A NEW BOOK IS BORN: ON RESTAURANT MENUS

I promised I would post when I finished my manuscript on restaurant menus. I am a woman of my word. It is complete, at least until an editor gets hold of it....

The book in brief: A thoroughly researched, socially observant, and entertaining firsthand account of how restaurant menus design consumer choice and the experience of a meal.

The work is based on my documentation of 77 encounters with menus at 70 restaurants throughout the greater Los Angeles area, which span all restaurant genres and menu formats. But my insights about menus are not just the product of personal experience. They are enhanced by investigations in a wide range of disciplines, from experience design to behavioral economics. Decoding menus demands a diverse set of tools! 

This book represents the next adventure in a series in which I seek understanding of the social significance and rhetorical wiles of restaurant aesthetics. It started with Smart Casual: The Transformation of Gourmet Restaurant Style in America (University of Chicago, 2013). Check out the description at http://www.alisonpearlman.com

Stay tuned to this blog for updates on the menus book. Other posts about the book may be on Twitter @theeyeindining, Instagram @alisonpearlman, or Facebook under my name.

Cheers, and best wishes for 2017!

Alison Pearlman

PARDON ME WHILE I STUDY THE MENU

Salt's Cure, Los Angeles. Chalkboard menu of April 12, 2014. Photo J. Matthews.

Those of you who have been with this blog since I started it in 2009 know that, from time to time, I've commented on the design of restaurant menus. It was a post entitled "Menu Minimalism" (1-10-09), in fact--a cultural interpretation of the syntactical habit so many gourmet menus then had (and still have) of describing dishes by lists of principal ingredients with only commas between them--that launched The Eye in Dining. Since then, I've penned a couple of commentaries on menus. I didn't plan it this way, but they both deal with questions of size ("Big Menu, Small Menu," posted 6-25-09, and the more recent "Sizing Up the Menu Size" of 7-20-12). 

Lately, things have gotten more serious between me and menus. The more I study restaurants, aesthetically and operationally, the more I see the key role they play. Menus are, after all, much more than lists. They are among the most powerful mediators of restaurant experience. I am now hard at work writing a book about their designs and functions.

My apologies in advance to readers of this blog as I devote the considerable time needed to produce this book. On The Eye in Dining, I hope to share, here and there, related musings and status reports as the project matures. These will take time. Pardon me while I study the menu….

ABOUT FEAST

Exhibition antechamber to the Cut Your Teeth installation by Wolvesmouth + Matthew Bone @ SMMoACarolyn  

In "Feasts and Philosophers," her essay for the exhibition catalog Feast: Radical Hospitality in Contemporary Art (Chicago: David and Alfred Smart Museum, 2013), Carolyn Korsmeyer makes a key distinction between hospitality at home and hospitality presented as art: "Offering up a cup of coffee to a guest is a hospitable act; offering a bite of food as part of an exhibit is a vivid comment upon hospitality....As such, it demands reflection and interpretation--of the gesture and its intent, of the privacy of the sensation and the public nature of the act." In the museum, therefore, objects and actions not only are. They exemplify. 

How is a dinner party in a museum substantially different from a dinner party in a home? Consider the case of Craig Thornton--a.k.a. Wolvesmouth, the underground-dinner-party-chef-turned-cult-hero of the vanguard food world whose richly creative and visually stunning multi-course dinners, served at an undisclosed loft in downtown Los Angeles, have brought Thornton sold-out traveling gigs, a profile in The New Yorker, and made his dinners among the hardest to book. The Santa Monica Museum of Art invited Thornton and artist Matthew Bone for a residency over two weeks in October. Thornton and Bone collaborated on Cut Your Teeth, an installation where they served a series of the sort of multi-course dinners for which Thornton has become known. 

Communal dining table with chandelier made from 7500 coyote teeth.
Diners exploring the installation before taking their seats.

What does Thornton gain by performing his loft dinners in a museum? The cultural prestige associated with art museums is always a temptation. But is there an advantage artistically? 

I haven't been to a dinner at the loft, but I've heard from those who have and, as a member of the Wolvesmouth mailing list, I'm familiar with the basic terms and conditions. In important respects, the dinner party at the museum was similar. The guests were strangers, paying customers, and welcome to bring their own drinks and share them. The meal convened around a communal table. Thornton served a set multi-course tasting menu. 

The diners take their seats, across from a dramatic diorama installation featuring various taxidermic specimens.

Hearing Thornton chat about his residency at intervals throughout the evening, I gathered that the differences he intended between the loft and the museum dinners are largely aesthetic.  

A fine example of taxidermy among various in the life-size diorama installation by Wolvesmouth + Matthew Bone.

I could see them for myself: Cut Your Teeth was an elaborate multi-sensory event. Thornton and Bone, who was present and helping with the dinner service, built an enchanting, and at points humorous, installation. There was a marvelous array of North American taxidermy in a lush, life-size woodsy diorama bathed in the violet light of a concert stage. Predator or prey? Some animals snarled at us, on the attack. Others were poised in flight from us. The animalia trailed on, over the long table setting, where twenty-six diners sat beneath a chandelier made of 7500 dangling coyote teeth; and overhead, in a wave of taxidermied black birds. At the gallery's back wall, a massive video projection of a wolf devouring a carcass in the snowy woods played continuously as we dined in contrastingly refined style.

Venison--pine gelee, blackberry meringue, cauliflower puree, hen of the woods, soil, blackberry beet, purple cabbage.
The sort of painterly presentation for which Wolvesmouth is well known.
We were instructed to eat this first course with our hands. 

My dining companions and I saw the humor in the "wild" way we were supposed to enjoy the first course (pictured above). "Eat with your hands!" The composition of the plate was similarly ironic in this context. As "wild" as a painting by Jackson Pollock. As "wild" as a reference to a Jackson Pollock painting in an art museum. 

Wolvesmouth + Bone in the kitchen prep area between courses.
On the back wall, a continuous video projection of a wolf feasting on a carcass.

Thornton and Bone also curated the event's narrative dimension. The nine-course feast gave the experience the skeletal structure of a conventional tasting menu, but there was much more. Diners were invited to also wander, take photos, talk to the chefs, explore the installation on our own between courses. A smart idea: let people weave their own tales, don't hold them "captive." Let them pace. Stake out their environment. Near the woods, I had an eye-opening conversation about the art and subculture of taxidermy with Bone. Apparently, it's customary to separate the squirrel's front and back sides. I enjoyed my talks with the diner to my left. We went down a rabbit hole pondering how many components are too many on a plate. I never came to a conclusion.

I overheard Thornton saying that this, to experience the dinner just this way, was what they were aiming for. He spoke of creating the conditions for a memorable narrative, one that would engage all senses and yield stories from our interactions with the setting and each other. 

A detail of the kitchen set-up at the back of the gallery.

Speaking of the temporal dimension: a reminder (above) of the organizational skill required to pull off a nine-course feast with the impeccable timing we experienced. Pacing is everything when telling a story.

Course 5 of 9, a knockout beauty:
Pork Belly--squid ink aioli, squid ink sabayon, blue lake, parsley, potato, almond
The taste of unctuous pork belly with crunchy candied almond was as memorable as the visual presentation.

Technically, an iteration of the same event could have taken place somewhere else, not in an art museum. But where else is it the norm for every detail of the environment and the performance to be taken as intentional communication? Where else will the duality of nature and culture be so readily converted into a commentary on that duality? Where else will a feast so easily become about the feast?

DINING AFTER 'SMART CASUAL' PART IV: If You Can't Stand the Heat (or the Meat), Don't Sit Near This Kitchen

 

Counter-side view of open kitchen with wood-burning grill @ Chi SPACCA. April 2013. Photo by author.

To pair with this month’s release of my book, SMART CASUAL: THE TRANSFORMATION OF GOURMET RESTAURANT STYLE IN AMERICA (University of Chicago Press), I reflect in a series of blog posts on “dining after SMART CASUAL.”  Recent encounters with new and notable restaurants in my home city of Los Angeles and media on food fads have got me thinking about how the trends I discuss in SMART CASUAL are faring….

 

"Santa Barbara Spot Prawns" sizzling on the flat-top grill in front of my place setting at the counter. Photo by author.

If Chi SPACCA had opened before I had finished writing Smart Casual--instead, it started taking reservations this February--it might have made a great poster child. It's an intensified version of nearly every trend in gourmet restaurant style I discuss. Open kitchen: check! Kitchen-side dining counter: check! Gourmet plays on traditional dishes that highlight the chef's creativity: vis-a-vis the "rustic Italian" genre, naturally! Nose-to-tail, locavore, sustainable, humanely raised, and house-made-product cuisine: yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! And does it also feed the gourmet duality of ethical virtuosity and self-indulgence? No question.

For this latest restaurant addition to the corner of Highland and Melrose--filling up, Monopoly style, with the properties of Nancy Silverton, Mario Batali, and Joe Bastianich under the "Mozza" imprint--chef machers Nancy Silverton and Matt Molina got behind executive chef Chad Colby's panegyric to the finest in flesh and hearth. To my fiendish delight, they devised a very visceral way to deliver it.

"Tomahawk Pork Chop"--all 42 ounces--on the wood-burning grill, with arm included for scale. Photo by author.

Without question, Chi SPACCA is the blu-ray of open-kitchen dining. Up close and lurid. It's a tiny restaurant. There is a smattering of tables in the space but the real focus is a dining counter where six people can look directly--I mean, smoke-inhalation directly--over a wood-burning grill and a flat-top grill next to it and the cave of a wood-burning oven behind those. From time to time, the middle cook of three behind the counter takes logs of almond wood stacked under the oven and feeds the beast of a grill. Apparently, almond is mild enough to not interfere with foods' flavors. On a cooler side of the counter, another chef composes salads and paper-lined planks of house-made charcuterie. The source of the salumi and terrines, of which the restaurant is justifiably proud, is also, of course, on display: behind a glass-walled refrigerator next to the open oven. 

Single serving of the "Affettati Misti." Photo by author.

The scene of meat meets fire is enhanced by seductive bouts of seasoning and dressing cuts of meat and seafood in large platters or deep pans. When I say "meat," imagine the shapes and sizes of various United States. Look at the picture I posted of the "Tomahawk Pork Chop." I can tell you it's forty-two ounces, but you might not fully grasp the import of that until you compare it to the arm of the towering chef. I included it in my photo for scale.

I've eaten at many a kitchen-side dining counter. By far the majority puts the cooler action of plating dishes right in front of counter-sitting customers. Chi SPACCA has counter diners almost as close to the grills as the chefs, within catching distance of sparks from the fire flying up into the exhaust hood. The chefs and we practically shared the hood as if it were a large umbrella. 

At first, sitting at the counter feels surprisingly HOT. But one gets used to it and settles in as at a campfire. My spellbound experience of the meal in this position was pure hominid: drawn to flame. I'm not surprised that the original setup in this space was for cooking classes, where students could directly observe cooking over heat. Now, in restaurant form, the arrangement is engaging in a similar way. One can watch the cooks season and dress and cook the various cuts of meat and seafood and actually learn something. (Not everything one learns is pleasing, however. For example, I already know that the amount of cream that goes into restaurant mashed potatoes is heart-stopping. But facing the truth stirring in the pan in front of me was still a shock.)

"Beef & Bone Marrow Pie (serves two)" with velvety mashed potatoes. Photo by author.

The cuisine at Chi SPACCA represents the smart-casual trend of chefs appropriating traditional, regional cuisines, and then tweaking them. In this theater, the basic script is rustic Italian, but Colby departs freely from it. In a recent review in the Los Angeles Times (www.latimes.com, 4-5-13), Jonathan Gold pointed out that the beef and bone marrow pie, which I ordered and pictured here, is reminiscent of Australian meat pies (not Italian), yet Colby's version is not exactly like the Australian classic, either. Chi SPACCA varies from tradition in many ways besides, including its creative offerings of salads. 

And then there is the portion sizes. Everything from the custom cuts, as in the "Tomahawk" chop, to the columnar bone rising from the center of the beef and bone marrow pie take the rustic Italian aesthetic and remake it as Flinstonian spectacle. This tendency toward the oversize cut reminds me of the gourmet duality I write about in Smart Casual. On the one hand, we are made to feel virtuous about the fact that the meat is humanely raised, from an organic farm, being thoroughly used (all parts of the animal) throughout the menu, and raised not too far away; on the other, we are happy to consume like Roman emperors.

On the menu of "Contorni" (sides): "Warm Squash Blossoms Ripiene--ricotta & tomato vinaigrette." Photo by author.

We can count on places like Chi SPACCA to give us the most gorgeous expressions of our ethical striving as well as our appetites.

I would be remiss in talking about Chi SPACCA's achievement in stoking these values if I didn't recognize the key role played by contrasting elements in its meat theater. Aesthetic success often relies on a play of contrasts. This is no less true of cuisine than the other arts. In Chi SPACCA's case, the meat would be meaningless without the gorgeous cornucopia of plant matter. Salads and vegetable sides are so stunning and lovingly prepared. Above is a picture of the side dish of warm squash blossoms that I ordered that I would like to remember to look at whenever I'm feeling down.

The two images below show my "Insalata Misticanza." Clearly, this mountain of salad is designed to stand up to the Jurassic chops. Mine was so wondrous on every layer that I had to include two photos of it: the first, of the salad as presented; the second, revealing the interior in a spectrum of colors, textures, and shapes. Let's face it: no pastoral dream is complete without flora and fauna.

"Insalata Misticanza--English Peas, Beets, Carrots, Asparagus & Spring Onions." Photo by author.

The "Insalata Misticanza" half-eaten, showing the many layers of wondrous color, texture, shape. Vibrant and delicious. Photo by author.

DINING AFTER 'SMART CASUAL' PART III: Small Plates, Big Clatter

 

"LOBSTER ROLL green curry, Thai basil" @ Hinoki & the Bird. March 2013. Photo by author.

To pair with this month’s release of my book, SMART CASUAL: THE TRANSFORMATION OF GOURMET RESTAURANT STYLE IN AMERICA (University of Chicago Press), I reflect in a series of blog posts on “dining after Smart Casual.”  Recent encounters with new and notable restaurants in my home city of Los Angeles and media on food fads have got me thinking about how the trends I discuss in SMART CASUAL are faring….

In “The Backlash Against Entrées Rages On” (Eater.com, 3-26-13), Hillary Dixler reports on the further erasure of main courses from trendsetting-restaurant menus and the latest flare-up in the controversy over it.

Those who’ve insisted on the superiority of the tapas-style all-small-plates format include chef Alex Stupak, Bloomberg critic Ryan Sutton and Esquire’s Tom Judot. Other chefs are mentioned as defenders of this position in practice, even if not on Twitter and the like. In the middle of the debate, there are those, such as Los Angeles Times critic Jonathan Gold and Washington Post writer Tom Sietsema. They haven’t been particularly sanguine on the matter, but have still declared the death of the entrée a near fait accompli. Still standing up and fighting for the entrée, against the tide, we find current New York Times critic Pete Wells and former New York Times critic Frank Bruni.

My serving of "KALE Crispy and Raw, Curried Almonds, Pecorino, Red Wine Vinaigrette" @ Hinoki & the Bird. Photo by author.

On the debate that Dixler deflty describes, I have my own view: Notice that no chefs are on the side of the entrée and that the reasoning used by chefs is unique to them. They like small plates because they spur their own creativity and prevent them from getting bored. Witness a tweet Dixler quotes from chef Stupak in response to a question about whether or not his restaurant Empellon is serving entrees: “[N]o longer. I can’t stand them so I’m never cooking them again.” In another tweet quoted by Dixler, the chef stated that small plates “are more fun to work with then [sic] 6-8 ounces of clunky protein.” Apparently, chefs David Myers and Kuniko Yagi of the Los Angeles restaurant I recently visited, poetically named Hinoki & the Bird, agree. Their menu has no entrees but instead novel categories such as "Fun Bites" and "Inspiration."

Meanwhile, those who have strong feelings in the opposite direction, Wells and Bruni, make arguments that represent interests of diners that conflict with chefs’ desire for attention and creative development. They dare to suggest that they, as diners, would like to be satiated by a meal. They entertain the idea of being able, when dining, to relax. As Wells points out, small plates can create stress: “[J]ust as you realize how much you’re enjoying a dish [at a table for four], the person next to you has managed to stab the last forkful.” 

"Sambal Skate Wing" @ Hinoki & the Bird. Photo by author.

The extreme ends of this debate reveal a tug of wills between chefs and diners. Small plates, which arrive piecemeal in more informal situations and in a tight orchestrated succession in more ceremonious cases, constantly interrupt diners to pay attention to chefs. Entrées, in the old-school sense, buy the diner some time to ignore the chef, to put the chef in the background while the diner focuses on their company at the table or—god forbid—ponders matters unrelated to food.

This debate, the power of chefs it represents, is deeply relevant to the story I tell in Smart Casual. The rising economic and taste-making influence of star chefs has resulted in a wide variety of contemporary restaurant features from exhibition kitchens to the elaboration of tasting menus.

This latest kerfuffle over the death of the entrée shows that the power of chefs shows no sign of diminishing. It also reveals that, as with every imposition of will by one faction of a pluralistic society, there’s bound to be a counterpoint.