The taste test. Inconclusive verdict. More testing needed.
Surely nothing could be easier than making toast. In these modern times, all you have to do is drop sliced bread into the toaster slots, push the lever down, and toast will pop right up when it’s done.
It was much trickier in my childhood. Our toasters were primitive appliances, with fold-down doors on either side. They demanded vigilance and patience, with disastrous consequences if we wandered away. These were the days before fire alarms, so burnt toast could be very burnt before the smell roused our attention.
My family also had a camping toaster, a simple wire mesh contraption held over a flame. I remember the toast it made was particularly delicious—very crisp on the outside and somehow fluffier and moister inside.
Either way, there was nothing difficult or complex about toast. Or so it seemed.
December 16, 2015 in Family Food, Memoir and Food, Taste
Tagged artisan, butter, eat, Elizabeth David, emotion, Giulietta Carreli, John Gravois, Michael Procopio, Muriel Barbery, Nigel Slater, sensation, taste, texture, toast
Truffle butter under the breast skin, grated truffle added during cooking.
One wintery evening in Canberra, I tried a beer brewed with truffles and spices. It tasted like a gorgeous big slice of Christmas cake but, amid the other flavours, I couldn’t find the truffles.
But, up to then, I had never tasted the mysterious fungus. Of course, I had been reading about it for years. But no description was able to convey to me what truffles smelled like, or what they tasted like. Ultimately, language—no matter how subtle and dexterous—cannot capture an experience accurately enough to allow someone else to live it.
So, during winter 2013, I went on-line and ordered a truffle. Yes, it was expensive, but when compared to a truffle dinner at a restaurant, it was affordable.