’tis the season for… Scotch. So here’s the new Macallan distillery, with a wildflower-laden roof that merges into the countryside!
Food
Wonder Wednesday
Woah. “Toronto chef cuts things into super-thin slices,” is accurate, but “thin” is not epic enough to describe just how crazy-thin he can slice things! Mad knife skills!
Amazing…
Philosophy Tuesday
I’ve shared before my love of the film Ratatouille, especially the bits of it that are wonderfully philosophical. (See this post, this post, and this post.)
But there’s one bit in Ratatouille, right near the end, that I’ve come to realize that I’d been kinda ignoring to some degree, but even more so I have been willingly misinterpreting it. Because to take it straight pretty much undermines the main theme of the whole film.
It’s this bit from Ego, during his review:
“In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau’s famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.”
It’s that last sentence. For one, it seems to be at odds with the simplest readings of the motto to instead say: “Anyone can cook / but not really. (Though hey, maybe that person can, and they don’t know it, so let them try).” For two, it could be trying to create some strange distinction between cooking and capital-A art: “Sure, anyone can cook, but there’s cooking and then there’s Art Cooking (and most certainly not everyone can do the latter).” Which leads to three, which is that this really seems to be trying hard to make a case that some people got it, and some (most) just don’t. A few are blessed, while the rest are ordained to be ordinary.
This whole thing reads as though Ego is fully endorsing the Tyranny of Talent.
Which is a big NOPE! for me. We are not squeezed out into this world being a genius or being a dunce; being a cook or being a GREAT CHEF ARTIST (or, equally, being totally food incompetent). I do not subscribe to this kind of genetic essentialism. We have so many influences, so many avenues, and, most of all, we can shape ourselves, grow, learn, and develop. With enough time and patience and practice and clarity, we can elevate our skills to ridiculous levels.
Which, it turns out, is how I have been (again, willfully and intentionally) misinterpreting that line from Ego for all of these years. I’d twisted it to be expressing this: “Not everyone _will_ become a great artist (because not everyone will have the time or choose the time or have the opportunities or the support systems or the luck or the desire or any of those), but we all have the capacity to do so, and thus anyone, from anywhere, could become a great artist, no matter where they came from or where they are right now.”
Which is much more in line with the theme and with Gusteau’s own motto. We can all develop our craft. We can all express ourselves and create something delicious. And even if we never reach the idealized world of Great Art, who cares – it can still be damn good. Let’s eat.
Wonder Wednesday
Architecture Monday
This is cool. In a mountain village well known for its tofu, a new commercial kitchen that allows for the local families to not only hone their craft, but do so in a food-grade-certificate environment.
Gently stepping down to follow both the landscape and the adjacent river, this is no typical industrial-food ‘factory’. With its assemblage of sawtooth roofs and windows all around, it’s the very definition of light-filled and keeps the cooks connected to the community. And vice-versa, opening up this region’s traditions for all to see, whether local or a new tourist clientele. Like a series of terraces, the stepping nature of the building and site also allows for gardens and greenery all the way down, leading to a tofu-tastic tasting room.
Count me as a fan of this. Great use of the the program, matching the process of tofu making to with a long and linear building that is further enhanced by using the natural topography of the site. Add in a great use of elegant wood construction with plenty of glass and the rich tones of the stone floor that’s nicely mirrored in the kitchen’s counters. Great stuff.
Tofu Factory by DnA
Philosophy Tuesday
“There are not more than five musical notes, yet the combinations of these five give rise to more melodies than can ever be heard.
There are not more than five primary colours, yet in combination they produce more hues than can ever been seen.
There are not more than five cardinal tastes, yet combinations of them yield more flavours than can ever be tasted.”
— Sun Tzu
Wasa that doing there?
Wasa Bread is great. Totally delicious. So I was excited to find this in the store:
Hooray! Must try. And I did, and they are exquisitely good. Happy dance time!
But… then there’s this:
Four. Wrapped. Bags. Inside. An excess. Of plastic. For crackers.
Still delicious. But not keen at all on the packaging…
Architecture Monday
Another building tonight by one of my favs, BIG Architects… but something decidedly different in scale, scope, and form from much of their other work. It is a restaurant that becomes a village.
The starting point for the project is itself quite nifty, the adaptive reuse of a protected warehouse that once stored mines (explosives!) for the Royal Danish Army (that is also, humorously, across the river from and affords a great view of BIG’s power plant and ski slope (I am not making that up… this is an actual thing!)). Due to the landmarked status of the building, the buildable area was very limited, only being allowed in the small areas where small extensions had been erected in times past. The client was an avant-garde restaurant serving reinvention of Nordic cuisine. Oh, and they wanted greenhouses to supply their kitchen. Ready? Go!
The result is quite glorious. BIG settled on three main starting points: filling the existing landmarked structure with the “back of house” functions, off of which hangs a kitchen that in turn off of which radiates a number of small pavilions to form a village of architectural forms. Each one of these pavilions has its own character both inside and out, and each have their privileged views both outwards towards the nature preserve, water, or the city, while each also have a view to the central and open service kitchen.
There’s a lot of beauty to be found here in the meticulous detailing of all the seemingly disparate buildings. Brick roofs! Highly articulated ceilings with glowing skylights! Striated stone walls! Rough brick and sensual wood! A feeling of old and new dancing together! Cozy enclosure and expansive windows! And to literally top it all off, an amazing glass roof that connects everything together.
And while it might be considered “dead simple”, the entry way is what entices me the most for the way it serenely presents itself, a lovely mass of steel and wood, seemingly-symmetrical-but-in-actuality nestled between two differently crafted pavilions. The proportions, the combination of materials, the way the overhang invites and calls forward, it’s all so very well done.
Yeah, gotta add this one to my list of places to visit (even if I can’t get a reservation within). There’s something magical in this assemblage, and I want to experience it in person.
The poison chronicles
“The lack of regulation meant that companies could pretty much put whatever they wanted into food with no fear of being held accountable. “[Food] wasn’t safety tested, because there were no rules requiring that,” says Blum. “It wasn’t labeled because there were no rules requiring that anyone tell you what was in your food. And it wasn’t illegal even if you killed someone.”
Companies were adding copper to vegetables to make them look greener and 20 Mule Team Borax to butter as a preservative—assuming it was butter and not beef tallow or ground-up cow stomach dyed to look like butter. Spices contained things like ground coconut shells, charred rope, brick dust, even floor sweepings. Honey was often little more than dyed corn syrup. The phrase “a muddy cup of coffee” might date back to this era, when ground coffee typically contained dyed sawdust, tree bark, or charred bone, and fake coffee beans were made out of wax and dirt. “I’m especially bitter about this, because I love coffee,” says Blum.
Dairy suppliers were among the worst offenders, adding pureed calf brains to milk to make it look more like rich cream, thinning the milk with water and gelatin, and then adding dyes, chalk, or plaster dust to correct the color. Worst of all, they added formaldehyde—then widely used as an embalming fluid to slow the decomposition of corpses—to milk as a preservative. (The additives were given innocuous names like Rosaline and Preservaline.) Hundreds of children were sickened, and many died, from the tainted milk. Formaldehyde was also used as a preservative in meat.
That was the driving force behind Wiley’s radical “Poison Squad” project. (He actually referred to it as “hygienic table trials”; journalists gave it the more colorful moniker.) He recruited several young men to be his guinea pigs—all of whom signed waivers—and provided them with three healthy square meals a day. The catch: half of them also were given capsules containing borax, salicylic acid, or formaldehyde. Wiley started with the borax, thinking it would be the safest additive, and was alarmed at how quickly his squad members sickened.
The results convinced Wiley that federal regulation was necessary to protect American citizens from the dangerous and fraudulent practices of food suppliers. Naturally, industry leaders pushed back against Wiley’s proposed legislation. The National Association of Food Manufacturers formed around this time, along with chemical industry manufacturing associations, as companies pooled their resources to oppose the ominous specter of government regulation. They even instituted a smear campaign against Wiley. One trade journal called him “the man who is doing all he can to destroy American business.”
…
With Roosevelt’s support, Congress finally passed the Meat Inspection Act and the Pure Food and Drug Act in 1906.”
— excerpt from this great article at arstechinca
It’s amazing to me that this was just over a hundred years ago. That until then you had to spend time and effort and worry to check every thing and even with that work could never know for sure if what you were getting was what you thought you were getting and you or others could easily be sickened or maimed or die.
It’s also a great story about the scientific method, of curiosity, of rigour, of courage in the face of opposition, and a commitment to your fellow human beings.
Definitively makes me want to read the book about Dr Wiley.
Architecture Monday
Adaptive reuse, highly textured and rugged insertions, large mechanical devices operated by hand cranks… yep, it must be a design by Olson Kundig!
And how! Once an old mechanic’s garage, the walls, ceiling, and windows all proudly wear the patina of time. Within this rich background are added the equally industrial-like bits to turn the space into a winery and a company HQ. Large pivoting windows replace the old garage doors, allowing the tasting room to become part of the sidewalk and vice-versa. Everything within the room (including a large seating platform that doubles as a stage) is movable to allow as many uses as possible, from tasting to dinner to dancing to poetry to music jams.
Offices occupy the other half of the building, separated by or alternately opened to the winery via a single step up and large sliding solid steel plates that fit the look perfectly.
Yeah, I like this one a lot. It hits so many of my aesthetic inclinations. Good stuff.