Three variations on the theme of eating paper today:
“When the Sous-Chef Is an Inkjet”
Mommy sent me this NYT article about a chef with some really bizarrely imaginative ideas. Homaro Cantu, a sushi chef in Chicago, is melding technology and cooking to create dishes like his “sushi”: a careful assemblage of images printed with organic, food-based inks on edible paper. His ideas are really interesting and original–he’s currently trying to use liquid nitrogen, helium, and superconductors to try and make food levitate–but part of me thinks he must not truly love food if he’s this bored with the texture and tangibility of regular sushi. Sure, I’d like to try printed sushi, but for a meal? Especially a $240-a-head meal?
Eating regular paper won’t kill you, but it’s not good for you either–the human stomach lacks the enzymes necessary to break down and digest cellulose. Termites have those enzymes. So, my high school bio teacher used to tell us, do mushrooms. He used to suggest a salad of mushrooms and paper. I’ve never tried it, but I imagine it could be quite attractive: a shredded, crumpled bed of paper topped with wild mushrooms?
This is one of my favorite poems, “Eating Poetry” by Mark Strand (b.1934).
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.
The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.
Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.
She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.
Enjoy your day.
[This post was imported on 4/10/14 from my old blog at satsumabug.livejournal.com.]