles, nice place settings, the sound of soft waves hitting the rocks, and also the background noise we have learned to overlook, the parade of evening planes from countries all over the world heading for the Geneva Airport to land. We see an Emirates plane, and wonder if they ate Baba Ghanoush during their journey as well, and whether it was as good as ours.
The qualities of cooking mentioned above--infinite creative options, requisite dexterity, a focus on process, a body of jargon, specialized tools, visceral enjoyment of the final product--surely qualify cooking as a high craft. And experts chefs are given the recognition that high level craftsman deserve. But does food deserve to be called an artform?
As mentioned in a previous post, I don’t feel this question is profitable. It leads to many strange arguments. One is that the fact that food is ephemeral makes it unlike most art forms. But isn’t this also true of musical and dance performances? And many visual arts as well, such as Tibetan sand paintings and the outdoor natural arts of Andy Goldsworthy. Another is that food is consumable, for sustenance and not pure enjoyment, so it lacks the “enjoyment for its own sake” that other arts demonstrate. But then there is architecture, and the point that enjoyment is also a useful purpose. Food, and its preparation, offers the opportunity for aesthetic experience, and this is the point, not whether we can call it art. We can anticipate its pleasures, we can become highly engaged in the processes of preparation and eating, it can generate curiosity due to its variety, it is immediately experienced and not just something for intellectual thought, and it can bring about a profound feeling of closure, one felt even in the body as the stomach is satisfied. It is these things that make cooking and eating aesthetic.
Preparing food for oneself and for family and friends provides several levels of nourishment. First is the aesthetic pleasure of crafting a good meal. Second is the physical nourishment of the meal, but also, thirdly, its aesthetic appreciation when eaten. And finally, there is the joy in sharing what one has prepared with others.
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