3 December 2007
Why Cookbooks are Exactly like Porn, part I
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Have I ever told any of you about my recurring erotic dream? The one that, for lack of a better word, INVOLVES Nigella Lawson?
Well, I'll get to that.
I have this theory about cookbooks, and, by extension, cooking videos.
The pages are glossy and the pictures are so real that you can see the veins in the lettuce and almost smell the marrow in the osso buco. Something about the experience of thumbing through well-composed food images just triggers every sensory receptor in your body, every visceral survival instinct - to touch, smell listen and taste... And you know what? NOTHING you make in real life will ever, ever taste that good.
And here's the scary part: Reading a cookbook makes me less hungry but more unsatisfied.
Over time you acknowledge this, and just accept cooking literature for what it is: A weak substitute which just dulls your appetite for the real thing.
Let's review: It is a tantalizing vicarious experience, appealing to multiple senses. Glossy color images. Primal instincts. And an unsatisfying feeling once you've consumed it.
Okay, that's called PORN.
There is no way around the point: food literature is essentially pornography. It's meant to be a friendly guide, an appetizer to be consummated in the kitchen rather than clumsily thumbed through on your couch... just as, well, you get the idea.
I offer two cooking videos as examples.
I'm including these because, after once more resolving to "eat better, " I had the audacity to once more cook myself a "last meal." The precise nature of this meal will remain a dark secret only to be shared with my nutritionist, but these two courses were present.
First, no-knead bread. I've been making this stuff for about four months now. Hyperbole aside, this bread is both easier to make and infinitely better tasting than any bread I have ever cooked.
Note at the end, how he cuts the thing open. He turns the sound on for a second, and you can HEAR the crust being slowly sliced through and the steam billowing out.
Which brings me to my dream.
In it, I find myself wandering around aimlessly, either in a butcher shop or the meat section of a high-end grocery store. Either way, I am filling my basket/cart full of meat. No potatoes, no onions, no butter, no paper towels or baguettes or pineapple juice or salad greens or Tylenol Gelcaps. Just meat. Package after package of lamb shoulder, bone-in roasts, pork tenderloin, chickens, veal, cornish hen, steaks, and whatever else.
In some versions of the dream, i explain to a passerby my shopping rationale. Sometimes it's in response to a question from the butcher. In some cases, though, I just KNOW why I'm buying such copious amounts of meat products.
Why?
Because, see, I am producing the Nigella Lawson Pay-Per-View special.
In the special, the TV chef will prepare multiple courses of meat in various states of undress, explaining the subtleties of dealing with hunks of flesh in her sultry British Accent. She'll slowly massage a gooey marinade into a veal shoulder, some will splatter on a blouse, and she'll be like, "oh, i MUST get this into the washing machine right now," as she starts to unbutton. You get the idea.
Cookbooks are like porn because there will always be an erotic element to food. If you don't believe me, please notice 3:06.
cat Wrote: James & I are tweaking a recipe specifically for your visit... and it will be AWESOME! Beth has no idea about this b/c I know she would tell you & ruin the surprise. Spies. All of you. ...................
Julie Wrote: I've made the chocopots. They ARE porn. ...................