Wednesday, March 24, 2010

abstract

“The gastronomic must no longer serve as mere metaphor for the arts, but must take its place among the muses.”

Weiss, Allen S. “Culinary Manifestations of the Genius Loci.” Eating Architecture. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. 2004, pp. 25.


Isidore of Seville, in his seventh century work Isidori Hispalensis Episcopi Etymologiarum sive Originum, reminds us of the relationship between cuisine and reason: he etymologizes the word sapiens (wise, rational) and proposes sapor (taste) as its source, explaining that “just as the sense of taste is able to discern the flavours of different foods, so too is the wise man able to discern objects and their causes since he recognizes each one as distinct and is able to judge them with an instinct for truth.” Taste, defined as such, is the interdisciplinary means for assessing and appreciating all that exists – and thus the instigator of creativity and change.

The acquisition and development of taste can also cross between disciplines. Though I have no formal culinary training, I am keen, curious, and can cook with infinite artistic freedom as often as I like; conversely, I am educated in architecture, but have limited opportunity to practice what I’ve learned. As both architecture and the culinary arts stem from judgment and invention – and as even architecture students need to stop working to eat – cooking has naturally become my daily outlet for expression and experimentation.

In the kitchen I can be the designer, the craftsman and the client, all at once. As the designer, I consider the tools and ingredients available, and find creative ways to accommodate both personal taste and nutrition. I interact with suppliers in my search for sustainable resources, and determine their proportion and composition to maximize performance and aesthetics. As the craftsman, I draw on self-taught skills to create the proposed dishes. More importantly, however, I first investigate what potentials are embedded in each ingredient – for, in the words of Richard Sennet in his book The Craftsman, all of my “efforts to do good quality work depend on curiosity about the material at hand.” As the client, I set parameters at the beginning and evaluate the results at the end.

The dishes that come out of my kitchen vary according to my resources, requirements and appetite. They are expressions of my personal taste and yet reflections of my world. My recipes are dissections of methodology – a self-integrated design process – and illustrate how and when I incorporate nutrition, community responsibility and delight. Ultimately, this “recipe book” is the story of how architecture has enriched my cooking, and how cooking will make me a better architect.

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