Video: Shape vs. substance: better than good food there is only fun food
2024 Author: Cody Thornton | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-16 12:26
Last summer I had dinner at the Madonnina del Pescatore, Moreno Cedroni's restaurant in Senigallia. Excellent dishes have been eaten, gossip exchanged, glasses of wine gulped down. A beautiful experience, of which food was a part.
Until dessert. Not without theatricality, my diner and I are brought to the table two blue latex gloves, which we wear. The prostate exam effect is just around the corner, for safety we don't look each other in the eye.
"Well, now it's your turn to wash the dishes," announces the waiter. Here comes a plexiglass plate on which a sponge rests: yellow and porous below, green and wrinkled above. We chuckle: we are now completely concentrated. When the "soap" arrives, we squeak in delight. Even the people sitting at the other tables cast glances in our direction: they would like to play too.
Obviously, the sponge is sponge cake, the custard soap, the ice cream foam. The dessert is delicious. But most of all: it's fun.
And this "above all" is one of those "above all" that dig ditches among enthusiasts: better the playful chef or the chef of substance?
I have taken sides for some time: the first independent experience in a starred restaurant was at 20, when I dragged my then boyfriend to Joia to celebrate our first anniversary.
Now: the Joia, by the always discussed Pietro Leemann, is not the place I would recommend for the baptism of haute cuisine: the place is not particularly scenic and the cuisine is, as it were, difficult.
In short, it was not without perplexity that we dragged ourselves along the tasting menu, until the watershed moment: the arrival of the dish "Un Sasso rolls".
The very formal waiter approached our table with a plate at one end of which was a supplì, while a sauce was spread on the other side. With a ceremonious air, he lifted one side of the plate letting the supplì-avalanche overwhelm the cream, ending its run on the edge of the plate.
Silently the waiter. In silence we.
The boyfriend said: "You don't play with food." I thought, "We won't last."
Looking back, I think I lined up much earlier. Here: at lunches in the canteen in elementary school. The rule with respect to food, in that case, was: you can play with everything you will then eat, you cannot mess with what you intend to advance. At the time I did not eat cheese, while my friend Filippo did, and therefore he had long minutes of delight in which he could devote himself to carving his thin slice with a plastic knife, obtaining edible men. I was consumed with envy.
So where does my defense of playing with food come from, is it an unresolved childhood trauma?
After all, these were not easy years, Filippo got a red telephone with wheels tattooed on his arm because it was a toy that was systematically stolen from him by other children.
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