Textures of carrot.
Where do you start with ‘textures of carrot’? Three textures of carrot for table seven!’…. ‘YES CHEF!’….
‘Pffffft – piss off Chef! That’s MENTAL!’
Next week….. a veneer of fennel! anatomy of owl!
When did chefs start describing food thus? It’s a bit too clever isn’t it? It just turns me off. I’ve blogged before about how the best foods are those that we chefs have the least to do with. An oyster. A raspberry. A broad bean. These are the best things to eat in the world. Out of the sea, down the gullet. Off the bush, down the gullet. Out of the pod, down the gullet. I love the texture of carrot. Its crunchy. What’s not to like about crunchy? But‘textures of carrot’ leaves me cold.
If someone wants to take me to 3 star Michelin restaurants then I will be grateful and thoroughly enjoy it. I have, in my pretentious past, been to multiple starred restaurants by myself…. I was such an arse- being all ‘foodie’. But now, honestly, I would rather eat a perfectly grilled whole fish on the bone and some potatoes cooked in goose fat and a few nice leaves. Or a beautiful confit duck leg. Or a butterflied leg of lamb with yogurt and garlic and mint. Or a perfect white peach. A perfect white peach is the holy grail for me. If you found one and roasted it with amaretto. I WOULD kill you.
What Ferran Adria and Heston Blumenthal do is amazing. Don’t get me wrong. My ode to El Bulli can be found elsewhere in these pages but they have created a monster. Because now all across the country there are Chefs significantly less talented than these two firing out ‘molecular gastromomy’ dishes. In pubs. I don’t want scampi foam in a basket and I don’t want my scotch egg liquefying in my mouth in a puff of nitro glycerin or whatever it is they use.
It’s making me grumpy now. And I’m tired. And I’m probably only jealous that there are chefs out there who are more committed, more creative and more talented than me. But in a hundred years will we still be cooking ’sous vide’ or garnishing a mosaic of beetroot with de-hydrated beetroot ‘dust’ . No we bloody won’t. And actually I’m not in the slightest bit jealous now I think about it. I’m in a foul rage of a mood and if someone gives me cubes of jelly and utterly inappropriate micro herbs on my poxy dinner one more damn time, I am going to shove something so far up something else that they will quite simply be dead.