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The other day I watched the movie “Vicky Cristina Barcelona” for the 3rd time.
The actress Rebecca Hall is my favorite and as a character in the movie. I prefer her more than Penélope Cruz and Scarlett Johansson. But Javier Bardem undoubtedly played a masterful role…

There is a line in the movie:

“Only unrealized love can be romantic”

I think there is a lot of truth and accuracy in it.

Now, my question is: “Can an unrealized chef be top-notch and can he provide a transcendental gastronomic experience, somewhat “romantic” for those who prepare his dishes…!?

Below are some cited texts from an interesting book with essays related to architecture and gastronomy:

EATING ARCHITECTURE
edited by Jamie Horwitz and Paulette Singley
MIT ed. 2006

Delectable decoration: TASTE AND SPECTACLE IN JEAN-FRANÇOIS DE BASTIDE’S LA PETITE MAISON

Rodolphe El – Khoury

“Taste was not only identified with the natural ability and, more or less literally, with the sensory organ for perceiving the beautiful – “le sens interne du beau”: “It is the sixth sense in us, the organs of which we cannot see. The purpose of aesthetic perception was also attributed to taste, “which is nothing other than the rapid and perceptive discovery of the degree of pleasure that each thing should afford us”.

Gastronomy and eroticism have overlapped since the tasting of the forbidden fruit, but the oral proclivity for eros was particularly pronounced in the eighteenth century, when the debaucher was commonly known to combine sexual excess with gastronomic pleasure.

Despite its undeniable ocularcentrism, the aesthetic discourse of the enlightenment repeatedly appealed to the mouth to demonstrate the immediacy and acuity of aesthetic perception: “We taste a stew, and even without knowing the rules of its composition we can tell whether it is good.
The same is true of painting and other products of the intellect that seek to please us by touch.

The Surrealists were not particularly interested in architectural expression, but Salvador Dalí is one of the rare exceptions. Inspired by the architecture of Art Nouveau, Dalí pointed to the importance of edible buildings for creating a new poetic dimension of architecture.

Dalí connects the origin of pleasure in architecture with childhood from the point of view of oral pleasure. The tactile dimension of taste expresses the desire to learn through cannibalism; that is, to incorporate the outside world into oneself. This productive reasoning is based on instinct, just as the continuous oral tasting of childhood is an instinctive part of cognitive appropriation.

Voltaire’s article “Goût” in the Encyclopédie is also based on a rhetorical (even aphoristic) comparison of “the ability to distinguish the taste of our food” and the sense of beauty and defects in all the arts.”
He thus writes that taste is “like the tongue and the palate: a ready and unreflective discernment, sensitive and persistent in appreciating the good, violent in rejecting the bad, often lost and uncertain, not even knowing whether to be satisfied with what is presented to it, and sometimes formed only by habit.”

Taste is therefore the fundamental prerequisite of genius; character is the imprint or mark left by genius in a work; taste, in turn, is the receptive faculty that can discern character.”

In October 2021, I was in Athens with my sister who has been living and working

there for several years…
Among other things, we ate the traditional cheese pie “Tiropita”.
Tyropita or Tiropita is a Greek pastry made of layers of thinly rolled dough, spread with butter and filled with a mixture of cheese and eggs.

Since I was watching 24kitchen a few days ago, the show “Aki’s Food Tour” reminded me of Greek pies with various fillings.
For the first time in the history of television, one of the most famous Greek chefs, Akis Petretzikis, does not cook, but watches others and learns recipes.
He is accompanied by viewers who suggest places they would like to see in the series, but also locals who help him discover what “haute gastronomy” really means in the local kitchens, fields and mountains of Greece.

A little different, but very easy to prepare – Alevropita (Αλευρόπιτα, Greek Thin-Batter Feta Pie).

Alevropita (translated as Flour Pie) that’s quick and assembled less than the time it takes your oven to pre-heat.
Alevropita is a pie made with a flour-based batter which originates from north-western Greece, specifically Epirus. Epirotic cuisine is known for its pies, and among the many varieties available, this may be the simplest.

The literal translation of alevropita is flour pie (alevri is Greek for flour).

To prepare alevropita, a thin batter is prepared in about 5 minutes – less if you move really quickly, and crumbled feta sprinkled on top before baking. The end result is a thin and crispy bread-like pie that is truly delicious.

The bottom and top are crisp, the middle is soft, quiche-like and the star here is Feta cheese. Splurge on the good stuff (from Greece of course).

Here are photos of my tried-and-tested Alevropita and I can say that it is unusually interesting and good, especially crispy when freshly baked.

Recipe:

275 g plain flour
340 ml lukewarm water
40 ml milk
2 eggs (100g)
2 tablespoons full-fat yogurt
1 level teaspoon salt

Feta cheese, 300 g
20 g butter (cut into pieces)
4 tablespoons olive oil

Baking time = 20-25 min. 250 C

30-35 cm baking pan (must be slightly oiled and a few minutes warmed up in the oven)

More than a decade ago, I bought the book “The art of looking sideways, Alan Fletcher”.

It is a book that many world designers call the design bible, generally today. It is quite thick and has 533 pages. For me it has always been precious and somewhat provocative. It encouraged me to question the concept of design, and even life in general, as well as the things that surround us every day.

As I studied and graduated from the design of market communications, I became increasingly interested in gastronomy and cooking. So 11 years ago, I enrolled in a retraining course to become a chef in Zagreb and set off into the world of gastronomy and serious cuisine…

I started in Zagreb, continued as a seasonal worker, in the winter in Austria, HInterglemm (Hotel Unterschwarzachof), https://www.unterschwarzach.at/de/

https://www.der-schwarzacher.at/de

In the summer season on the Croatian Adriatic coast at Laganini beach club, island of Čiovo. https://www.laganinibeachclub.com

Soon after, I bought the book “A Day at elBulli, Ferran Adria”. Which is an Insight into the Ideas, Methods and Creativity of Ferran Adrià. Is an exclusive look behind the scenes at elBulli, the best restaurant in the world, and into the mind of Ferran Adrià, the most creative chef working today.

I think these two books are closely related… Each in its own field, but at the same time they broaden horizons and open new perspectives and develop creativity, both in design and in gastronomy and cooking.

The most famous technique for adding starch is using a combination of flour and butter, and in the culinary world it is known as roux (pronounced ru). You guessed it, it is a technique that is better known in our country as roux.
Roux has its advantages, it gives a special flavor to dishes and makes them thicker, but on the other hand it has its disadvantages. It burdens the digestion, because it contains oil, fat or butter, it adds unnecessary calories to the dish, and it is also forbidden for people who cannot or do not want to eat wheat, because it is usually made with white flour.

Fortunately, there is a solution.

If you want to thicken a dish such as stew, soup or a sauce, instead of the classic roux made from flour fried in fat, you can do it with the so-called cold roux.https://slobodnadalmacija.hr/mozaik/spiza/savjeti/hladna-zaprska-puno-je-bolja-od-klasicne-ne-opterecuje-probavu-i-ne-deblja-mnogi-za-nju-ne-znaju-a-spas-je-u-kuhinji-1423310

I remember my MOTHER teaching me how to make “zaprška” (roux). She always said it was the old-fashioned way, like her great-grandmother did… Never butter, just oil and flour – and the smell would be quite intense from toasting the flour in sunflower oil…

Today, in the modern age of cooking, “zaprška” is a “sin”, but I still love the old-fashioned ways that give a special flavor and charm to certain dishes – primarily my precious (comfort food).

Ever since I learned what a good sauce is 10 years ago during my internship at the bistro Apetit (Jurjevska 65a, Chef Goran Kočiš), my obsession with sauces continued during the season in Austria when I worked my first winter season in Hinterglemm (Salzburg Province), Hotel Unterschwarzachof, Restaurant Der Schwarzacher.

Chef Patron Hubert, cooked it every few days and made supplies for the coming weeks… I remember well the cute jars filled with chef’s “gold”, a rich bronze – dark – brown color. Demi-glace.

The veal or beef bones (oxtail, neck bones, marrow bones) were roasted until dark brown, almost burnt (but there is a very fine line there). The root vegetables were caramelized in a large rectangular vat along with tomato concentrate, and all of this was poured with red wine that had to evaporate…
After pouring in the meat stock, the well-caramelized bones were thrown into the vat, along with a few bay leaves, fresh thyme, and black peppercorns.
The rule was to cook for hours, until the next day, but at a low temperature, so that it simmered gently to extract as much flavor, aroma, collagen, and all the goodness as possible from the bones and vegetables.

The liquid was then strained through a very fine sieve and continued to reduce to a syrupy consistency, a dark, rich brown color, and a sticky mouthfeel… The sauce was finished off by boiling and adding a small amount of butter when served.

In the middle of kindergarten, my grandmother taught me how to knead bread.
It was important to get good quality, homemade flour, preferably freshly ground.

We had to sift it through a fine sieve to make the bread looser.
The basic rule was to knead it long enough to develop the gluten, but never add water afterwards.

Only flour was allowed to be added in small quantities.

I remember that my hands used to hurt from kneading. My grandmother used to say – when you think you’ve had enough, just keep kneading…

The scale was never used, and the baking time was based on my grandmother’s own experience.

The crust of the bread was the best part of the bread that had just come out of the oven.

Bread and “Klipići” were my start, followed by homemade “Trganci” – on long-caramelized onions. We only put flour, water, a little salt and oil in the trganci. Pure “LA CUCINA POVERA”.