Gourmet Rhapsody

admin — Sat, 13 Feb 2010 01:00:00 +0000

Food has become a very controversial subject, many arguing that education levels, income, and race unfairly dictate the availability of fresh foods and vegetables in low-income American neighborhoods. Though Muriel Barbery (The Elegance of the Hedgehog) does not focus specifically on these issues in her recent novel Gourmet Rhapsody, the division between the working class and the wealthy as it pertains to food and quality of life is often glaringly apparent in the story.

The premise of the novel is simple: The world’s greatest fictional food critic, Pierre Arthens, is dying and wants one last bite, but what that bite is, he does not know. Barbery uses beautiful, sumptuous language to describe the critic’s most fond food memories as he attempts to pinpoint a single flavor that constitutes “the first and ultimate truth” of his life.

Gourmet Rhapsody mostly takes place in Arthens’ bed, where he’s been confined since receiving word that he is dying. Every other chapter is narrated by the food critic and focuses on a specific food from his past such as tomatoes, mayonnaise, and bread. Be warned: Arthens is not a likable character; he is self-important, condescending, and rude. Think Vogue/New York Times food writer Jeffrey Steingarten, but with more clout, French flair, and venom. Arthens is a man who repeatedly cheats on his wife, drives countless chef’s aspirations to hell with glee, and who refers to his children as “monstrous excrescences.”

Thankfully, the chapters of Barbery’s book that aren’t focused on Arthens' quest for the mystery flavor are narrated by others who have known the critic in some capacity. Here the concierge, who has spent his life dutifully tending to Arthens' children and guests and catering to his every whim gets to weigh in, as does the housekeeper who’s looked over the critic’s home for the past thirty years. It is with these characters that the class divisions are perfectly illustrated; they are simple, hard-working people who don’t understand their boss’ cruelty or his quest for one more bite, despite a life filled with the best food imaginable. To them, it seems a hell of a lot like gluttony and in many ways, it is.

We also hear from Arthens' family members, such as his daughter Laura, who has grown cold and hateful of the father who's been more concerned with stuffing his face and chasing after women than with being a loving parental figure. We also hear from his wife, who is aware of his indiscretions but who’s stayed by his side for whatever reasons women in similar situations do. She is pained and frantic, desperate to keep her husband alive and eager to help him find that last, elusive taste.

It would be incredibly easy to hate Arthens, but what saves him from being completely unlikeable is his overwhelming love and passion for food. I have to believe that a man who can describe a rustic meal as “two thin slices of raw, smoked ham, silky and supple along languid folds, some salted butter, and a hunk of bread” has to have some redeeming qualities.

In the end, Arthens does get his last bite and it’s quite unexpected, though fitting. At one time or another, all of us come to long for the simple things of our youth, things we thought we’d forgotten until one day we get a whiff of them or a glance at them while walking down the street. This unique form of human longing and emotion is what ties us together, despite wealth, class, or race, and Barbery does a beautiful job of making this apparent through the use of food, all the way down to the last page.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, February 12th 2010

The Cheese Chronicles: A Journey through the Making and Selling of Cheese in America, from Field to Farm to Table

admin — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 09:18:00 +0000

By Liz Thorpe

Ecco

Upon receiving Liz Thorpe’s The Cheese Chronicles, I had to ask myself: Do you really love cheese enough to get through 366 pages of it? The answer, apparently, is yes.

Now, I detest the term foodie. My boyfriend teasingly calls me a foodie in his WASP-iest voice. It seems so pretentious, so elitist, so... stupid. I can’t deny, though, my great love and interest in all things food. I love to cook. I read recipe books like novels while curled up in bed. I could watch the Food Network all day. I can happily spend two hours in a grocery store. I look at food porn. I love to eat. I love to feed people. You get the picture.

I’ve recently come to the conclusion that cheese is my favorite type of food. It is featured in every dish I love to eat and cook, and Thorpe’s loving opus to all things cheese only whet my appetite for this surprisingly scientific food.

Out of the blue, Thorpe decided she wanted a career in cheese and began her journey working behind the counter at the now famous Murray's Cheese Shop in New York City. Since then, the Yale graduate has become the managing director of the shop, where she teaches classes, finds interesting new cheeses, and works with chefs interested in featuring beautiful, American-made dairy on their menu. Thorpe is said to have professionalized the craft of cheese making while also highlighting the incredible love and passion of the people who inhabit it. We’re not talking about commercial operations here, though Thorpe is quick to point out that some of those cheeses are decent as well. The book, however, mostly focuses on small dairy farms located throughout the U.S. that are making some exquisite cheeses.

If you’ve ever seen the offerings at your local chain grocery stores, you’ll understand why cheese making isn’t considered one of America’s strong points in terms of culinary prowess. Simply put, good quality cheese isn’t as important to most Americans as it is to people in other countries. We like American on our burgers and stringy mozzarella on our pizzas, but that’s all changing. As the country becomes more interested in where the food they eat comes from, the want and need for "real" cheese is growing, and so is the average American’s willingness to pay a hefty price for artisanal, locally-made cheese.

The process is tedious, requiring just as much knowledge of science as nature. People of all kinds are making cheese all over the country, and much of it is being sold at local farmer’s markets, never to be experienced by those even one town over. There’s something fantastic about that. Cheese is supposed to be seasonal, but thanks to hormones and a few other tricks, dairy farmers can now milk cows, goats, and sheep year-round, but that’s obviously not what nature intended. Many artisanal cheese makers milk their animals when nature intended, which is just after breeding season when the animal has naturally-made milk to give. The cheese offered by these purveyors is in high demand.

I’ve learned an extraordinary amount about the art—yes, art—of cheese making from The Cheese Chronicles. Unfortunately I cannot afford high end cheese on a regular basis, but after reading Thorpe’s book, I fear I can’t ever go back to the cryovaced cheddar of my youth. When eating cheap, poorly made cheddar cheese, you can taste bile at the back of your throat, a surefire indication the cheese you are eating is shit. Now that you know what that stinging, sour sensation is in your mouth, you can never go back.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, August 19th 2009

gourmet

Gourmet Rhapsody

The Cheese Chronicles: A Journey through the Making and Selling of Cheese in America, from Field to Farm to Table