Alinea: The cookbook
Get ready to rearrange your life in the name of DIY otherworldly food.
Lara Kastner |
"Tomato" from the Alinea cookbook
The Alinea cookbook is not to be taken lightly. It weighs six pounds, is 396 pages long, and contains nearly as many indications about why its reader is unlikely to succeed in replicating the ultramodern samplings of molecular gastronomist Grant Achatz, the book's author and chef at Alinea. Some of these caveats are explicit: The book warns, for example, that the recipes are measured in grams, and that being even the slightest bit off will screw up the whole recipe. (This is why it thoughtfully neglects to include the home-cook-friendly conversions to cups and teaspoons.)
The real warning signs, though, start to appear on the recipe pages. Everything looks simple until the steps "freeze for three months" or "suspend each bacon strip from a stainless-steel bowl." This is no surprise, perhaps, for those who have dined at the fancy and expensive Alinea; elegant presentation and deliciousness aside, nothing really arrives at the table looking like itself. Achatz, though, insists—at least he did at the launch party for his book—that the steps are actually quite simple. It's just that there are a lot of them. Well, that, and they require the right equipment. The A.V. Club takes a look at what it means to stock your kitchen like an eccentric pro.
Tools
Two equipment pages early in the book highlight the proper tools for budding home cooks/scientists. On the left is the you-can-handle-this section, and on the right is the yeah-right/wait-what? section. The former page highlights things like X-Acto knives and tweezers—maybe not in stock on the shelves of Jewel, but nonetheless not difficult to obtain or understand. But then—on the you-can-handle-this page—there are items like Siphon and NO2/CO2 cartridges. That's where things get intimidating. These products are normally used in soda production but Achatz uses them to "produce foams, inject liquids, and even inflate cheese." Inflate cheese? There's the motivation. (Sur La Table sells 10 cartridges for $10.95, but Siphon will set you back $60.)
On the yeah-right side appears the prohibitively expensive but fun-sounding stuff, like the Volcano Vaporizer—a device invented by engineering potheads looking for a smokeless method of inhaling weed. Achatz saw the beauty in this, turning it into the "perfect solution for extracting the aroma of herbs and spices without adding a burnt or smoky smell." For those who want it badly enough, it'll cost $475-$600. (But a clerk at local head shop Secrets told Decider he could give us a sweet deal if we paid in cash.)
Ingredients
The special ingredients list will also scare away the faint of experimental heart, but those looking to do any molecular gastronomy have to expect that some science will be involved. Whole Foods carries most of the items, and Achatz provides a handy dictionary at the beginning to aid the search. Agar agar (pronounced "agger agger," $6.69/oz.) puts the rigidity in gels; soy lecithin ($9-18) lends lasting power to airs, foam, and froth; and glycerin adds sweetness and is also an "edible lubricant for molds." Yum? Whole Foods couldn't help out with the transglutaminase ("meat glue"), however. It makes protein stick together. No luck on the sodium citrate, either, which is an "acid buffer," whatever that means. But it probably makes food taste delicious.
Update: Check out The A.V. Club's first and failed attempt at a recipe for smoked paprika taffy.
