I love literate science and cultural micro-histories. I also love and health, growing my own veggies and cooking healthy meals. So I’ve been a huge Pollan fan since 2006, when my sister-in-law brought me The Omnivore's Dilemma for Christmas. Pollan hits on all cylinders.He’s a cultural critic, but unlike most cultural critics, his lense is food, not literature or pop-culture TV. movies or music, which makes him unique. He’s a food writer that doesn’t obsess about creating Michelin 5-star ingredients and esoteric food prep techniques, or present Bitman-esque reams of minimalist recipes.
Instead, Pollan uses his bully-pulpit to dissect the negative impact that industrial food companies have had on the health of Westerners. And that impact’s been horrible:increases in obesity, diabetes, the risk of heart disease, stroke, cancer, etc. He’s also scientific in his approach, citing research, but unlike many a science or pop-diet writers, refuses to take the easy, reductionist answer. He doesn’t focus on single-elements of a diet (like the Atkins ‘kill the carbs, eat meat’ nonsense). Not does he jump on the “superfoods” bandwagon, saying we should all eat kale (or whatever the superfood of the moment is) every day for breakfast, lunch and dinners. And he scoffs at things like the “paleo diet,” a marketing ploy that’s a quixotic tilting at wind turbines in the 21st century. In fact, he’s the only new agey type guru I know of who advises AGAINST taking dietary supplements, whether vitamins, minerals or extracted nutrients .
To Pollan, the good nutrition is more than a sum of vitamins, minerals and phytochemicals. Instead, whole foods create a holistic system that exploits our evolutionary machinery for turning foodstuffs into health. Due to ancillary phytochemicals, minerals, etc, a real apple contains, your body extracts more useable vitamin C from it than it can from a vitamin C tablet. Which is why he advocates eating diets of real, whole foods for optimal health.
Cooked continues Pollan’s top-shelf bibliography. In it, he traces four ways that humans cook food: fire, water, air and earth.
He starts with fire, apprenticing himself to a big-talking North Carolina pitmaster. There, he notes the Homeric and biblical similarities our modern barbeques, especially communal pig roasts, to their ancient cousins. Both are open-air, male-centric, extroverted celebrations of a successful hunt. He then moves onto the element water, where he learns to braise meats and stews in closed, domestic vessels. This practice is introverted, hearth-bound and feminine, but responsible for our most tasty, cherished and economical of dishes.
After tackling the big-two, the books rambles into the truly interesting… at least for me, since I seldom visit these realms. For the element air, Pollan learns the skills of artisan breadmaking. It turns out that there’s more to making bread than dumping yeast into a flour dough. In fact, for master-bakers, it’s an obsession that has them bringing their sourdough “starters,” a living culture of yeast and bacteria which give sourdough bread its unique taste, with them to the movies so they can “feed” the starter on schedule. Obsessive, for sure, but the results a tasty, often peerless loaf.
And then Pollan takes you into earth, the world of fermented food products. Pollan makes clear that fermentation is controlled rot. Think cabbage. But not the store-bought variety, often desiccated cabbage soured with vinegar, but how they make kraut in the old world. Shred the cabbage, put it in an airtight pot and let the bacteria present on the cabbage itself rot the cabbage to produce sauerkraut. Pollan’s “teachers of rot” include a half-cracked HIV-positive prophet of ingesting live bacteria named Sandor Katz, to a Catholic nun with a PhD in biochemistry who makes a traditional smelly-as-unwashed-feet French cheese for her convent. Pollan finishes playing basement brewmaster, lending an appreciation to the complexities of fermenting alcohol.
As always with Pollan, Cooked left me amazed by the breadth and depth of his insights. He’ll quote Nietzche, a contemporary archaeologist, a down-home pitmaster and then a scientific study on the health benefits of a whole food diet within the same page. Odd bedfellows, but Pollan has the knack for making the disparate hang together. Like a good cultural critic, he connects readers to heretofore unrealized deep traditions that hide in plain sight. Like a good food writer, he focuses on the artful preparation of food and understanding it’s histories. And like a top-flight science/ health writer, he highlights evidenced-based strategies we all can use to live healthier lives.
A rare, page-turner of a non-fiction book. Four-and-a-half stars, rounded up to five.