Head and Shoulders Above The Competition

You might think that this post is going to be about the utter redundancy of candles on a table that is clearly being lit with a photographic light with a mega wattage resembling that of the sun. The vegetables are practically cowering from it as their shadows attempt to escape.

“What we need here to complete this picture are several candles,” someone thought as they adjusted their shades. “They will set just the right tone by providing a warm and cozy glow to offset the harsh reality of being served an entirely raw vegetable platter.” Perhaps the cook imagined that the camera lights would flash-cook them when the photo was taken.

There was a time, in the late 1970s, when food stylists reflexively added candles to every shot, as if candles suggested class and comfort. But every type of candle has clearly been lit only seconds from the shutter clicking, so that no wax be allowed to spoil the elegance. The candle, perhaps is also meant to suggest the hearth, the cooking flame from whence the food has so recently been removed.

But you’re wrong.

This isn’t about that at all.

It’s about using untoasted sesame seeds for a garnish. Dandruff, anyone?

Gourmet Christmas Cookbook, Ideals Publishing Corp., 1978

Also from this book: Ho Ho Ho Hum

Randolf, The Red-Nosed Rainmoose

If you are the sort of person who views garnishes with suspicion — that they are being used to hide some deprecation of the food they are meant to enhance, say — then you might be on to something.

The word garnish comes to us from the Proto-Germanic term warnejan, which lead to the Old High German warnon, “to take heed” and from which we have the English warning. The stem of the proto-Germanic word lead to the Old French garniss, or garnir in the 14^th century, meaning “to provide, furnish, fortify or reinforce.”

To garnish, or embellish a dish in the culinary sense dates from 1700, and comes to us English via the sense of outfitting oneself with arms for war.

If you have a lot of time on your hands, you might want to explore some extreme garnishing by turning two innocent apples into turkeys. Be sure to use plenty of lemon juice so they don’t turn brown halfway through!

Garnishing: A Feast For Your Eyes, Francis Talyn Lynch, 1987

Also from this book: Cabbage Christmas Tree, Carrot Fishing Net

Carrot Fishing Net

The Pearl, Continued

News of the great pearl that Kino had found and the terrible luck that it had brought him soon reached beyond La Paz. Fishermen in distant cities told the story of his pearl, of Coyotito’s murder, and of the way Kino and Juana never spoke of what had befallen them in the mountains.

Once the pearl was returned to the sea, Kino knew he would have to rebuild his life. Because he had no canoe, and no brush house, he and Juana simply slept upon the shore of the estuary, keeping warm with a fire made from driftwood and eating fish Kino caught with a line he collected from among the rocks. They spoke to no-one and no-one spoke to them; it was as if they were ghosts on the periphery of the town. It was considered bad luck to approach them, and even Juan Tomas stayed away.

Years passed in this way until the town’s memory of Kino’s misfortune was buried along with the citizens who’d known of it first-hand. He became a legend whom children fancied lived a very long time ago. The doctor choked to death on a fishbone and was mourned by no-one, not even his cat. The beggars on the church steps carried on begging for scraps. The town kept on breathing, and children kept on being born, and pearls kept on being bought and sold and the pearl fishermen knew that nothing could be done.

Eventually, Kino grew too old to wade into the sea, so to keep himself occupied while Juana went into the town, he sat and carved elaborate fishing nets out of carrots. In his dreams, each net held baby Coyotito before that fateful scorpion bite, giggling as Juana prepared corncakes. Then his son was replaced by a great pearl, glistening in the moonlight. Then the pearl was replaced by a skull, bleached clean by the sea and the sun. Then Kino woke up and carved another net, hoping each day to catch a different dream.

Garnishing: A Feast For Your Eyes, HP Books, 1987

Also from this book: Cabbage Christmas Tree, Randolph The Red-Nosed Rainmoose

Salad Worms and Melon Whales

Dear Lover of Fine Food:

This book is an experience in garnishing. At your next party, you can impress your friends with your new discoveries. Your guests will not only enjoy your fine cooking but also will appreciate your garnishing artistry.

Encouraged by the overwhelming success of your fine cooking and garnishing ideas, you will continue to create sumptuous garnishes that inspire your guests to ask you to share your expertise with them.

*    *    *    *

What the authors of How To Garnish have failed to grasp is the fundamental raison d’être of their materials. A garnish is meant to accent the main event, to support the qualities that make the dish appealing. A touch of contrasting color, or a complementary flavor, or a visually interesting texture all provide the dish with a sense of charm and thoughtfulness. A few pea shoots that have dropped from heaven onto that dab of crème fraiche remind us of the delightfully moist and clingy nature of that pale dollop. Otherwise it lies there like a shiny blob.

One is not required to eat the garnish, however, especially if color and texture are the point. In Chinese restaurants one is often confronted with an elaborately carved accompaniment: a radish flower, say, or a spring onion froth. Children devour these with joy. For many years in Western cuisine the only garnish one ever saw was a sprig of parsley, often the only green on the plate. The thing is that  parsley looks like the dish has been accented with green pubic hair, or like a Chia Pet project, so it became the vogue to snip parsley all over the plate like green dandruff. Now parsley is all but banished from the kitchen for fear of being disconcertingly retro. It practically screams "I have a lack of imagination."

You can go a step too far in the other direction though. 

Judging by their seemingly coke-fuelled creations, this ought to be called “How NOT to Garnish.” Do not, for example, serve lettuce embellished with worms, even if they are made from carrot and radish. No-one likes caterpillars with their salad.

The watermelon creature filled with balls has lost all the dignity it may once have had, and that is not a birthday-scape; it is a crime scene that looks like the aftermath of a deranged speed binge whose perpetrator crashed before the children arrived.

The art of garni is no joke; ask Ferran Adrià, who made a career out of reinventing it. Actually if you get to speak to Ferran Adrià, don’t say anything: just get down on your knees and bow your head. Show some respect.

How To Garnish, Harvey Rosen, International Culinary Consultants, 1983

Also from this book: Sea Cucumber