Instructions
In the last several years, restaurants throughout the world have become laboratories from which emanated foams, smokes, crumbs, smears and crisps. At times it has even been hard to work out which is the plate, and which the meal. It seemed that the only way to eat an ingredient was in its most unnatural form.
Reviewers canonised this culinary mode with the grand title ‘Molecular Gastronomy’, and heeded the call of its principal cardinals Pierre Gagnaire, Ferran Adria and Heston Blumenthal.
Yet while, to the lay observer, their cooking seems a grand renaissance and the re-invention of cookery, it was in fact the next most natural step in the evolution of French cuisine.
Since the indulgent days of the Roman Empire formal European dining has been transformative. The true test of a chef has been her power to take one ingredient, and have it seem to be another. The Turducken (a roast spatchcock inside a duck inside a turkey), leaping fish made entirely of lobster aspic, and gingerbread palaces complete with pulled sugar moats and choux swans have long been the marker of a truly exquisite banquet.
In some ways, all that these famous modern chefs have done is to democratise access to these beaux arts. Once a luxury enjoyed solely by courtiers, it is now anyone’s for $300 a head. So, kind of democratic!
Many of the modern techniques and devices used to transform foods are reliant on specialist concoctions made big pharmaceutical firms, not artisan farmers. But the most important ingredient in a creative chef’s arsenal hasn’t changed in 2000 years. It’s gelatine.
Extracted from animal bones and hides (not hooves, despite the mythology), gelatine is a powerful setting agent that enables liquids to solidify and powders to become crisp. Gelatine is converted collagen, and is used in a massive variety of ways: medical capsule shells, jelly babies, marshmallows, cosmetics, photographic paper, making playing cards slippery. Synchronised swimmers even use gelatine to keep their hair in place under water.
But once you put the beakers down, and take off the lab coat, the best use for gelatine is still in making simple, beautiful desserts. Pannacotta, pate de fruits, or just a simple jelly.
If you’re vegetarian or have religious issues with meats, there are seaweed- and seafood-extracted versions readily available (agar-agar and isinglass), and recipe conversion isn’t hard.
As for me, I’m a simple guy and simple food is what I love. There’s nothing better than a perfect chocolate jelly melting slowly on a hot evening. And I’ll wager that we’ll continue to enjoy dishes like that long after molecular gastronomy has vanished in a puff of its own smoke.
Chocolate rum jelly with kiwi fruit and plum salad