A pervasive new trend in food writing now threatens to eclipse all others, and there’s no relief in sight. This trend is “comfort.” It’s a tricky subject, precisely because the word—not to mention the idea—is so emotionally charged. After all, who doesn’t like comfort food?
About Joseph Tobin
Consider the Eel; Women Who Eat Dirt; Dog Eating and the Dilemma of Diversity; Asparagus Ice Cream; The First French Tomato Recipe; Spanish Thistle-Bloom Cheese; The Child’s Physiology of Taste; Cuisine with a Conscience; Revolutions in Wine; 19th-Century Cooking Magazines; and more…
I have never wanted to run a temple of gastronomy, the kind of restaurant people come to solely for the food, the conversation limited to present culinary creations or past gastronomic pilgrimages.
The words “invention” and “patent” often conjure images of mad inventors working frantically in their workshops, or of visionary technological developments such as the light bulb, the automobile, the airplane, the radio. A sandwich probably would not be among the objects that the general public would consider worth patenting.
Maybe it’s just my own obsession, but everyone these days seems to be talking food. September saw the first IACP/Gastronomica Food History Symposium, held here at Williams College for a group of nearly one hundred.
The Patented Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich; Alaska’s Vanishing Arctic Cuisine; Ghanaian Cuisine; Apple Parers; Confessions of a Tea Drinker; Memories of an Exiled Shetlander; Being Married to M.F.K. Fisher; Pho; Brownies: A Memoir; Food Irradiation; The Emerald Isle; The East Passage Club; Getting Sauced Sitting Down; The Bloomsday Diet; and more…
When I opened my restaurant sixteen years ago, the word “hospitality” was foremost in my mind. I directed my attention toward the customers coming through the front door. I wanted to greet them with tantalizing smells and friendly smiles, to make them feel welcome.
Eating family style in California’s San Joaquin Valley when I was growing up meant sitting at a long, noisy table with people you might not know and eating food you hadn’t ordered.
California was still very much a frontier when Mrs. Abby Fisher, a former slave, published a cookbook in San Francisco in 1881. Even into the twentieth century the state maintained a raw-boned feel, with its ranches and Basque boarding houses, so gracefully described in these pages by Frank Bergon.
Boiled Peanuts; Imagining the American Institute of Wine and Food; The Erotics of Abstinence in American Christianity; Reading the Confidential Chat; Food, Commerce, and the Moral Order at the Park Slope Food Coop; Boston Cream Pie; What Mrs. Fisher Knows About Old Southern Cooking; The Cook: An Early American Culinary Magazine; and more…