My interest was piqued when I saw this article posted to one of my food blogs recently. For those of you unfamiliar with the field of molecular gastronomy/deconstructivist cooking/avant garde cuisine/whatever insiders are calling it at the moment, Ferran Adria is widely considered to be the founder, most influential, and most visible figure within the movement. Accordingly, El Bulli, his restaurant on the Catalonian coast in Spain, is the movement's Mecca, where mere thousands out of a pool of two million are actually able to land reservations to experience his one of a kind, 4 hour long, 30+ course tasting menus. What was so surprising about the article, however, was Adria declaring that, for the money, there simply was not a better burger than that prepared by McDonald's. Which, to me, raised a very important point of consideration. How do we compare the quality of everyday fare versus extraordinary indulgences? Can the familiarity and warmth of that with which we are familiar be likened to the excitement and sense of adventure we experience when trying something truly unique?
Now, the last time I had a fast food burger was maybe two years ago and before that, easily ten years. So maybe burgers aren't the best example for me. But I know I do have a similar conundrums. What about the virtues of my Bubbe's oil, ketchup, and onion slathered meatballs compared to those that I've had in Little Italy, or for that matter, Italy itself? Or how does a homemade ice cream Sunday compared to this masterpiece I experienced (to say ate would be dismissive) at Wd-50. Let's forget about food even. It's no secret that one of my favorite movies is 2046, a Hong Kong art house film directed by Wong Kar Wai and starring a whole host of China's finest actors. But then...I also love Harold and Kumar as well as Orange County, neither of which could ever pass for a high brow movie in a hundred years, nor would I even refer to either as a "film".
Thinking about things through this lens, my answer came much more easily. To me, these dishes and films have to be judged independently of one another, any direct comparison would just be unfair. The money issue aside, unlike Bubbe's meatballs or H&K, spheres/clouds/foams/emulsions/other molecular delights and 2046 are not as always as easy to appreciate or, both literally and figuratively, digest. One of the reasons that we can enjoy the ordinary so much is that we know what to expect, and when that expectation is met, it is a very fulfilling experience. The challenge, and potential reward, of veering into the more adventurous is that while you do not know what to expect or if you will even enjoy the experience, you may be greatly surprised by what you ultimately get. Sometimes, the genius of a plate of food or film can only be appreciated through the type of scrutiny one would associate with an art critic in a museum. I myself would even describe one or two of my dishes at Wd-50 as mundane or overly complicated and 2046 as a 2.5 hour long, ill-paced, dense clunker that punishes the viewer that is unfamiliar with Wong's earlier work and is not prepared to really analyze the film. Should we really want to have to endure that drill every time we want to attempt to enjoy a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or chick flick? That's absurd. At the same time, however, to dismiss high cuisine or film as pretentious would be self-sabotaging. So in that spirit, go out and eat your big macs, just like Adria himself says. But also make an effort to indulge, in one manner or another, your adventurous side and accept the disappointments that will inevitably accompany your search.
Petit Four:
So David Chang, of Momofuku fame, and his pastry chef Christina Tosi are opening a milk bar in the East Village. Am I wrong to be deathly afraid of this venture ever opening, lest I be molested by some English droogs wearing fake noses serenading me with "Singin' In The Rain"? Damn you Kubrick.
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