Instructions
For many years I have held firmly to the belief that when you do less, the ingredients can do more. After all, the food is supposed to be the hero, not the chef.
The logical extension of this idea is that the simpler the food you want to cook, the more this concept really comes into its own. Now, on the surface that might seem to be a paradox. With fewer ingredients to play with, why would you want to do less with them?
I guess it comes down to a simple distinction between the urban and rustic views of cookery.
For the urban chef, the world and its offerings are imperfect and require taming. It is primarily a matter of ‘man over nature’. A carrot becomes a puree, an apple becomes a crisp wafer, and a fish becomes a jelly. Urban cookery is clever, talented and precise, and it is also transformational. Indeed the recent history of food has been a celebration of exactly this idea. Chefs like Ferran Adria and Heston Blumenthal have stood at the altar of this Gnostic cookery, championing the mysticism of molecular gastronomy.
By contrast, culinary rusticity sees the world as complete in its own right. The apple plucked from a tree in perfect ripeness is sweet and juicy – it has the essential character of all that is apple. In what way could this be improved?
And so these extremes sit as the poles of our gastronomic world. A chasm of distinction lies between them, with no apparent philosophical accommodation. What is needed is some kind of middle ground.
As hard as it can be to see gourmet trees in this forest of food, the middle ground is full of very tall timbers. Some of the greatest dishes of all time fit precisely this bill – they taste perfectly of their core ingredients, with little adulteration. Consider chocolate mousse.
Made in the classical French style it requires only five simple ingredients – eggs, sugar, chocolate, liqueur and cream. From this perspective it celebrates the best of the rustic tradition. Yet the defining additional ingredient is good technique: the chef must bring skill to the table. Whip the eggs and sugar until as light as air, melt the chocolate without over heating it, and whip the cream to the softest of peaks. So it also requires the discipline of urban cookery.
By blending these two distinct styles, mousse brings out the best that food has to offer. What’s more it is infinitely adaptable. Just add less cream for milk or white chocolates, and play around with the liqueurs for a range of flavour possibilities.
Possibly, just possibly, by creating such a splendid mingling the light may shine in a new direction – equally on the food, and the chef.
Oh well, rules were made to be broken.
Classic chocolate mousse with Grand Marnier and boca negra/