Thoughts on a Measurefree Life–and Ian McEwan’s Hearty School
1 November 2009 by Jean JohnsonHere’s how Booker Award winner Ian McEwan describes not measuring in his novel, Saturday. The passage comes through Henry Perowne, neurosurgeon and husband of Rosalind:
“What he likes about cooking is its relative imprecision and lack of discipline–a release from the demands of the [operating] theatre. In the kitchen, the consequences of failure are mild: disappointment, a wisp of disgrace, rarely voiced. No one actually dies.
He strips and chops eight fat cloves of garlic and adds them to the onions. From recipes he draws only the broadest principles. The cookery writers he admires speak of handfuls and a sprinkling, of chucking in this or that. They list alternative ingredients and encourage experimentation.
Henry accepts that he’ll never make a decent cook, that he belongs to what Rosalind calls the hearty school. Into his palm he empties several dried red chillies from a pot and crushes them between his hands and lets the flakes fall into the onions and garlic….Onto the softened onions and garlic–pinches of saffron, some bay leaves, orange-peel gratings, oregano, five anchovy fillets, two tins of peeled tomatoes.”
Thanks much Mr. McEwan. Would love to try some of Henry’s charmed bouillabaisse.
My stuff has been pretty charmed lately too. “This is the best sample I’ve ever had here,” said one enthusiastic taster recently. I, of course, modestly beamed. She was talking about Thai Slaw. Clearly in Rosalind’s hearty school.
After all, what’s to measure when you’re tossing fresh vegetables together, dressing them with garlic, ginger, lime, salt, chile, and sugar, and topping the works off with peanuts and coconut?
Please also join me on Facebook, watch my YouTube videos, and follow me on Twitter.
< Go back