Last year I subscribed to The Art of Eating, which might be best described as a magazine for those obsessed with food: its origins, its preparation, its consumption. This publication doesn't contain visual food porn; it contains verbal food porn, along the lines of M.F.K. Fisher.

This article from the Winter 2002 issue is typical (although quite short at only three pages): it describes the author's quest to find the perfect Parisian croissant.

Some croissants are too soft, too crunchy, too dry, too salty, too sweet, too pale, or, sometimes, gummy. The outermost leaves, as thin as the thinnest paper, are shattering arcs. But there's more of the soft, faintly elastic insides, which become bubbled as the layers disappear completely. Rich croissant flavor comes in part from just the right amount of yeast rise. A croissant should be brown, buttery, yet not greasy.

I'm pleased to report the author's search was successful.

This month's issue features a review of David Thompson's mammoth (673 pages!) book, Thai Food. The review does a fine job of selling the book (it's been added to my Amazon wish list, of course), and it does so with lively writing. Some excerpts:

Thai Food was conceived as a small volume on Thai snacks that wound up as a tome that "aims to give an understanding of all Thai food".

No other Thai cookbook in English is based on so much familiarity with the early Thai sources...A cynic might quip that the only concession David Thompson makes to the Western reader is that he writes in English.

"Thai cooking is at odds with the modern world, where speed and simplicity are paramount. Thai is not an instant cuisine, prepared with the flick of a knife and finished with a toss of the pan. It needs the cook's attention, it expects time and effort to be spent and it requires honed skills, but it rewards with sensational tastes."

"A modern Thai kitchen," says Thompson, "is virtually indistinguishable from a Western kitchen," with one important exception -- the ubiquity of a variety of mortars and pestels. If this book were to have a subtitle, it would be First, Make the Paste. Of course before doing that you would have made your own stock, squeezed fresh coconut cream, rendered your pork fat, perhaps even dried your own fish and prawns, fermented some rice and soybeans, and pickled a dozen small limes. "For those who must pursue authenticity to its extreme," there's a recipe for pla raa, fermented fish that is sealed in an earthenware pot and left for at least eight months.

Ah yes. A simple Thai dish never is. There's so much chopping and grinding and grating in Thai cooking, that it generally takes twice as long to prepare a meal than orginally planned.

It seems the harder I work at stamping out typos in this weblog, the more egregious they become.

I spent ninety minutes scanning photographs tonight so that I could post examples of the stuff I've been working on. The photos are all cropped and ready to go, waiting to jump from my iBook's hard drive to my web site, but I can't connect via ftp. I think that when Omnis was hacked they changed the ftp password for the site, but they didn't bother to tell me. Their customer service has been terrible lately. I'll give them a call tomorrow.

(Great. Now I can't post again. I'll bet the commenting system is broken, too. The key to maintaining satisfied web-hosting customers is to maintain web-hosting service without breaking things. I'm not satisfied right now. Nope. Not at all.)

On this day at foldedspace.org

2005 — Metaphorical Vandalism   Do you ever have experiences that might serve as metaphors for your entire life? I do.

2004 — Making History Personal   High school history classes -- and many college history classes -- are taught on a macro level. Students examine the big picture, but they're never really shown the details.

2002 — Rating Movies   Every year Kris and I try to catch the Oscar nominees for Best Picture. This is our ninth year of doing so. Rarely does our favorite movie win Best Picture; fortunately, our least favorite has never won.