Why cook at all?
Cooked by Michael Pollan
In Cooked, Michael Pollan explores the previously uncharted territory of his own kitchen. Here, he discovers the enduring power of the four classical elements-fire, water, air, and earth-to transform the stuff of nature into delicious things to eat and drink. Apprenticing himself to a succession of culinary masters, Pollan learns how to grill with fire, cook with liquid, bake bread, and ferment everything from cheese to beer. In the course of his journey, he discovers that the cook occupies a special place in the world, standing squarely between nature and culture. Both realms are transformed by cooking, and so, in the process, is the cook.
Each section of Cooked tracks Pollan’s effort to master a single classic recipe using one of the four elements. A North Carolina barbecue pit master tutors him in the primal magic of fire; a Chez Panisse-rained cook schools him in the art of braising; a celebrated baker teaches him how air transforms grain and water into a fragrant loaf of brad; and finally, several mad-genius “fermentos” (a tribe that includes brewers, cheese makers, and all kinds of picklers) reveal how fungi and bacteria can perform the most amazing alchemies of all. The reader learns alongside Pollan, but the lessons move beyond the practical to become an investigation of how cooking involves us in a web of social and ecological relationships: with plants and animals, the soil, farmers, our history and culture, and, of course, the people our cooking nourishes and delights. Cooking, above all, connects us.
In Cooked, Michael Pollan reveals an astonishing fact: The average American spends only twenty-seven minutes a day on food preparation, with an additional four minutes for clean-up. This is even more mind-boggling given the fact that Americans are probably spending more time watching food-centric programs than actually making meals at home-as the popularity of Master Chef, Top Chef, and I suspect the entire Food Network can attest. Yet when it comes to our own kitchens, Americans are all too willing to outsource food production, whether that’s dining at a local restaurant or buying “ready-to-eat meals” at the frozen food aisle. Which all begs the pressing question of this book: Why even bother to cook?
From learning how to do a traditional barbecue to baking bread to making his own home brews, each stage in Pollan’s culinary education gives him a different answer as to why we should-we must-cook for ourselves. When he spends time with a famed pitmaster in North Carolina, spending hours and hours banking coals and basting the pig and eventually chopping it up, he learns that cooking has decades and decades of history that cannot be easily replaced. Barbecue in particular has evolved into a Southern tradition, one that began among slaves but ended up bringing together, in its own way, blacks and whites, if at least for only one evening meal. From his stint with artisanal bread and cheese makers, Pollan learns that cooking has made him self-sufficient and independent. Instead of being a passive, ignorant consumer, a mere cog in the food industrial complex, he has a finer appreciation for what actually happens when bread or cheese is made-and moreover, can make them at home with relative success.
However, it is his apprenticeship to a Chez Panisse-trained chef that crystallizes why cooking is an essential skill: It brings families and entire communities together to eat from one communal meal. Learning how to braise meat and make stews out of one pot, Pollan notes how the lingering smell would bring his wife and son from wherever they were in the house and hover in the kitchen, which would inevitably jump-start conversations about their day and whatever else is going on in their lives. In a culture that’s pressed for time, cooking miraculously slowed it down so that everyone in his family could come to the table.
As a thoughtful rumination on cooking-how it came about and why it matters-I really enjoyed Cooked. On a micro level, it demystified artisanal foods like whole-hog barbecue and home-brewed beer, showing that it’s possible to make them at home too (or at least, a modified version). On a macro level, Pollan argues that outsourcing our own food preparation to big companies has serious consequences not just on our health but also on the fabric of our families and communities. However, I couldn’t help but think of the implicit social and economic privileges associated with cooking. There’s no doubt about it, but preparing a meal is becoming a luxury activity, both in terms of time and money. When a shopping trip to Whole Foods can easily come out to over $50 for one or maybe two meals, or when the average American worker gets home too late to muster the energy to cook, then cooking is possible for only a specific, well-to-do slice of American society. I don’t think a full-scale revolution in home cooking (as Michael Pollan strongly hopes for) won’t be feasible until America’s workplace and economic norms also adjust.
In Cooked, Michael Pollan explores the previously uncharted territory of his own kitchen. Here, he discovers the enduring power of the four classical elements-fire, water, air, and earth-to transform the stuff of nature into delicious things to eat and drink. Apprenticing himself to a succession of culinary masters, Pollan learns how to grill with fire, cook with liquid, bake bread, and ferment everything from cheese to beer. In the course of his journey, he discovers that the cook occupies a special place in the world, standing squarely between nature and culture. Both realms are transformed by cooking, and so, in the process, is the cook.
Each section of Cooked tracks Pollan’s effort to master a single classic recipe using one of the four elements. A North Carolina barbecue pit master tutors him in the primal magic of fire; a Chez Panisse-rained cook schools him in the art of braising; a celebrated baker teaches him how air transforms grain and water into a fragrant loaf of brad; and finally, several mad-genius “fermentos” (a tribe that includes brewers, cheese makers, and all kinds of picklers) reveal how fungi and bacteria can perform the most amazing alchemies of all. The reader learns alongside Pollan, but the lessons move beyond the practical to become an investigation of how cooking involves us in a web of social and ecological relationships: with plants and animals, the soil, farmers, our history and culture, and, of course, the people our cooking nourishes and delights. Cooking, above all, connects us.
In Cooked, Michael Pollan reveals an astonishing fact: The average American spends only twenty-seven minutes a day on food preparation, with an additional four minutes for clean-up. This is even more mind-boggling given the fact that Americans are probably spending more time watching food-centric programs than actually making meals at home-as the popularity of Master Chef, Top Chef, and I suspect the entire Food Network can attest. Yet when it comes to our own kitchens, Americans are all too willing to outsource food production, whether that’s dining at a local restaurant or buying “ready-to-eat meals” at the frozen food aisle. Which all begs the pressing question of this book: Why even bother to cook?
From learning how to do a traditional barbecue to baking bread to making his own home brews, each stage in Pollan’s culinary education gives him a different answer as to why we should-we must-cook for ourselves. When he spends time with a famed pitmaster in North Carolina, spending hours and hours banking coals and basting the pig and eventually chopping it up, he learns that cooking has decades and decades of history that cannot be easily replaced. Barbecue in particular has evolved into a Southern tradition, one that began among slaves but ended up bringing together, in its own way, blacks and whites, if at least for only one evening meal. From his stint with artisanal bread and cheese makers, Pollan learns that cooking has made him self-sufficient and independent. Instead of being a passive, ignorant consumer, a mere cog in the food industrial complex, he has a finer appreciation for what actually happens when bread or cheese is made-and moreover, can make them at home with relative success.
However, it is his apprenticeship to a Chez Panisse-trained chef that crystallizes why cooking is an essential skill: It brings families and entire communities together to eat from one communal meal. Learning how to braise meat and make stews out of one pot, Pollan notes how the lingering smell would bring his wife and son from wherever they were in the house and hover in the kitchen, which would inevitably jump-start conversations about their day and whatever else is going on in their lives. In a culture that’s pressed for time, cooking miraculously slowed it down so that everyone in his family could come to the table.
As a thoughtful rumination on cooking-how it came about and why it matters-I really enjoyed Cooked. On a micro level, it demystified artisanal foods like whole-hog barbecue and home-brewed beer, showing that it’s possible to make them at home too (or at least, a modified version). On a macro level, Pollan argues that outsourcing our own food preparation to big companies has serious consequences not just on our health but also on the fabric of our families and communities. However, I couldn’t help but think of the implicit social and economic privileges associated with cooking. There’s no doubt about it, but preparing a meal is becoming a luxury activity, both in terms of time and money. When a shopping trip to Whole Foods can easily come out to over $50 for one or maybe two meals, or when the average American worker gets home too late to muster the energy to cook, then cooking is possible for only a specific, well-to-do slice of American society. I don’t think a full-scale revolution in home cooking (as Michael Pollan strongly hopes for) won’t be feasible until America’s workplace and economic norms also adjust.