Stalking the Green Fairy : And Other Fantastic Adventures in Food and Drink

Rating:
Summary: MSS from the Culinary Right Wing, Excellent Read.
Review: This is the most recent work of culinary writing from James Villas, who was recently honored by 'Bon Appetit' as Food Writer of the Year for 2003, an honor Jim richly deserves if only for the variety of his writings which include columns on food topics of general interest (this book, for example), cookbooks on classic American culinary subjects ('Biscuit Bliss' and 'Crazy for Casseroles' for example), and memoirs ('Between Bites'). This is like having M.F.K. Fisher, Edna Lewis and Ruth Reichl all rolled up into one person.

Jim Villas represents old school American culinary writing. He is as direct an intellectual descendent of James Beard as you are likely to find today. He was a friend and confidant of Beard, Craig Claiborne, and Richard Olney. He does have ties to recent trends and writings, as he is a good friends with Paula Wolfert and Jeremiah Tower.

Unlike Beard, Villas does not limit his journalism to American cuisine, although his cookbooks are firmly rooted in southern American cooking, being a true native of North Carolina with a strong interest in all the traditional controversies over styles of barbecue, okra cookery, Brunswick stew, and iced tea. There is a fittingness between Villas' being a North Carolina reb (his word) and his conservatism regarding food.

The most appealing aspect of his conserving attitude about food is his strong regard for tradition. In this regard, his writings in this book are very similar to the essays of John Thorne in that both are intent on calling a chowder only those things which contain traditional chowder ingredients such as salt pork and are made in the traditional manner, such as by using either biscuit or potato to thicken. The two authors both devote an essay to chowder, although typically, Thorne's essay is more scholarship and Villas' essay is more opinion. Many excellent culinary journalist / educators today can benefit from this kind of conservatism which calls a salad nicoise only those preparations which have some basis in traditional Provencal practice. I am often annoyed when, for example, Alton Brown gives an excellent exposition on a subject only to follow it with a recipe of, for example, something he calls panzanella salad, which has small resemblance to anything prepared in Italy.

Some of Villas' most interesting targets for preservation of the established or recently neglected are iceberg lettuce, tuna fish canned in oil, and meat loaf. He recounts long battles over iceberg lettuce with Craig Claiborne and how some swells of modern cuisine are surprised on 'rediscovering' the virtues of this very common, very economical product. One of Villas' bete noirs is the current rave over fresh tuna and the fact that, in his opinion, few people know how to properly cook tuna. Villas positively gushes over the virtues of a good meatloaf and gives evidence that many modern haute cuisine luminaries secretly crave this very American dish. At the end of many chapters on specific dishes, Villas provides one or more of his favorite recipes. Some are provided on, for example, Brunswick stew, grits, fruitcake, meatloaf, and so on. One of Villas rants is very close to my heart as I, like he, are exceptionally fond of the traditional club sandwich made of toasted bread, iceberg lettuce, crisply fried bacon, sliced poached chicken, and either homemade or Hellmans (full fat) mayonnaise.

One of the great ironies of Villas personal tastes is that while he is a great believer in terroir and believes that one cannot get a truly great Bouillabaisse outside the range of fish caught off the coast of southern France, he is in love with some of America's most humble commercial products such as Hellmans mayonnaise and peanut butter in a jar. These passions are squared by his devotion to shopping economically at both supermarkets and Sam's Club. His story of this passion is doubly endearing in that he admits to a fair amount of spoilage in the great quantities of goods he purchases and stores over the long haul.

If it is not already clear, let me say that Villas has strong opinions and is not bashful about expressing them in his writing. Many, such as his stand on iceberg lettuce and meat loaf are liberating, in that one now has the sanction to appreciate them without guilt. Other opinions may be less sound. In spite of his close ties to the culinary revolutionary Jeremiah Tower, Villas seems to have a distaste for almost all things new on the American culinary scene. This is the second book in which he takes a swipe at Wolfgang Puck while embracing traditionalist Emeril Lagasse.

My culinary experience will never hope to match Villas' resume, but I do believe his opinions on cooking tuna, for example, take culinary conservatism just a little too far. I am four square in his corner on his disliking fusion cuisine (see terroir), but the Japanese way with food is just as valid as the French or Italian or North Carolinian.

Just so you know, the 'Green Fairy' of the title has absolutely nothing to do with Peter Pan or a J.R.R. Tolkein creation. It is a nickname for absinthe, a green, very highly alcoholic liqueur that is nominally illegal in the United States and was illegal until recently in most European countries. Villas tells the story of this wormwood-based potion and his experiences with it.

On an intellectual level, I think Villas' culinary writings are not as sound or as durable as the works of John Thorne and Paula Wolfert. I also think his little jabs some modern culinary luminaries are undeserved. Nonetheless, his writing is very, very entertaining. It is as much fun to rail at his opinions as it is to be tickled by Tony Bourdain's salty comments. I leave to you, dear reader, to find the anonymous little jab Villas takes at chef Bourdain's experiences and writing.

Rating:
Summary: MSS from the Culinary Right Wing, Excellent Read.
Review: This is the most recent work of culinary writing from James Villas, who was recently honored by `Bon Appetit' as Food Writer of the Year for 2003, an honor Jim richly deserves if only for the variety of his writings which include columns on food topics of general interest (this book, for example), cookbooks on classic American culinary subjects (`Biscuit Bliss' and `Crazy for Casseroles' for example), and memoirs (`Between Bites'). This is like having M.F.K. Fisher, Edna Lewis and Ruth Reichl all rolled up into one person.

Jim Villas represents old school American culinary writing. He is as direct an intellectual descendent of James Beard as you are likely to find today. He was a friend and confidant of Beard, Craig Claiborne, and Richard Olney. He does have ties to recent trends and writings, as he is a good friends with Paula Wolfert and Jeremiah Tower.

Unlike Beard, Villas does not limit his journalism to American cuisine, although his cookbooks are firmly rooted in southern American cooking, being a true native of North Carolina with a strong interest in all the traditional controversies over styles of barbecue, okra cookery, Brunswick stew, and iced tea. There is a fittingness between Villas' being a North Carolina reb (his word) and his conservatism regarding food.

The most appealing aspect of his conserving attitude about food is his strong regard for tradition. In this regard, his writings in this book are very similar to the essays of John Thorne in that both are intent on calling a chowder only those things which contain traditional chowder ingredients such as salt pork and are made in the traditional manner, such as by using either biscuit or potato to thicken. The two authors both devote an essay to chowder, although typically, Thorne's essay is more scholarship and Villas' essay is more opinion. Many excellent culinary journalist / educators today can benefit from this kind of conservatism which calls a salad nicoise only those preparations which have some basis in traditional Provencal practice. I am often annoyed when, for example, Alton Brown gives an excellent exposition on a subject only to follow it with a recipe of, for example, something he calls panzanella salad, which has small resemblance to anything prepared in Italy.

Some of Villas' most interesting targets for preservation of the established or recently neglected are iceberg lettuce, tuna fish canned in oil, and meat loaf. He recounts long battles over iceberg lettuce with Craig Claiborne and how some swells of modern cuisine are surprised on `rediscovering' the virtues of this very common, very economical product. One of Villas' bete noirs is the current rave over fresh tuna and the fact that, in his opinion, few people know how to properly cook tuna. Villas positively gushes over the virtues of a good meatloaf and gives evidence that many modern haute cuisine luminaries secretly crave this very American dish. At the end of many chapters on specific dishes, Villas provides one or more of his favorite recipes. Some are provided on, for example, Brunswick stew, grits, fruitcake, meatloaf, and so on. One of Villas rants is very close to my heart as I, like he, are exceptionally fond of the traditional club sandwich made of toasted bread, iceberg lettuce, crisply fried bacon, sliced poached chicken, and either homemade or Hellmans (full fat) mayonnaise.

One of the great ironies of Villas personal tastes is that while he is a great believer in terroir and believes that one cannot get a truly great Bouillabaisse outside the range of fish caught off the coast of southern France, he is in love with some of America's most humble commercial products such as Hellmans mayonnaise and peanut butter in a jar. These passions are squared by his devotion to shopping economically at both supermarkets and Sam's Club. His story of this passion is doubly endearing in that he admits to a fair amount of spoilage in the great quantities of goods he purchases and stores over the long haul.

If it is not already clear, let me say that Villas has strong opinions and is not bashful about expressing them in his writing. Many, such as his stand on iceberg lettuce and meat loaf are liberating, in that one now has the sanction to appreciate them without guilt. Other opinions may be less sound. In spite of his close ties to the culinary revolutionary Jeremiah Tower, Villas seems to have a distaste for almost all things new on the American culinary scene. This is the second book in which he takes a swipe at Wolfgang Puck while embracing traditionalist Emeril Lagasse.

My culinary experience will never hope to match Villas' resume, but I do believe his opinions on cooking tuna, for example, take culinary conservatism just a little too far. I am four square in his corner on his disliking fusion cuisine (see terroir), but the Japanese way with food is just as valid as the French or Italian or North Carolinian.

Just so you know, the `Green Fairy' of the title has absolutely nothing to do with Peter Pan or a J.R.R. Tolkein creation. It is a nickname for absinthe, a green, very highly alcoholic liqueur that is nominally illegal in the United States and was illegal until recently in most European countries. Villas tells the story of this wormwood-based potion and his experiences with it.

On an intellectual level, I think Villas' culinary writings are not as sound or as durable as the works of John Thorne and Paula Wolfert. I also think his little jabs some modern culinary luminaries are undeserved. Nonetheless, his writing is very, very entertaining. It is as much fun to rail at his opinions as it is to be tickled by Tony Bourdain's salty comments. I leave to you, dear reader, to find the anonymous little jab Villas takes at chef Bourdain's experiences and writing.