Basically, molecular gastronomy is cooking combined with chemistry that translates into dishes that are far too over-prepared. When most people hear the word "Frankenfood" they think of genetically modified crops. I think of a chef with a test tube and an Erlenmeyer flask churning out repellent foamed sauces to go on foodstuffs that resemble nothing meant for the human pallet in either taste or texture.
Not content with ruining people's dinner at a premium price, kitchen sadism has spread to the quiet refuge of the lounge, where there is now something that could be called molecular bartending, of which the Times has a frightening example:
“Take the Super Soda, for example. Really it’s a classic Tom Collins,” (says Tony Conigliari of London's Shochu Lounge), putting in front of me a tall glass of viscous liquid with green bubbles suspended in it. Alongside it is a paper perfume swatch. What he has done, he explains, is re-created the notes of the perfume – Soda by Comme des Garçons – by cooking lemon grass, lime and geranium essence in a vacuum with Tanqueray, lemon juice, sugar and gelling agents, and then stirred in frozen grapes and small pearls that he has made by syringing liquid cinnamon and nutmeg into a calcium base. At least I think that’s what he said. The result is like no Tom Collins I’ve tasted. You smell the perfume swatch and take a sip.Then dash for the gents before the gag reflex becomes overpowering.
We used to laugh at the Romans with their hummingbird tongues dipped in honey, but 21st century Britain has definitely done them one up in the decadence stakes. I remember when a cocktail was having a splash of tonic and in your gin and bitters. And if you were really on the cutting edge of depravity you might ask the barman if you could have a piece of ice with it.
If no one was looking, of course.
5 comments:
Well, I'm sure that if you want the choice of having no choice in drinks, there's probably somewhere to cater for you.
This is just another novelty thingy. No harm. (also, those hummingbird tongues coated in honey sound delicious, if a tad small)
As a matter of fact, I do know such a place. It's a little country pub in Ireland (the location I shall not divulge)that serves naught but Guinness straight from St. James Gate and Irish whisky as God intended. Every night they line up the glasses five minutes before opening and reload as the evening progresses.
If there's ambrosia on the menu, what need of anything less?
Hey, if people want surrender their dowry just to scour their soft pallet with a liqueur resembling battery acid, then it’s their God-forsaken right.
Just sit back and enjoy the masochism, I say.
Exactly.
I'm not saying that I'd ever want to (I'm not much of an alcohol person at the moment; of course, that may change), but if someone wants to, then bully for them.
I honestly can't believe THIS is your review of molecular gastronomy. While this 500-word overview is riveting and full of relevant personal experience, I still think you should try it again.... or for a first time, since the experience listed isn't even yours.
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