The Flavor Thesaurus, Niki Segnit (365 Books, Day 163)

[rushthatspeaks]

Thrud picked this up for me because she thought it was the most different cookbook she'd seen in a while. I agree that it is-- organizationally, at least.

Segnit has selected ninety-nine separate strongly flavored ingredients, sorted them into categories to make them easier to handle, and then written about the things that can be made with each potential pair. (She decided on pairs because combinations of three or more ingredients would make the book insanely long.) Her goal is not really to provide recipes, although there are some; she assumes you can already cook. Her goal is to help you learn to improvise, to think about different flavors together, to get into the habit of mentally juxtaposing the tastes of all the things in your fridge and seeing what might work.

I really love the organization of this book. It includes combinations I would never have thought of but that make sense (such as rhubarb and saffron), combinations I've worked with forever (such as pork and apple), and combinations I need to be talked into (such as white chocolate and olive, which she is quite insistent about but which I cannot as yet manage to believe).

I am marginally less keen on the execution. There are ways in which she's done very well. For each combination, she goes in one of several directions: sometimes she discusses the ways the combination has been cooked with in various cultures, and that is generally wide-ranging and well-done; recipes from the entirety of the world show up here. Sometimes she talks about the chemical makeup of each food, whether they share any flavor compounds, and whether particular varieties of each have ever been described as having notes that taste like the other. This works pretty well, too, in suggesting possible cooking avenues and specific areas in which to begin experimentation.

However, sometimes, especially with the more outré pairings, she talks about famous chefs and dishes who have attempted it, and this-- well. It becomes a bit starstruck, and a bit testimonial, and a bit about how lucky she has been to be able to eat at a great many very famous restaurants. In short, it becomes amazingly pretentious. More pretentious than you are imagining. No, even more than that. She is always talking about quaint little places far out in the country (which country? pick one, anything from Provence to Morocco) away from the tourist trade and then insisting that she can't remember where they were. And she lapses into alliteration, which makes me raise an eyebrow, and at one point into verse, which makes me back away slowly. And she is desperately searching for a new set of words with which to describe the flavor of each of her individual ingredients in its summary, a dilemma with which I sympathize, but which she has rather comprehensively failed to conquer. I do not, for instance, think that cardamom ought to be compared to 'a sinus-cleaning stick', and if you have to try to describe cloves by comparing them to holy basil something has gone wrong somewhere.

Fortunately, the way the book is organized means that she is changing her subject every other paragraph, so we never get too much of anything particularly egregious at once. And she can be clever, and she can be charmingly down-at-heel, although not when she's trying to be, and the system she has designed is so interesting. Just, there are points at which you may need to grit your teeth a little and remember it will all be over soon.

As a way of getting me to think about flavor and food differently, it definitely works. The section on parsnips came damn close to sending me into the kitchen to look up baking ratios, because she mentioned that parsnip, which I love, used to be as popular in cakes as carrots are now, and also-- and this could have sent me to the store in the middle of the night, if the store weren't shut-- that parsnip goes really well with anise. I am making a parsnip cake with star anise, cardamom, molasses, and nutmeg, walnut cream cheese icing, just as soon as I have the brain to do the recipe adaptation and go out and buy the parsnips. I will let you know how it comes out.

Comments

[oracne]

That sounds really interesting, except for the parts where it is annoying.

[rushthatspeaks]

Exactly.

[green_knight]

That sounds like a weird and fascinating book, and I think it's much more in line with my way of cooking 'let's see how this will work out' than the 'you need to use exact amounts and follow directions exactly' school of cooking.

[rushthatspeaks]

It works much better with my cooking-brain than just about any other cookbook I've met, which is why I'm going to hold onto it despite moderate annoyance at the writing style.

[sovay]

and combinations I need to be talked into (such as white chocolate and olive, which she is quite insistent about but which I cannot as yet manage to believe).

I share your skepticism. That sounds like a dessert I would make for someone I wanted to scar for life.

(I admit it doesn't help that I don't actually like white chocolate. But still.)

I do not, for instance, think that cardamom ought to be compared to 'a sinus-cleaning stick'

Er.

I am making a parsnip cake with star anise, cardamom, molasses, and nutmeg, walnut cream cheese icing, just as soon as I have the brain to do the recipe adaptation and go out and buy the parsnips. I will let you know how it comes out.

I do not love parsnips, but I'd eat the rest of that cake in a heartbeat: I look forward to the full report.

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Curiously, I'd believe white chocolate and olive at least enough to try it (not as a dessert, but maybe as a savoury, in the old fashioned way), but am sceptical about rhubarb and saffron (two such astringent flavours...).

But the parsnip cake - oh, yes! (durham_rambler's birthday is March 12th, and he refers to the parsnip as "God's own vegetable", so a report / recipe before then would be very much appreciated.

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Yet again I fail to close a bracket...

[desperance.livejournal.com]

)

There. Fixed that for you.

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

The author recommends rhubarb and saffron as a sauce for a simply cooked white fish, and states that the goal is to have the saffron be elusive but present.

I am going to make the parsnip cake as soon as possible, which means probably this weekend.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

White chocolate is barely food. But parsnip cake, now. That's got promise.

(I think I am still in mourning for the One True Piece of Carrot Cake I had in early 1997, before that cafe was destroyed by fire. Sigh.)

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

I also consider white chocolate unfood. Also, they ought to call it something other than chocolate.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I believe almond bark is a different thing, which is a shame. Vanilla bark, perhaps?

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

Hm. I've seen vanilla-flavored milk chocolate labeled 'vanilla bark', although I don't think it's a universally applied label.

I'd probably call it cocoa butter candy. Which sounds about as appetizing as I think the substance is.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

That makes sense. I like it.

[fiddledragon.livejournal.com]

Hmmm...I now want to try white chocolate and oil-cured black olives.

[lizw.livejournal.com]

Yes, that was my thought. Definitely black rather than green.

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

Apparently Vosges makes a white chocolate-kalamata olive bar.

[ashnistrike.livejournal.com]

I've had Vosges' white chocolate and olive oil truffle, and my only objection is that there is white chocolate in it. But I can report that, to the degree you approve of the ingredients individually, it is in fact a good combination.

It sounds like what I very much want from this book is an abstracted list of pairings!

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

I dislike white chocolate intensely.

Some of the more unusual pairings (IMO): black pudding and chocolate, watercress and grapefruit, hard cheese and white fish, hazelnut and garlic, rutabaga and anise, cauliflower and chocolate (dark chocolate only), bacon and anise, bacon and (black) cardamom, rhubarb and cucumber, dill and coconut, avocado and coffee, hazelnut and rosemary, watermelon and tomato, grape and avocado, rhubarb and mango, pineapple and anchovy, coconut and beet.

[ashnistrike.livejournal.com]

Okay, that makes me want to check whether we still have hazelnuts in the pantry. With garlic and rosemary, mmm.

I'm only just discovered the joys of beef bacon last year, so I'm enjoying finally getting to play around with that particular flavor.

Cauliflower has taste? Is it something like tomatoes, where you have to grow it yourself or go to a farmer's market for the non-cardboard variety?

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

I'm not sure, because I'm a supertaster, so cauliflower of all sorts has always had a taste for me, and not one of which I am terribly fond-- it's less bitter than broccoli, but more sulphurous. I may well try it with dark chocolate, though, because I can imagine the two kinds of bitter playing well with one another.

The taste combination I found in medieval cooking and keep forgetting to mention to people is that one can, and should, salt pomegranate kernels as though they were popcorn. eredien has also proved to me that you should put quantities of black pepper on sliced grapes.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

We used to go to a perfectly ordinary Italian restaurant that ground hazelnuts into their tomato sauce. I can't imagine that it wouldn't have been good with rosemary also.

My dad used to make white fish and hard cheese for the two of us when Mom was at class (because Mom is allergic to fish--I know, a Scando allergic to fish, what on earth), so that sounds totally normal to me. Especially with either almonds or bacon along with.

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

Yeah, the hazelnut ones make intuitive sense to me, but I'm used to the 'nuts are for dessert' school of cookery-- which is the same school of cookery that has people like Escoffier yelling about how you should never ever ever serve cheese with fish. Honestly, with French fish and cheeses he is probably right. I can see how it would work, now, but I'd never run into that one in the wild.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

See, I am picky about nuts in dessert, so I used to think I didn't like nuts all that well. Then I started using them a lot more in savories, and it turns out I love nuts, I just don't always like sweets.

[tiamat360.livejournal.com]

hard cheese and white fish

This I can see working because white fish is often very bland.

bacon and anise

This could be quite interesting, in a good way.

watermelon and tomato

This mostly reminds me of watermelon and feta salad, which can work, so I suspect this can too. (Similarly, I expect the grape and avocado would work well in a salad.)

pineapple and anchovy

Personally, I despise anchovy, but pineapple works very well with savory foods, so I can see this making sense if you like anchovy.

cauliflower and chocolate

It's a story 'bout broccoli cauliflower and chocolate...

[ashnistrike.livejournal.com]

Also, has she figured out what to do with vanilla bean and mushrooms? Because I'm quite certain that it would be a good thing, under the right circumstances, and equally certain that I've so far failed to produce those circumstances.

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

She has not specifically dealt with vanilla and mushroom, but mentions in trying to use vanilla in a different savory application that what you want to do is make a wine sauce using a wine that has vanilla notes, so the wine can form a bridge between the sweet and the savory. I bet a vanilla-ish sort of red wine would make vanilla and mushrooms possible.

[ashnistrike.livejournal.com]

That makes sense. I will have to ask my in-laws about appropriate varieties. I only use alcohol for cooking and am very bad at making distinctions, but my brother-in-law has worked at a winery.

I think maybe I actually do need this book.

[rachelmanija.livejournal.com]

Great concept. The execution sounds hilarious in all the wrong ways.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Actually not all of the wrong ways, just some of 'em. The book's not perfect, but there is nothing like it, and it is amazingly useful.

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

Well, only some of the wrong ways. I mean, I am definitely keeping the book, because I keep coming up with new recipe ideas by flipping through the index.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

If you treat parsnips as carrots and go with the same quantity/ratio, it's got to be close enough for Chaz...

[sorenlundi.livejournal.com]

I have never had white chocolate with olives, but I am very fond of dark chocolate with olive oil, on a baguette and sprinkled with sea salt (you cut the baguette into slices and then toast them in the oven until the chocolate melts).

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

That sounds lovely and I will try it. Do you put the olive oil on the bread first, or over the melted chocolate?

For some reason olive oil seems more reasonable to me than straight olives, probably because it's less salty, but that's silly because I like chocolate and salt, so I should try to get over it.

[sorenlundi.livejournal.com]

It's good either way, but I usually put it on over the melted chocolate. If you put it on before you put them in the oven the toast is crispier, but there's less raw olive oil flavour. Salt goes on last so it will stick.

I am also having a little trouble with the idea of whole olives, but maybe they just need a lot of chocolate to even out the saltiness. I'll have to try it next time I buy olives.

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

Duly noted, and thank you.

I am definitely going to chop the olives very fine when I try the olives-with-chocolate.

[nineweaving.livejournal.com]

Dorothy Hartley praises parsnips for a "sweetness that mingles with honey and spice" and gives a recipe for "parsnip pie for February": to sieved cooked parsnips add honey and ginger, lemon juice and zest, and an egg yolk. "Line a flan pan with thin crisp pastry," fill with the "golden mush" and lattice. Bake. Pile a meringue of the egg white, sharpened with a bit of the lemon rind, round the edges, and set that in the cooling oven. "Serve cold, garnished with primroses at the cross of the lattices. A very pretty country dish."

Nine

Nine

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

Ooh. I may have to make that too, if everyone isn't violently sick of parsnips.