I find myself in a dilemma over tiny dots. And thin lines. And smears, bubbles, and dusts.
I've mentioned from time to time the importance of the essential, and the subtractive method of isolating the vital from the unnecessary in a dish. Yet I'm still guilty of committing the tiny dot of sauce, the part of the dish that most certainly adds more to the design and composition of the plate than to its overall flavor.
I certainly don't think such flourishes are altogether bad, I'm just beginning to question my reliance upon them more often. Back in my days at Tribute, we would boast of how many components we were putting on the plate- a drop here, a sprinkle there, a line of sauce that might start at the center of the plate, but ventures off the rim into space. Indeed the style I've been immersed in for nearly five years has left its minimalist mark, but that's still in a relative sense. I still tend toward heavy-handedness; looking at a dish with only three spartan components, I immediately start to second guess myself, like I'm forgetting something. Maybe it's a confidence issue. And perhaps given the nature of what we do- as opposed to cooking on the line- because virtually everything is already made, our most important job during service is to simply make it all look good.
Like I said, I'm an offender, so I'm surely not knocking anyone else with similar habits and aesthetics. There is something to be said for visual appeal in a dish, especially at a certain level of cooking. It's pretty much expected to some degree. And rusticity is expected and appreciated in its own context too, but I imagine cooking wouldn't be as much fun if that's all there was. I'm still not a fan of the truly non-functional or inedible garnish. Remember in the 80s and 90s, when the sign of a classy establishment were thick sprigs of rosemary protruding out of every other dish? I think the pastry equivalent were the sugar elements: the pulled loops and spirals and cages (though I did love making those; I remember attempting a few big cloche-like caramel domes after seeing Jacques Torres make one over a Kitchenaid bowl). The one thing that I'll be happy to never see again? The ubiquitous sprig of mint.
It ultimately comes down to refinement, an idea, which like everything else, might mean different things to different people. But it continues to evolve. And for better or worse, fashions and trends will continue to push us in this direction or that. In the end, I do believe that good food is good food, but if it looks amazing, the same dish just might taste that much better. As long as the element doesn't detract from the composition, every drop of reduction or smear of puree is valid. Maybe my quest is not ultimate minimalism, but rather a sense of delibrate intent, making the right choices, and making everything count. And if those artfully placed dots of sauce make the dish better, then it's all good. And if they don't, well, I guess that's ok too.
Uploading the image below, it struck me how it resembles an ellipse, signifying a continuing train of thought. Maybe that's what is most important, the simple act of thinking about it...
Thoughtful post, as always, Michael. I have expanded upon some of your thoughts in my blog: http://docsconz.typepad.com/docsconz_the_blog/2009/01/enhancing-the-pleasure-of-food-.html
BTW, I still like the sprig of mint on some traditional dessert platings, though only when it is spearmint :-)
Posted by: John Sconzo | January 10, 2009 at 03:07 PM
What a wonderful post... while I enjoy the minimalist presentations of so many restaurants, I also truly enjoy the maximist (is that a word) presentation of some places as well.
I've definitely not mastered the minimalist approach, as you may be able to see by my photos!
Posted by: I Made Dinner | January 10, 2009 at 05:03 PM
How about a sprig of mint as the dessert, with some powder on it, and a dot of "pudding"?
Good stuff. The last couple of posts have been very thought provoking.
Posted by: corybarrett | January 10, 2009 at 08:35 PM
This reminded me (don't ask why) of the movie from years back... "Eddie and the Cruisers." There was a part during rehearsal when Eddie starts talking about the pause, or the space in the song. How the void was more powerful than the sound in some instances.
I agree that it is very very difficult to restrain oneself. Portion size is another issue that I hope does not get to extremes during this time when customers are looking for more 'value'... which most restaurants would interpret as simply more food on the plate.
Posted by: chadzilla | January 11, 2009 at 11:41 AM
Hello Michael;I've enjoyed reading your thoughtful posts for awhile now.I like the visual elegance of the current style of smears,dots,dusts etc.,but my beef is that I rarely get enough of their flavor in a composed dish.I wind up pushing and poking things around to try and 'get it'.In my ideal world,a well balanced plate 'explains' itself more easily...a goal to work towards anyhow...
Posted by: Meredith Kurtzman | January 11, 2009 at 03:15 PM
Not necessarily the hugest fan of dots, but I love that first photo, and enjoyed reading your thoughts about plating.
Posted by: Y | January 13, 2009 at 09:26 AM
I agree with the idea of the "pause". The word that sums it up for me is restraint. Knowing when to say when.
Posted by: joel | January 13, 2009 at 10:31 PM
Great post.
I must admit that I do use lines and dots frequently. The reason for using them at first is certainly aesthetics, but as the dish progresses beyond the first plate up, it becomes a means to control flavor placement as well.
Eddie and the Cruisers, how many kids out there have no idea who John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band are? Way to show your age Chad.
Posted by: kevin sousa | January 14, 2009 at 07:27 AM
I've always been into lines... I've gotten yelled at over lines, the thoughts still haunt my memory. But I like lines...
Posted by: Chase | January 15, 2009 at 03:52 AM
Great post, typically looking at a dish. One of the things that has always stuck in my mind is that you eat with your eyes first, then smell, then taste. It makes total sense that when a dish is layed before you, that is it. Thats where it all starts but to find the balance between, visual appeal and flavor is what we strive for. You truly have set of sparks. Find the balance, dont overcomplicate, or under estimate the ingredients individuality.
Posted by: Todd Ruiz | January 17, 2009 at 12:24 AM
eddie lives!!!
Posted by: josh | January 18, 2009 at 10:28 PM
Ah . . .your post reminded me of eating at Le Cirque for the first and only time back in 1998. After the divine lobster risotto and a savory colcannon variant with lamb, my dessert (I seem to recall that it was the mousse) came with the caramel cloche veiling the treat inside! Definitely a culinary high point!
My point would be that while it might seem to be an unnecessary flourish, the cloche was the exclamation point on what was one of my very first fine dining experiences. Without that, my husband and I might not have gone on to venture to Trio, Le Grand Vefour, Tru, La Terrasse, Palme d'Or, the French Laundry, Alinea, or Moto. The grand gesture in dining should not be discounted.
Posted by: Ms B | January 23, 2009 at 07:11 PM
I hate the mint garnish. The restaurant where I stage is a two macaron in France and much to my dismay there is a sprig on every dessert. I have to pick identical sized tops of mint stalks and keep my mouth shut. Also, red currants, which never have anything to do with the dessert they're accompanying. We get grammatical too, commas of strawberry coulis with the nougatine and ellipses galore. Other than the fact that I'm awful with the pipette, I object (silently) because I crave function. The thin line of nappage won't add anything to the dish because there's hardly any of it. I fantasize that perhaps there is something that could have an effect in its place. I just wish the dots and squiggles could be something more than drawings.
[Part of me suspects that I'm really just rejecting some typical French aesthetic and that all of the clients are tickled by these things.]
Posted by: Tammie | February 01, 2009 at 10:54 AM
I just watched your Iron Chef performance and cannot for the life of me understand how the judges did not score you as the winner. Your dishes were brilliant and very original.
Posted by: Dayce Schrieber | February 08, 2009 at 12:04 AM
Dayce,
Yes, I have to relive that one each time Food Network decides to pull it out of the vault. Watching it now almost five years later, I still kind of hope to beat Mario 'this' time!
Posted by: Michael Laiskonis | February 08, 2009 at 12:37 AM
This post made me think of Hemingway and his quest to write one true sentence ... "every drop of reduction or smear of puree is valid". Good stuff.
I really enjoy your posts, and often, I recommend this blog to people with almost no culinary connection, and they are always well impressed. Thanks!
Posted by: Jesse | February 08, 2009 at 02:03 PM
Jesse,
Thanks for the kind words. It's funny how seemingly disparate two disciplines are until you try to practice them both. In both cooking and writing I've tried to slowly trim away the excess. Interesting that you mention Hemingway; my 10th grade English teacher used him as an example while trying to curb my verbose tendencies way back then!
Posted by: Michael Laiskonis | February 08, 2009 at 02:30 PM
Dots, lines, dusting... I agree, I think we find ourselves drifting among them and other fads we go through when the mood strikes us. Looking back at some old pictures I think to myself, god, what was I thinking? It was liked the balsamic fad, after a celebrity chef used some reduced balsamic syrup on a dish ten years ago, it seemed that every where you went and everything you ate had the cursed thick often burnt balsamic treacle on the plate serving no actual reason... Chefs have moved on but has the use of the added dots and stripes or are they now just there because we have become accustomed to using them without thinking, I have tried to adopt a more simplistic approach with a theory of if its on the plate in a specific place it should be there to be eaten with the corresponding parts of the dish to give a complete encompassing mouthful of all the elements (if that makes sense?) I loved the post and let's think simplicity is due for a come back!
Posted by: ubergrub | February 24, 2009 at 06:35 PM
Minimalism has always had a special appeal to me, I suppose because of the restraint and editing involved in trying to make the most impact with the fewest words/components/elements. When it comes to food, I love the play of flavor, texture, temperature, and portion size that comes with the refinement.
I've been thinking lately about interaction between plate elements, especially when it comes to seasoning. One of the most memorable dishes I've had was clams in broth at a mom-and-pop Japanese restaurant. When i first tasted the broth, I thought it was grossly oversalted, but I then noticed how it contrasted against the sweet, clean flavor of the clams. Then i realized that the broth wasn't too salty at all - it was as salty as the ocean. brilliant.
What if, instead of having a perfectly balanced fruit tart served with a perfectly balanced ice cream, we make the tart a little too acid and the ice cream richer or sweeter than usual? The components are "off", but the overall plate should be balanced, perhaps even more lively than the one with "properly" seasoned components.
As for dots, lines, and dusts, I think they are valid if the flavor is pungent enough to compensate for the small portion. A little "punch" to reawaken the palate. If that dot just tastes like oranges, then it fades into the background and becomes superfluous. On the other hand, if it has a strong neroli scent, it will stand out when that one bite is taken, and then linger on the palate to influence the flavor of remaining bites. But then, of course, you need the refinement to distinguish between refreshing and overpowering.
Posted by: Jeffje | February 26, 2009 at 07:27 PM