Cooking...

There is a serious argument that takes place every so often as to whether great cooking should be considered an art. I always take the view that it is the eye of the beholder, or in this case the mouth, that should decide the argument.

In my lifetime I have eaten at some of the best restaurants in London and one or two in Paris and New York and invariably I have been pleased and satisfied. I’m not over adventurous. For instance I’m not that keen on Game. Many years ago in London’s oldest restaurant, ‘Rules’ of Maiden Lane, my wife, more daring than me, ordered ‘Jugged’ Hare. She said she enjoyed it and she did seem to eat it with some relish but the smell was so repugnant I could not bring myself to taste even the small sample she offered me. Again I now love Oysters but it was years before I felt confident enough to swallow them, I was always fearful of choking while they were halfway down my gullet, I’ve never tried snails or tripe or Cods’ eyeballs so I can’t be considered a ‘gourmet’ much as I’d like to be. I did have sweetbreads once and thought they were delicious but made the mistake after eating of asking the chef what they were. The common belief is that they are lambs or calves testicles, this is not the case but they are the glands of young animals.

For many years I couldn’t cook. My wife, who I considered a cook par excellente, would ask me to watch her and at least learn the rudiments of cooking in case anything happened to her. I would laugh and tell her “don’t worry, I’ll be gone long before you”, sadly this wasn’t to be. When Shirley, my wife, became ill I would do my best, buying all those easy to cook dishes from Marks and Spencers that are such a boon to working wives and, as she wasn’t eating much we got by. When Shirley died I carried on in a desultory way but gradually I started to cook, one day I even made a complete roast dinner and over the years I have tried my hand at most things until now I’m reasonably competent. I know my wife would have been quite proud of me.

We can only read and wonder at the great cooks of the past, chefs like August Escoffier, Brillat-Savarin and Prosper Montague, they all created acclaimed and memorable dishes, banquets and extravaganzas to entertain the Kings and Queens, Presidents and Dictators, Poets, Playwrights, Actors and Divas of Europe and America All the great chefs seemed to be French and they were famed and feted throughout the world, mighty hotels in London, Paris, Rome and New York vied for their services.

As recently as the 1960s’ Internationally known chefs were French, Swiss, Austrian or Italian, the concept and the ability seemed beyond Britain. There were of course great restaurants run by great restaurateurs but the man in the street didn’t have a clue who the cook was, as long as the food was tasty and nicely presented in good surroundings that was it. There was a school of thought that decor or ‘ambience’ was just as important as the food, more so said some critics.

Things started to change when men like Nico Ladenis entered the restaurant trade, he ran ‘Nico’s’ in Battersea very successfully for many years and because of his success he opened a place in the lush countryside where his customers were mainly farming and fox-hunting types not in the least interested in ‘haute cuisine’ and he made headlines by refusing to put salt on the table or cook a steak well done. He regarded his customers as ‘barbarians’ and didn’t last very long. Robert Carrier also helped to change the scene opening ‘Carriers’ in Camden Passage and suddenly there was all these new restaurants and cuisine's all refreshing the taste buds. Then there was ‘nouvelle cuisine’ a very light way of cooking, using only the freshest possible ingredients this was supposed based on the cooking of Paul Bocuse though the term had been used before. At the same time another great chef, Michel Geurard thought up ‘cuisine minceur’ which was even more refined, using only natural ingredients cooking everything, even vegetables in their own juices, using no or oil fat at all but tasting delicious and being arranged on an outsize plate with the colourful ingredients arranged like an impressionist painting.

Of course we had TV chefs the first one I can remember was Phillip Harben, a mild mannered, bespectacled and bearded man with a striped apron who gave lessons in cooking in a straight forward manner, that was on black and white television and was not at all exciting, it was left to another English cook to inject some drama into cookery programmes this was Fanny Craddock a larger than life character, whose personal appearance, a cross between Marlene Dietrich and Danny La Rue, and her sometimes outrageous statements, caused more comment than her dishes which, though colourful, didn’t appear particularly nice, wholesome or tasty.

Nowadays we have wall to wall cookery programmes, Cooks ‘goings ons’ are given as much prominence in the tabloids as pop stars and footballers. Gordon Ramsey and even his in-laws make headlines. New restaurants which seem to have ‘gala’ openings every week are reviewed in all major newspapers. The higher the prices the better the reviews and the reviewers have become celebrities themselves, their descriptions of the food, the decor, the friendliness or otherwise of the staff try to outdo each other week by week. It’s a competition to see who can be most spiteful or fulsome in their praise. Some of it is so over the top they must be running out of adjectives, in fact sometimes I wonder if they are paryoding themselves.

If I could afford it I would be able more truthfully to assess the quality of the food and the truthfulness of the reviews. Even if one has plenty of money I’m told that some of these places as well as being particular about who they let in have waiting lists so long it could be months and in that time they would have changed owners or cooks.

Even pubs nowadays have become gastro pubs. Maybe the first gastro pub or maybe the first half a dozen were ‘gastro pubs’ but surely not now. Not now the pub companies do the pubs up the same battle ship grey, the same pine floors, the same garbed in black waiting staff, surely they are just pubs serving food, some times good and sometimes bad just like before.

Getting back to the question is cooking an art or a craft? I believe it can be art. If an individual can cook and present something which when you look at it makes your heart skip a beat and when you taste it your heart not only skips but your eyes fill with tears and your hand shakes as you lift the next morsel to your lips then it is art. Maybe your Mother was an artist or your wife or brother. Some people are born to cooking and I believe they can aspire so high that they can be classed as Artists.

Others will never riser above craftsmanship. They can go to catering college, be apprenticed to Gordon Ramsey, open their own restaurant and be sold out every night and still lack that greatness. I believe that is what a Michelin 3 star should be about but I also believe there are many unknown artists out there working in cafes, pubs and ordinary kitchens who only a few people will know about.

There is someone I know who works in a local pub as a chef, his food is pretty good but whenever I hear he is going to make a meat pudding I try to go there, it is simply sublime, the best one I’ve had since I was a small boy. I guess we all know people like that who can achieve greatness with one dish but the true artist is one who achieves it every time.