The Pedant in the Kitchen

I would have missed this short but lively tome about the 'eccentricities' of cookbooks had it not been by the acclaimed Julian Barnes (Flaubert's Parrot)! The 'pedant' part comes from his ongoing argument with the inexactitude of cookbooks. I have the same problem! (BTW, there is one wonderful chapter removed from his dismissive doctrine, concerning that 'hodge-podge' drawer we all have in our kitchens: his contained 22 choptsticks, four bottle stoppers, a stolen airline fork, and an almond.) Herein, is my contribution to any potential sequel: I have before me this delicious-sounding recipe, Chicken & Potatoes with Mustard Vinaigrette. It says it takes 20 minutes, so by my standard, we are looking at an hour! It also makes six servings, show more so for me, that's about three! So now, I am fired up! But wait? It requires Kosher Salt! WTF is that? I already possess iodized AND non-iodized salt (and I have yet to know the difference), so now I need salt blessed by a rabbi? Why can't I use salt? Also, it requires one large garlic clove. How am I supposed to know about the size differential of garlic cloves? I am expected to know that? Oh, it is supposed to be 'minced;' I know that word: it describes the tiny steps Mick Jagger takes when he belts out "Satisfaction!" There can be no other meaning! Capers? Drained? What in God's name are those? (In Shakespeare's time, a 'caper' was a sort of joke.) And, finally, this kills me: the recipe asks for watercress, and it [?] must be 'stemmed.' What is watercress? And what is 'stemmed?' And, to make this recipe totally incomprehensibe, it wants me "to fold in" the mysterious stemmed watercress BEFORE serving! Fold in? Like paper folds? Like Ben Folds Five? I give up! No chicken for me, but rather a round mound of ground beef carefully grilled and put [folded?] into a mustard-laden 89-cent bun! I get it Julian Barnes! Let me into your club! show less

"Cooking is the transformation of uncertainty (the recipe) into certainty (the dish) via fuss".

Yes, Julian Barnes is a cook after my own heart. Like him, I first tentatively approached cooking as an adult, and have leaned heavily on having the cookbook handy when preparing a meal. Like him, my reach has often exceeded my grasp, with unfortunate results.

This short book is a collection of articles by Barnes where he recounts his misadventures in the kitchen, and renders plaudits and brickbats to the cookery writers he has tried to follow. There are plenty of laughs, and even more rueful smiles as one recognises oneself in his efforts.

I wouldn't like to be in a kitchen with the author who comes across as more than a pedant - irritating, demanding, irritable and a perfectionist are words that come to mind. However, I enjoyed the book and, in particular, the stimulating illustrations by Joe Berger, juxtaposing books and food. They make the book. I liked the theme too - how should the classic cook books be interpreted: Beeton, David, Grigson, Pomiane, etc?. Be a bit flexible in interpreting what they say seems to be the best policy. The whole is an original perspective on cooking and the classic cook books.

Barnes is not a natural cook, rather he is a follower of the recipe, an acolyte of the great cookery writers, but most of all a pendant.

In this delightful little book he takes several subjects and writes a short essay on each. He writes about dinner parties, the exact dimensions of a medium onion, the frustrations of some cook books and the delights of others.

There is some great advice in here too. When doing a dinner party, do as they do in France, and buy one of two of the courses. Don't ever make the River Cafe chocolate nemesis, dried pasta is as good as fresh and that the most useful gadget for a home kitchen is a sign saying; This is not a Restaurant.

I am starting to like Barnes as a writer more, Not a word is wasted, nor is show more there a morsel out of place. show less

A sprightly, amusing piece of fine writing from Mr. Barnes in which we learn of successful and failed recipes from a gamut of cookbook authors, Mrs. Beeton to Nigel Slater with fond nods to Edouard de Pomiane, Elizabeth David, Jane Grigson, Richard Olney, Marcella Hazan, etc. It spurred me into whipping up a successful Craig Claiborne "Chicken With Almonds" from the NYT Cookbook (1961). The book mentions his favorite recipes and foodstuffs (don't forget the root vegetables) as well as odd bits such a kitchen drawer clutter and dinner party size (6 and never more than 8). He closes with a quotation from Joseph Conrad who wrote an introduction to his wife Jessie's cookbook: "Of all the books produced since the remote ages by human talents show more and industry those only that treat of cooking are, from a moral point of view, above suspicion. The intention of every other piece of prose may be discussed and even mistrsted, but the purpose of a cookery book is one and unmistakable. Its object can conceivably be no other than to increase the happiness of mankind." show less

Very funny cooking memoir with Lots of dry, witty English humor

This is what good food writing is all about - funny and witty without being snide; writing about food and the joys (and disappointments) of making it and sharing it; writing that makes you want to wander into the kitchen and try to whip something up yourself.

Barnes self-depreciating humour is fun to read - he doesn't take himself too seriously but you still get the impression that he takes his lack of culinary perfection a little too hard.