Another time, he leaned hot stones against a live tomato stalk, to conjure the quintessential summer smell of walking in the garden in the morning and brushing up against tomato leaves. A Pre-Raphaelite among Dadaists, he once put dry ice in a vase with charred garlic, rosemary, thyme, and black pepper: cookout fog. Over the years, the chef Grant Achatz, the most romantic of the molecular gastronomists, has experimented extensively with scent. It’s a comprehensive, often gut-churning look at the extremes the food movement is embracing the growing demand for the underground, the raw, the illegal and the otherwise questionably edible and the chefs and exotic-food purveyors responsible for getting such curios to the table. Among the delicacies Dana Goodyear, a staff writer for the New Yorker and lecturer at the University of Southern California, consumed while researching her latest book were the following: fresh ant eggs, frog fallopian tubes, crème brûlée made with bone marrow, and coffee brewed from beans fed to, and then excreted by, Asian palm civets, small catlike animals found in Southeast Asia.īelow is an excerpt from Goodyear’s non-fiction debut, Anything That Moves: Renegade Chefs, Fearless Eaters, and the Making of a New American Food Culture.
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