The Euston Tap

27 Jan

I have to mention my new place of work, because it’s such an awesome place I’d probably blog about it even if I weren’t working there. It’s called the Euston Tap, and it is the London pub I’ve long been waiting for. Modeled on an American craft beer bar, it features a solid copper wall decked out with 27 different taps, with nineteen kegged beers on the upper deck and eight cask ales below. The selection rotates constantly, offering a wide, international selection of ales and lagers, with regular appearances by world-class breweries such as Thornbridge, Dark Star, BrewDog, Stone, Anchor, Great Divide, Matuska, Bernard, Marble, Westmalle, Odell, Sierra Nevada, Weihenstephaner, and Purity. Plus, we have eight fridges stocked with over 200 bottled beers, focused on American regional breweries, Bavarian lagers, and Danish oddities.

As the beer menu changes daily, follow us on Twitter and like us on Facebook for updates. Hope to see you there sometime!

The Euston Tap
190 Euston Road
West Lodge
London NW1 2EF
020 3137 8837

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The War on MSG

17 Jan

“No MSG.”

This self-congratulatory proclamation adorns countless food packages around the Anglosphere. We’ve all seen it, on bags of potato chips or Chinese takeout menus, on instant noodles or those “just add meat and sour cream” Mexican meal kits. Oh thank heavens, we think when we spot it. This food is safe. This food is natural. This food is good.

MSG must be one of the most maligned chemical compounds in existence. Imagine a frozen pizza label, with an image of gooey cheese and glistening red pepperoni, enthusiastically marked “Contains MSG!” In terms of point-of-purchase advertising, it may as well say “Contains POISON!” Nobody would buy it, and the company would be laughed out of business.

But why? Why does everybody always gotta hate on the glutamate? The dubious badge of MSG-free honor has become so common and platitudinous – much like “low fat” or “organic” – that nobody seems to question what exactly is so wrong with MSG in the first place. It’s as though people assume that because a food producer would make a point to declare their product void of MSG, then it must be bad for you. Clearly this is silly; if potato chip packets suddenly started announcing that they were “low in vitamin C!” we would be skeptical of the reasoning behind such a claim. But we are so accustomed to the idea that MSG is unhealthy that we accept it unthinkingly.

Perhaps it is time for us all to reconsider MSG. There is so much hearsay surrounding it that it may be best to start with some clear, simple, possibly mind-blowing facts:

  1. MSG is a naturally occurring compound present in many traditional foods; it is not an artificial flavoring nor a modern invention.
  2. MSG has never been conclusively demonstrated to cause health problems in clinical studies; reports on its potentially negative effects are largely conjectural or anecdotal.
  3. MSG can be added indirectly to food via products containing free glutamic acid, frequently rendering the “no MSG” label inaccurate, misleading, and/or pointless.
  4. MSG is a very pure form of umami, and it can help make food taste fantastic.

First, a bit of chemistry. MSG is the initialism for monosodium glutamate, a common salt of glutamic acid, which is one of twenty amino acids that combine to form proteins in living organisms (other well-known proteinogenic amino acids are tryptophan and lysine). Glutamic acid is a non-essential amino acid, meaning that the body synthesizes it naturally from other proteins and uses it for things like metabolism and neurotransmission. Salts of glutamic acid such as MSG or monopotassium glutamate are used (directly or indirectly, via other foods that are naturally high in these salts) to add umami, or savoriness, to foods. Umami is a Japanese word that literally means “delicious flavor,” and it is now commonly recognized as the fifth basic taste, following bitter, salty, sweet, and sour. Umami’s position as the “fifth element” of gastronomy reminds me of quintessence, especially because it is so fundamental and omnipresent in cooking.

Next, a bit of history. In 1908 the Japanese chemist Kikunae Ikeda set to work trying to figure out what it was exactly that made his wife’s dashi so damn tasty. He began experimenting on konbu, the dried kelp that is used as the base of all Japanese master stocks. He discovered two things: 1) umami is a separate and distinct basic taste that contributes a savory character to food, and 2) glutamic acid and its salts are responsible for the umami in konbu dashi. He went on to patent monosodium glutamate under the name Ajinomoto (“essence of flavor”), which to this day is a top-selling global brand of MSG. (Years later, two other umami-producing compounds would be discovered, inosinate from katsuobushi and guanylate from shiitake mushrooms.) I was about to write that MSG has been enjoyed in Japan for over 100 years, but I caught myself because in actuality it has been enjoyed there, and here, and everywhere, for much, much longer. For as long as we have made stocks, cheeses and pickles and eaten peas, pork, and tomatoes, we have been relishing glutamic acid in all its myriad manifestations. Common, traditional foods particularly high in glutamate include soy sauce, miso, aged cheese, wine, beer, kimchi, scallops, asparagus, and yeast extracts like Vegemite and Marmite.

I had planned on trawling the internet for an assortment of common claims about the negative health effects of MSG, but as it turns out, I didn’t have to – this guy has done it all for me. His name is Steve and he seems to be quite an interesting fellow. Likes include freshly brewed coffee, spreading Christianity around Africa, and demanding to see Barack Obama’s birth certificate (here you are, sir). Dislikes? Messing with Texas, the antichrist, and most of all, MSG. Steve’s list of grievances with MSG is long, and his tone histrionic. The many, many side effects he attributes to it range from the familiar (migraines, obesity, “Chinese restaurant syndrome”) to the extreme (Alzheimer’s disease, cancer, death) to the bizarre (drunkenness, autism, night terrors). He compares MSG to marijuana and crack, and claims that “Cantonese food would taste like dish water” without it. He is an active geyser of misinformation and hysteria.

Steve’s claim that he has solved his own personal health problems by eliminating glutamates from his diet may well be true. (His claim that a friend becomes “literally drunk” from MSG is probably not quite so true.) If his tachycardia went away by cutting out excess glutamic acid from his diet, good for him – I have no way of disproving that. But almost all his other claims are unfounded, and in fact many are called into question by sources that he himself cites. It would take me ages to wade through them all, so let’s just take a couple at random:

One article linked from the “Truth In Labeling” site that supplies Steve with most of his information cites a 2002 study meant to provide evidence of MSG-induced damage to the nervous system. The study involved feeding rats a diet of MSG for three months, finding that the rats had a buildup of glutamic acid in the vitreous humor and suffered from retinal damage. Scary. But the citation itself says that the rats were fed 10 grams of MSG a day. If that doesn’t sound like much, consider that lab rats weigh 500 grams on average. Even if we’re generous and suppose these particular rats weighed one full kilogram, then the math makes this study practically inapplicable to humans. I weigh 75,000 grams, probably about average for a human male. The rats were getting 1 gram of MSG per 100 grams body weight; this means that for me to eat an equivalent amount I would need to ingest 750 grams daily. This is an impossible amount – imagine three sirloin steaks and you’re in the ballpark. Hell, most of us wouldn’t even want to eat that much steak on a day to day basis.

Another article correlates a rise in MSG consumption with the rise in obesity in the United States. Could MSG cause obesity? Perhaps – it does so in rats, according to some studies. But let’s look at these studies more closely. Here again we see an unrealistically high daily dosage of MSG being administered to the rats, 2.5-5 grams, or on a human scale, about 200-400 grams; and yet they describe this as “concentrations that only slightly surpass those found in everyday human food.” They then conclude that MSG “exhibits significant potential for damaging the hypothalamic regulation of appetite, and thereby determines the propensity of world-wide obesity.” Does it? Let’s look at this handy pie chart: China, Indonesia, Japan, and Thailand are among the largest consumers of MSG in the world. And what do these countries have in common? If you answered “they’re in Asia,” you’re correct. But more to the point, they aren’t fat countries; in 2007 the WHO reported that in China only 28.9% of the population was obese, in Indonesia only 16.2%, in Japan 22.6%, and Thailand 31.6%. Out of 194 countries they rank 148th, 175th, 163rd, and 144th for fatness, respectively. None of these countries could be said to have a serious obesity problem, which isn’t definitive evidence that MSG doesn’t contribute to a higher BMI, but it certainly suggests that the contribution is trivial if it exists at all. “Truth In Labeling” ignores more important factors even as it lists them: “overeating, inadequate diet, junk food, lack of exercise, psychological problems, genetics, and bad parenting.”

What I glean from all this research is that MSG is probably slightly neurotoxic, but only in concentrations far beyond what a normal person would consume. I could be wrong, and if I saw conclusive evidence that MSG causes dementia or nightmares or blindness or whatever then I would admit it. But so far I have yet to see that evidence. To people like Steve who claim all manner of personal health problems brought on by MSG, I would simply shrug and say, “sucks to be you.” I think most of us would agree that there’s nothing inherently wrong with with peanuts or lactose, and yet some people have peanut allergies, and some are lactose intolerant. Sucks to be them. And if you think that MSG gives you headaches or diarrhea, then I’m afraid it sucks to be you, too.

Why does it suck to be you? Because MSG is a wonderful, wonderful thing to cook with. It has been pointed out that MSG is only necessary when the food it’s applied to is bland on its own. There is some truth to this; MSG can add a moreish quality to food that would otherwise be fairly flavorless, which is why it’s found in so many industrially manufactured food products. But then just imagine what it can do to food that’s already good. I am reminded of my days in Japan. At some point it dawned on me why the plain grilled pork belly at my usual yakitori bar tasted uncommonly delicious; why Japanese mayonnaise is far superior to the American version; and why Parmesan cheese tastes surprisingly good in ramen. It’s because the pork, the mayo, and the cheese all contain MSG, which makes them exceptionally mouthwatering, savory, and bold.

Just last night I made some BLTs, and after dinner I had some leftover tomatoes and avocados (they were actually BLATs). I decided to sprinkle on some MSG and gobble them up. Somehow it just made them taste more of themselves – fresher, sweeter, brighter. It’s similar to adding salt, but different – it adds a depth and a satisfying aftertaste that can only be described as a big boost of umami. Of course there are other ways to add umami to food: dashi, soy sauce, Parmesan, ketchup, etc. But MSG is the most pure. It allows the original ingredients to shine without any interference from superfluous flavors, and that’s what makes it so lovely.

You can try an experiment at home. Get yourself an ingredient – meat, fish, vegetables, it doesn’t matter. Divide it into four portions. Leave one unseasoned. Season one with salt. Season one with soy sauce. Season the last one with MSG. (You can get it at Asian grocery stores, or even at mainstream supermarkets if you look carefully.) Cook them all the same way, any way you like, then taste them, and you’ll get a good idea of what MSG does and why it can be so useful. (As a twist to the experiment, find a friend who claims to be MSG sensitive, blindfold them, give them the food and see how they react.)

As cooks and eaters we are denying ourselves a tremendously useful ingredient for no good reason. Of course there may be minor health risks from eating too much MSG, as there are from eating too much of just about anything. But in terms of flavor, it takes us where ordinary salt can only dream of going, into the deep, shadowy, sensuous world of umami. If MSG is risky, then it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

On their main page, the authors of “Truth In Labeling” proudly and prominently display a catchphrase that’s as pithy as it is desperately stupid:

If MSG isn’t harmful, why is it hidden?

I retort and close with a quotation that’s equally pithy (and a little glib) but much more incisive:

If MSG is so bad for you, why doesn’t everyone in Asia have a headache?

Further reading:

Dashi and Umami: The Heart of Japanese Cuisine by Yukiko Takahashi

The Day I Ate as Many E Numbers as Possible” by Stefan Gates, BBC News

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Merry Christmas and a Happy New Sphere (Part 3)

3 Jan

Okay, this post actually has nothing to do with spheres, I just like the pun and I want to use it as much as possible. This post is about what I cooked for New Year’s Eve, one of my most delicious yet simple dinners to date.

The first course was inspired by a dish I had in Paris, of langoustines baked inside little ceramic pots with red wine and butter, topped with little rounds of toasty brioche. Owing to slim pickings at Sainsbury’s, I had to swap out the langoustines for lemon sole (they had NO shellfish except pre-cooked prawns!) and the pots for ramekins, but never mind all that, because the dish turned out nearly perfectly. It was always my intention to use soy sauce and sake in place of the red wine, and I topped it with a bit of challah and a poached duck egg. It was a gorgeous, buttery, umami mess. And it couldn’t be simpler to make: Get your oven on to 200ºC/400ºF and skin four fillets of lemon sole or other flatfish. Chop ‘em up. Rub a couple ramekins liberally with butter, then press the sole into them, but not too firmly. Top with a nice chunk of butter, then a little splash of sake, and a littler splash of soy sauce. Slice challah to form a cap on the ramekin. Bake for about 15-20 minutes. The butter, sake, and soy sauce all melt together and flood into the fish, and it is so so so good. While the fish is baking, poach a duck egg. Keep the yolk runny! Fish comes out of the oven, egg goes on top of the toast, a little grind of pepper and course one is done. For a dish with only six ingredients, the flavor is huge, and I’ll bet if you use cornbread instead of challah it would be even better.

For the main course I decided to try my hand at one of Heston Blumenthal’s signature dishes: Salmon Poached in a Liquorice Gel. Now, I knew I would never be able to perfectly recreate this dish, even though it is one of his less complicated recipes, because it involved ingredients that were simply impossible to get at such short notice (and would have been a bit extravagant at any time): black truffles, 15 year old Balsamic vinegar, transglutaminase, two kinds of gellan, etc. Not to mention the equipment – I would have needed a vacuum sealer and a thermal immersion bath to really do this recipe right. Luckily, that was never my intention: I just wanted to test out what seemed like unlikely but potentially mind-blowing flavor combinations, namely salmon + licorice + vanilla + grapefruit.

What I wound up doing was simply making a seared salmon dish with a semi-set licorice sauce instead of the gel, but other than that, and the missing truffle, the dish was more or less the same as it appeared in the Fat Duck cookbook, and none too difficult. First, get your sauce going. Pour a bottle of stout into a pot with a little bit of water, a little bit of soy sauce, and some powdered dashi. For the licorice, I’d recommend pure licorice if you can get it; I used soft licorice candy, and it wasn’t quite strong enough and didn’t dissolve properly. Anyway, chop up a good handful of licorice and toss it in the pot and simmer everything. When the licorice is nicely incorporated (use a hand blender if you have to) and everything is simmering, add a leaf of gelatin and cook a while longer.

Next, prep your garnishes. Peel some asparagus (or don’t – I didn’t) taking off just the outermost green layer, leaving the tops intact. Scrape out a vanilla pod and mix the seeds with about two heaped tablespoons of good mayonnaise, or better yet, make your own mayonnaise. Put 250ml or so of Balsamic vinegar in a pan and reduce into a thick, black syrup. Now comes the tricky part, but it actually is worth the effort, and it doesn’t have to be perfect – your home is not a Michelin-starred restaurant, so chill out! Get a nice, ripe pink grapefruit. Peel it carefully. Strip away the outer membrane from a segment, and gently tease out the individual cells without breaking them. Using a toothpick or a paring knife or tweezers, separate each individual cell from the segment. Discard any broken cells. You’ll need about one segment worth of cells per plate.

Finally, let’s cook. Get yourself a nice big hunk of salmon and get the skin off and the bones out. Heat some good olive oil or avocado oil in a pan until it’s nice and hot, but not smoking. Sear the salmon on both sides for about 4-5 minutes, cooking for 8-9 minutes in total. Meanwhile, sauté the asparagus in olive oil in a lidded frying pan, so they steam as they sauté. It will take about the same amount of time as the salmon, but less time if you did peel them. To plate, streak a little vanilla mayo on one side of the plate, and place a little patch of grapefruit cells along the other. In the middle, spatter a bit of the Balsamic reduction. Rest the asparagus across the plate, then rest the salmon across the asparagus. Spoon on some licorice sauce, season to taste, and you’re done.

And it was good – the combination worked, and in fact it was the vanilla mayonnaise that really tied everything together. I loved how the different elements offset and underscored each other without becoming lost or muddled. It was surprisingly subtle, too, and I can only imagine how good it would be if prepared by the man himself.

Lastly, dessert. The dessert didn’t turn out quite right, if I’m honest, but it still tasted nice, so here it is. Coconut milk, milk, sugar, cream, and vanilla in a pan. Bring it to a boil. Add a leaf or two of gelatin and stir to dissolve. Break up some white chocolate into smallish chunks in a bowl, then pour on the hot coconut mixture and allow to melt. Whisk gently to dissolve any remaining chunks. Cool in the fridge for a good two hours. Meanwhile, chop up a couple ribs of rhubarb. Simmer them with lime juice, rose water, water, and sugar until very soft and syrupy, then allow to cool. Whip some cream to soft peaks, then fold into the coconut white chocolate to form a light mousse. Allow to set in the fridge for another two hours. To assemble, break up some ginger cookies and place them at the bottom of bowls or glasses. Sprinkle in some dessicated coconut, then add a spoonful of the rhubarb compote. Fill with the coconut white chocolate mousse, and top with more compote and more coconut.

Simple, yes, but I still managed to screw it up! What went wrong: I didn’t give the gelatin enough time to set, so the mousse turned out more like a kind of thick eggnog. But hey, ain’t nothin’ wrong with eggnog! We cleaned our teacups just the same, and rang in the New Year with satisfied stomachs, expensive sake, moderately priced beer, and cheap champagne.

MMXI will be MMXIting.

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Merry Christmas and a Happy New Sphere (Part 2)

2 Jan

Centuries before Adrià started producing liquid olives and apple caviar, pastry chefs were already engaging in a different kind of spherification – the magical creation of profiteroles out of pâte à choux. As a special Boxing Day dessert, I made profiteroles using two of my favorite Christmas gifts, a Kenwood Triblade and Pastry by Michel Roux.

To the standard crème pâtissière I added a splash of Cointreau and a big pinch of allspice to make the filling more Christmasy. In my midwestern mind, the flavor instantly evoked a memory of pumpkin pie, an unexpected but delightful association brought on by the unique aroma of the spice combined with a thick, creamy texture.

Profiteroles are simple, but there’s definitely something uncommonly exciting about them. I like the way they mushroom up out of little blobs to become beautiful and delicate puffballs. I like the way they conceal their filling like a naughty secret. And I love the way their fragile crunch gives way to a flood of cool, sweet, intoxicating cream. Of course I will always love and look forward to the British Christmas staples of mince pies, trifle, Christmas cake and Christmas pudding. But even after all the old standbys have been sampled, who doesn’t have room left for just one little profiterole?

Tomorrow: we have nothing to sphere but sphere itself.

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Merry Christmas and a Happy New Sphere (Part 1)

1 Jan

Amateur molecular gastronomists like me often seem to start their self-education with the same introductory lesson: spherification. The process was developed by Spanish culinary demigod Ferran Adrià, and his creations based on the technique have become international emblems of progressive cuisine; olive caviar, pasta-free ravioli, and eggs that look like eggs but taste like (wow!) truffle and asparagus are among the many marvels of spherification. The technique yields food that has a certain ooh-ahh visual impact, a lovely burst of pure flavor, and at its best, a “how did he do that?” sense of wonder to it. Spherification is actually pretty easy once you work out the dos and don’ts, and the ingredients you need – sodium alginate and calcium chloride – are available and affordable on the internet. It is probably the combination of accessibility and impact that make spherifcation a popular starting point for forays into culinary chemical arts.

Although it is well-known by the small (but growing) community of progressive chefs and gastro geeks, spherification isn’t really known or practiced much in common home cookery. Which is why I was surprised, and also delighted and slightly angered, to discover that the fish roe I used to garnish my Christmas canapés wasn’t actual roe at all but liquidized fish that had been spherified! Our suspicions arose when we noticed the flavor wasn’t quite right – not bad, just less salty and sweet and more smoky and meaty than roe usually is. And sure enough, the ingredients confirmed that we were actually eating a puree of smoked herring, dyed black and made into little balls with sodium alginate. And I got this at Sainsbury’s for four pounds – spherification for the masses! I was excited to find that this little nugget of avant garde cooking had found its way into the mainstream, but I also felt tricked. I thought I was buying roe! That’ll learn me to not read the label (I should have at least noticed the alarming description “reformed herring product).

But I actually liked the fake roe, and some of us actually preferred it to the real thing (typically I just get lumpfish roe, which isn’t great anyway). The smokiness in particular matched the smoked salmon nicely, and it seemed to give the dish a big boost of umami. There is something circuitous about using spherification to make fake roe (why not just use real roe?), but even so I think it was a clever application of the technique, and it made me wonder what else might work in a spherified form. Can you imagine pancetta caviar, maybe on a grilled oyster or scallop? Or melon caviar on Iberico ham? Soy sauce caviar on sushi? Yum yum.

Of course, there is a dangerous element to spherification, and that element is surprise. Half the fun of spherification in its basic form is expecting one thing and getting something else – but therein lies a potential risk as well. An exclamation such as “It’s not caviar after all, it’s licorice!” could be uttered with delight just as easily as it could be uttered with disgust. Heston Blumenthal writes in The Fat Duck Cookbook:

I was in Kyoto to make a presentation on umami at a food workshop. For breakfast one morning our hosts took us to a temple… waiters brought out bowls of rice that had been cooked in dashi until it had broken down. Resting on top of this was a small pool of dashi reduction that had been thickened with starch. It looked exactly like a bowl of porridge with a blob of honey or golden syrup in the middle. I’d had this before and knew what to expect… some of the others weren’t so lucky. They expected one thing and got another, and the barely concealed grimace on their faces suggested that only respect for our hosts was keeping them from spitting it out there and then.

I imagine the surprise of spherification, is pleasant only when the diner expects a surprise, but doesn’t know what that surprise will be. And that comes down to reputation, service, and atmosphere. Guests at The Fat Duck or El Bulli (or Noma or The French Laundry or Ryugin) must know that they’re in for some surprises, and that things may not be what they seem. It’s a risky game to play, but chefs that can make the element of surprise work in their favor introduce an extra layer of excitement and emotion to their cooking. And to me, it can turn a great meal into a thrilling event, and ultimately a treasured memory.

Tomorrow: our love is sphere to stay.

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