The Pedant in the Kitchen

I really enjoyed reading this book -- funny and entertaining - read the entire book in one sitting - couldn't put it down. I chuckled and chuckled.

This is a delightful hands-on demystification of how to cook well by cooking simply. It's especially worthwhile for recipe slaves like me who fear departing from what's on the printed page. Barnes strikes a blow for freedom, for simplicity, and for adventure in the kitchen. I've given the book to friends who, like me, enjoy cooking but are often daunted by the prospect.

Barnes wasn't joking when he entitled this book with the word 'pedant' in it to describe his obsession with things culinary. This text is littered with illustrations of just how particular he is, not just about cooking, but also about accuracy, both in the details of recipes and what impressions he draws from other's works or opinions and how they affect him. "Of course, this still leaves you faced with preparing 'an excellent dinner' for 'those one is fond of'. Again, listen to Pomaine: `For successful dinner there should never be more than eight people. One should prepare only one good dish.' These are his italics, not mine. Don't they make the heart lift?" (p117) Barnes injects humour into his preoccupation with food preparation and consumption: its ingredients, how they are sourced, their preparation, their origins and any quirky historical fact associated that might add piquancy. In this book Julian Barnes excels at two things: 1. Unearthing interesting and slightly obscure facts about people, vegetables and the mundane experiences of maintaining a kitchen. "But then there is the other drawer - the one where items of sporadic usefulness live, the one where everything is tangled up and furtive, into which you insert a tentative hand, not knowing where sharp edges lurk. When did I last empty it? Ten years ago?" (p121-122) 2. Analysing ideas and reflecting wittily on things other than food. "We might as well suggest that current American military zeal is a consequence of that nation's love of fast food - in which case, an infantryman's widow would probably have a lawsuit against the nearest burger outlet. And if anyone is tempted to believe in an automatic link between protein and aggression, don't forget that Hitler was a vegetarian." (p133-134) Barnes is an idealist and experiences angst in his desire to reach perfection in the kitchen. Gladly he recognises this and employs self-deprecation, along with sprinkles of culinary history to make this a small but satisfying dish to digest. One small quibble, there are no references to the texts he refers to. It seemed rather ironic after all Barnes' plaints about cooks not revealing all the tricks of their trade in their cookbooks, that he should leave the detail of the sources he refers to out.

Originally written as columns for the Guardian, this collection of foodie essays is by turns hilarious and instructive, as in how many hangman's nooses (one to five) to ascribe to a meal that is going bad fast while hungry guests are whooping it up in the living room, and how the relationship between professional and domestic cook is similar to a first-time sexual encounter ("No, I won't do that"). On every page I found something that made me holler "Comrade!" I have so been everywhere this guy has been in the kitchen.