I can't remember ever being so disappointed in a cookbook. The hype was HUGE!
First off, I should say that there is a massive gap between home cooking and cheffing, and I am a home cook with a home cook's preoccupations: put healthy food on the table, 3 X's a day, with variety, an eye to seasonality and what's on sale at the grocery store, using as few pots as possible, wasting as little as possible. I don't often have dinner parties. I'm not looking to WOW every meal, but I want every meal to be nice, well cooked, and healthful, and I don't want to kick my own ass in the process. We don't eat a lot of processed food and we seldom eat or order out and I'm always looking for ideas that are fresh and easy and tasty. I may be an outlier. I may be a market of one.
Chefs approach things differently: all knife skills and an assumption of an industrial oven, unlimited pantry, and dishes that just disappear after dinner. It's why I prefer Nigella or the Smitten Kitchen recipes over, say, Anthony Bourdain (RIP) or any of those guys on the food network. They're chefs. Their concerns are not my concerns. Their reality is not my reality.
I appreciate this book and what it's trying to do, but I feel like it fails every audience except aspiring chefs and maybe the odd person who really wants to wow at Thanksgiving but otherwise doesn't cook.
Samin Nosrat, newsflash, WORKED AT CHEZ PANISSE which she manages to work into a paragraph once every two pages. It's the "One time... at band camp..." of this book. And I'm sure that was a wonderful preparation but almost every chef who comes out of that restaurant writes a book which is entirely blind to the needs of cooks who don't live in America's breadbasket, with farmer's markets stuffed with glorious produce. Most of them write what I consider kind of porny-aspirational cooking books that your aunt gives you for Christmas and you browse through and delude yourself that you are going to gather all the ingredients for a first-rate roast goose with beet salad served over organic blood oranges and fresh greens all garnered from the farmers market, but you never do, and the book sits on you shelf and signals to your friends that you have taste.
This book IS more informative than the normal Chez P fare. It wasn't anything I didn't know- the ground has been trod by Harold McGee, Shirley Corriher and Alton Brown to name a few- but if you don't know how to properly salt things, or how various fats interact with flour, or how to buy olive oil, this book will be a good and accessible reference for you, and will probably immeasurably improve your cooking. I found it had blind spots, though, even in this category. She goes on about lean vs. fatty, tender vs. tough cuts of meat, and I know from my own experience trying to teach myself to cook that the novice cook, (defined here as one who doesn't know how to properly salt the water for pasta) doesn't know a pork loin from a pork shoulder and that a guide to which cuts of meat are fatty, lean, tough and tender is essential. It's a weird blind spot in this book.
I was irritated again and again by the cheffiness.
"Next time you roast a duck try..." I'm sorry next time I roast a duck? Like that's a thing?
Or my favorite,
"That night, I halved the apricots, removed the pits, and stuffed each half with a filling made of almond paste, almonds, and the little Italian cookies called amaretti. Then I placed the apricots on a piece of parchment paper, drizzled them with a few drops of dessert wine, sprinkled them with sugar, and wrapped up the cartocci. I baked the parchment packages in the blazing-hot oven for about 10 minutes, until they puffed up with steam, and then rushed them to the table with bowls of whipped crème fraîche. After a refined multicourse dinner, the simple pleasure of tearing open the packets, smelling the apricots’ heady perfume, and tasting their balanced sweet-tart flavor delighted our guests to no end. Even now, years later, when I bump into folks who were guests at that meal, they dreamily reminisce about the apricot cartoccio. I never cease to be amazed at how good a simple preparation can be."
A simple preparation.
A simple preparation.
In my little hausfrau mind, this isn't simple. To recreate this I somehow have to chase down almond paste, amaretti from wherever the fuck, apricots that aren't hard as rocks or fruit-fly ridden, (I live in Alaska, this is impossible) creme fraiche for ONE MEAL, and then have a bottle of dessert wine on hand even though neither my husband nor I particularly like dessert wine. This isn't simple to anyone who isn't in a commercial kitchen in San Francisco. Yeah, popping it in the oven wrapped up- no probs. Everything else a logistical nightmare.
She admits that she struggled a bit when she started cooking at home and had to deal with a real range, in the book. I also heard her interviewed on The Splendid Table where she admitted that she couldn't keep up with cooking every meal for herself. And that's for herself- I don't know about you but when I'm cooking for myself I am the least picky eater ever. A can of beans with tuna on top? Sure. She's not even cooking for two and she's struggling. All of her examples are dinner parties or anecdotes from restaurants. She also mentions her grandmother a lot, who would spend literally all day in the kitchen making elaborate, multi-course Persian meals for her large Persian family, because that was essentially her job. So between those forces which shaped the author as a chef, there's no, what to do when you're alone in the kitchen with an eggplant. Her recipes assume that this is event cooking, because indeed, I don't think she knows how to cook when it's not an event.
Towards the end she gives advice about par-cooking in advance and heating up when you're about to serve which is SOOOO CHEFY.
"This is exactly the kind of thinking restaurant cooks employ to cut down on the time it takes to prepare a dish to order without compromising quality."
Great advice for Thanksgiving, great advice for a dinner party, great advice for someone starting a catering company.
Terrible advice for someone who just wants to learn some tricks to make delicious meals easily, without spending her life in the kitchen.
She's profligate with pans- If your sauce isn't reducing fast enough just split it among three pans!!! Smiley face! Problem solved until you're crying over the dishes later. And she's profligate with energy. To get a proper sear, merely heat your pan for 20 minutes at 500 degrees. No big. The owner's paying the gas bill, right?
Oh wait, you're the owner, the dishwasher, the purveyor AND the cook?
Huh.
This book doesn't have much to offer.
Except some wicked Thanksgiving recipes.