What do you think?
Rate this book
The Fat Duck Cookbook
The cookbook hailed by the Los Angeles Times as a "showstopper" and by Jeffrey Steingarten of Vogue as "the most glorious spectacle of the season...like no other book I have seen in the past twenty years" is now available in a reduced-price edition. With a reduced trim size but an identical interior, this lavishly illustrated, stunningly designed, and gorgeously photographed masterpiece takes you inside the head of maverick restaurateur Heston Blumenthal. Separated into three sections (History; Recipes; Science), the book chronicles Blumenthal's improbable rise to fame and, for the first time, offers a mouth-watering and eye-popping selection of recipes from his award-winning restaurant. He also explains the science behind his culinary masterpieces, the technology and implements that make his alchemical dishes come to life. Designed by acclaimed artist Dave McKean-and filled with photographs by Dominic Davies-this artfully rendered celebration of one of the world's most innovative and renowned chefs is a foodie's dream.
532 pages, Hardcover
First published October 13, 2009
37 people are currently reading
1463 people want to read
About the author
Heston Blumenthal
36 books47 followersHeston Blumenthal is chef-patron of The Fat Duck in Bray, a three Michelin-starred restaurant known for its whimsical, scientific and creative style of cookery and famed for being named World’s Best Restaurant more than once.
At the age of 16, Heston travelled to France with his family for the first time and became fascinated with the world of food. He spent the next decade learning the basics of French cuisine from books and working as everything from a photocopier salesman to a debt collector to fund annual research trips to France. One of the books that most influenced him was On Food and Cooking by Harold McGee, which questioned the fundamental rules of the kitchen and explored the science of cooking.
Heston opened The Fat Duck in 1995 with no financial backing. On the second day of opening the oven exploded, and Heston spent the rest of service with a bag of frozen peas on his head. Gradually, the restaurant eventually moved from serving simple French bistro food to the innovative, rule-breaking, multi-sensory tasting menu it serves today. Perhaps what is most extraordinary about the success of The Fat Duck is that Heston is entirely self-taught, save for three weeks spent in a few professional kitchens.
At the age of 16, Heston travelled to France with his family for the first time and became fascinated with the world of food. He spent the next decade learning the basics of French cuisine from books and working as everything from a photocopier salesman to a debt collector to fund annual research trips to France. One of the books that most influenced him was On Food and Cooking by Harold McGee, which questioned the fundamental rules of the kitchen and explored the science of cooking.
Heston opened The Fat Duck in 1995 with no financial backing. On the second day of opening the oven exploded, and Heston spent the rest of service with a bag of frozen peas on his head. Gradually, the restaurant eventually moved from serving simple French bistro food to the innovative, rule-breaking, multi-sensory tasting menu it serves today. Perhaps what is most extraordinary about the success of The Fat Duck is that Heston is entirely self-taught, save for three weeks spent in a few professional kitchens.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
January 20, 2015
Here is a book for and of the alpha-fe/male; a clear statement of status, of pecking-order, a ‘how-to-cook-and-why-you-won’t-want-to’ book for the affluent; and an inspirational grounding for the aspirational trainee chef-patron.
Is this book about day to day nutritional survival, answering that thorny question. “What’s for dinner tonight?” Absolutely not! One thought: In the index to 526 large pages, there is no mention of that staple of the Western world: the humble pizza. Chameleon-like this book is something of a sorcerer’s chemistry set itself; (almost) anything goes, or may be half-expected to (excepting pizza, that is). With zealous conviction and zest, boys playing at being boys, Blumenthal entertainingly argues with, persuades and wins-over his reader who, card in hand (no-one in Britain carries cash or gold ingots nowadays), dares to open the door and enter Blumenthal’s magical world of compulsively highly addictive multisensory treats and rewards. Duck-out only if you dare!
Since publication, this book must inevitably have boosted the number of table bookings at Blumenthal’s restaurants, especially “The Fat Duck”. It’s a book which describes in some detail the creative processes of inspiration and production; thus justifying (yay or nay) to diners considering their next degustation. See http://www.thefatduck.co.uk/The-Menus... a website upon which a handful of the illustrations from the “The Fat Duck Cookbook” can also be viewed.
This book is well and truly fit for purpose: it essentially explains to the bemused as to what the “The Fat Duck’s” three tough, really no-doubt-about-it VERY hard-won Michelin stars were awarded for. At the time of writing this review, the final bill for lunch or dinner comprises a commitment from the diner of 4 ½ hrs of their time and and £220 pp excluding service, wines extra. For the first six months of 2015 air fares will also need budgeted for, as the restaurant will be operating out of Melbourne! http://www.thefatduck.co.uk/Australia/
This book is about eating for absolute, satiated, unquestioned pleasure; for total, overwhelming nerve-cell electrifying satisfaction through sight, smell, touch, taste, and sound. Within these pages is found all-consuming overwhelming edible one-on-one on-the-edge adventure; teeth bared. Technicolor sights, olfactory ecstasy, salivary explorations, a texture of a ripple felt, a snap and the dish is unlocked. Pure hedonistic pleasure. Teetering on, and off the edge of a neuron a single daring shimmering descriptive word coalesces in the mind, perches on the tongue … until with a lizard’s flick that word is propelled with a sound sense of a senselessness ripping and rippling across more pathways than biological radar can track; striving to contain, to name, to surmount; with, Edvard Munch might, every bemused sense screaming, “Imposs ….ib …le!”; but utterly, indeed divinely desirable. Definition left temporarily speechless, each sense fibrillates until every sense and all sense interlocks in a stay-snapping heightened pirouetting spatial awareness of utter, utterly glorious pleasures of hope and expectations fulfilled. Such playful and sumptuous exploitation! Svengali-like Blumenthal-the-Great-Duck guides his reader, his diner, into a landscape of white-hot disciplinary absolutes teased from the applied sciences of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. Other books on the subject of cookery pale and crumble into insignificance; excepting those authored by the Magi: Kurti, This, and/or McGee.
“The Fat Duck Cookbook” is a book of three parts for a well-muscled reader; by which I do not mean over the age of eighteen; but rather one with either very good wrist and arm muscle, or possessing a large and solidly constructed book-rest or lectern; because this large book, sized at 244mm (w) x 281mm (h) x 42mm (d), weighs over two-and-a-half kilogrammes! Heavy gloss paper accounts for much of that. Many full pages carry artful illustration; many are filled by the cameraman.
Struggling find the key, the cunningly well-concealed two page index is eventually revealed folded-in within the middle of the book (between pages 267 and 275), flanked by a couple of lollies: Carrot and Orange (2002) versus Candied Beetroot & Grapefruit (2006); the latter a proud result of experiments in mouth-feel, in sound, and in devising the unexpected: an ‘edible wrapper’.
The first part of this highly engaging book is autobiographical; essentially a how where and when the ringmaster Blumenthal amassed and assembled the individual ingredients of his success. Finance, cash-flow and budgets are not made explicit. Blumenthal rails against those ‘quick and easy’ recipes that leave out essential information on processes (p.86). Point justified. There are an awful lot of sub-standard, badly written and untested recipes and cookbooks out there on the open market; poised to sabotage the unwary purchaser.
The plump second section of “The Fat Duck Cookbook”. book sings a veritable May dawn chorus of the restaurant’s recipes from 1998 to 2007; an expedition of wonder from Crab Biscuit in 1998 through 1999: Jelly of Quail, Langoustine Cream, Parfait of Foie Gras, with Truffle and Oak Toast, Scented Moss (p.154-161); 2003’s Snail Porridge (p.162-170); 2005’s Sole Véronique with triple-cooked chips (pp 350-355); to, eventually, 2007’s Beef Royale (1723 – the year, not the herd mark!) (pp. 382-385). Each dish pirouettes in a series of images to salivate over. All in all a real pleasure of glorious technical detail sufficient to taste convincingly delicious and very desirable within the reader’s imagination.
It doesn’t take much to conclude that this book screamingly points towards patentable food products as intellectual property. Technical equipment, chemistry and processes applied by Blumenthal are not that dissimilar from those of the manufacture of pharmacologically active drugs. After reading this book, who amongst us would NOT want to volunteer for Blumenthal Edible Phase One (First In Man(kind)) trials? Where exactly does the boundary lie between the definition between a pharmacological drug product and a nutritional substance, deemed nutritionally fit for human consumption? Blumenthal’s Tasting Menu is a mind-bending feel-great experience of the highest order!
Meanwhile, on the side, just reach out for the scientific equipment catalogues. Write nicely to Father Christmas this year, politely suggesting your requirements for a rotary evaporator. A vacuum chamber would be handy too; how else to remove bubbles from one’s caramel? (p.289). Stock-up too on skimmed milk powder, tartaric acid, and cryogenically frozen foie gras. Add also to the order (sorry, ‘request’) spray-dried apple granules and gellan F.
Not everything is high-faluting ‘scientific’ here. There is helpful information for even the most basic of cooks who bothers to carefully read this book. At the bottom-right of page 321, in a discussion of a langoustine dish, Blumenthal advises a ratio of 1:10:100 for the cooking of pasta; summarised as 100g pasta to 10g of salt to 1kg of boiling water. The point is to ensure that starch released during cooking is of insufficient a concentration to yield gluey cooked pasta. There’s also a helpful discussion on the properties of different types of rice used to make risotto (p.324).
The third and final section of this by now highly addictive book does expands on the science of it all, through a number of technical papers. Frustratingly, the font size is so reduced that a magnifier now becomes an essential, but imperfect accessory. Uncomfortable reading does nothing for the practical application of scientific intelligence to improve even so much as one’s own humble home-cooking. Did the Great Duck himself find the spine of his copy of this book, front and back, breaking in the same manner as mine? Was that why he shrank the text? For that heinous crime of the inconsiderate, and that alone, I deduct a star from my rating of this book. Verily, as the Great Duck himself has expounded to us, style may reach, but should never exceed, practicability. The name of the game is, after all, Potter-like to make the impossible appear truly, wonderfully and believably possible, the inedible become edible, the unthinkable become achievable, the unbelievable given form exquisite; all-in-all and overall as far as one could possibly, possibly, possibly get away from the well-intentioned theatrical antics of inedibility produced by Fanny and Johnny Cradock.
Is this book about day to day nutritional survival, answering that thorny question. “What’s for dinner tonight?” Absolutely not! One thought: In the index to 526 large pages, there is no mention of that staple of the Western world: the humble pizza. Chameleon-like this book is something of a sorcerer’s chemistry set itself; (almost) anything goes, or may be half-expected to (excepting pizza, that is). With zealous conviction and zest, boys playing at being boys, Blumenthal entertainingly argues with, persuades and wins-over his reader who, card in hand (no-one in Britain carries cash or gold ingots nowadays), dares to open the door and enter Blumenthal’s magical world of compulsively highly addictive multisensory treats and rewards. Duck-out only if you dare!
Since publication, this book must inevitably have boosted the number of table bookings at Blumenthal’s restaurants, especially “The Fat Duck”. It’s a book which describes in some detail the creative processes of inspiration and production; thus justifying (yay or nay) to diners considering their next degustation. See http://www.thefatduck.co.uk/The-Menus... a website upon which a handful of the illustrations from the “The Fat Duck Cookbook” can also be viewed.
This book is well and truly fit for purpose: it essentially explains to the bemused as to what the “The Fat Duck’s” three tough, really no-doubt-about-it VERY hard-won Michelin stars were awarded for. At the time of writing this review, the final bill for lunch or dinner comprises a commitment from the diner of 4 ½ hrs of their time and and £220 pp excluding service, wines extra. For the first six months of 2015 air fares will also need budgeted for, as the restaurant will be operating out of Melbourne! http://www.thefatduck.co.uk/Australia/
This book is about eating for absolute, satiated, unquestioned pleasure; for total, overwhelming nerve-cell electrifying satisfaction through sight, smell, touch, taste, and sound. Within these pages is found all-consuming overwhelming edible one-on-one on-the-edge adventure; teeth bared. Technicolor sights, olfactory ecstasy, salivary explorations, a texture of a ripple felt, a snap and the dish is unlocked. Pure hedonistic pleasure. Teetering on, and off the edge of a neuron a single daring shimmering descriptive word coalesces in the mind, perches on the tongue … until with a lizard’s flick that word is propelled with a sound sense of a senselessness ripping and rippling across more pathways than biological radar can track; striving to contain, to name, to surmount; with, Edvard Munch might, every bemused sense screaming, “Imposs ….ib …le!”; but utterly, indeed divinely desirable. Definition left temporarily speechless, each sense fibrillates until every sense and all sense interlocks in a stay-snapping heightened pirouetting spatial awareness of utter, utterly glorious pleasures of hope and expectations fulfilled. Such playful and sumptuous exploitation! Svengali-like Blumenthal-the-Great-Duck guides his reader, his diner, into a landscape of white-hot disciplinary absolutes teased from the applied sciences of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. Other books on the subject of cookery pale and crumble into insignificance; excepting those authored by the Magi: Kurti, This, and/or McGee.
“The Fat Duck Cookbook” is a book of three parts for a well-muscled reader; by which I do not mean over the age of eighteen; but rather one with either very good wrist and arm muscle, or possessing a large and solidly constructed book-rest or lectern; because this large book, sized at 244mm (w) x 281mm (h) x 42mm (d), weighs over two-and-a-half kilogrammes! Heavy gloss paper accounts for much of that. Many full pages carry artful illustration; many are filled by the cameraman.
Struggling find the key, the cunningly well-concealed two page index is eventually revealed folded-in within the middle of the book (between pages 267 and 275), flanked by a couple of lollies: Carrot and Orange (2002) versus Candied Beetroot & Grapefruit (2006); the latter a proud result of experiments in mouth-feel, in sound, and in devising the unexpected: an ‘edible wrapper’.
The first part of this highly engaging book is autobiographical; essentially a how where and when the ringmaster Blumenthal amassed and assembled the individual ingredients of his success. Finance, cash-flow and budgets are not made explicit. Blumenthal rails against those ‘quick and easy’ recipes that leave out essential information on processes (p.86). Point justified. There are an awful lot of sub-standard, badly written and untested recipes and cookbooks out there on the open market; poised to sabotage the unwary purchaser.
The plump second section of “The Fat Duck Cookbook”. book sings a veritable May dawn chorus of the restaurant’s recipes from 1998 to 2007; an expedition of wonder from Crab Biscuit in 1998 through 1999: Jelly of Quail, Langoustine Cream, Parfait of Foie Gras, with Truffle and Oak Toast, Scented Moss (p.154-161); 2003’s Snail Porridge (p.162-170); 2005’s Sole Véronique with triple-cooked chips (pp 350-355); to, eventually, 2007’s Beef Royale (1723 – the year, not the herd mark!) (pp. 382-385). Each dish pirouettes in a series of images to salivate over. All in all a real pleasure of glorious technical detail sufficient to taste convincingly delicious and very desirable within the reader’s imagination.
It doesn’t take much to conclude that this book screamingly points towards patentable food products as intellectual property. Technical equipment, chemistry and processes applied by Blumenthal are not that dissimilar from those of the manufacture of pharmacologically active drugs. After reading this book, who amongst us would NOT want to volunteer for Blumenthal Edible Phase One (First In Man(kind)) trials? Where exactly does the boundary lie between the definition between a pharmacological drug product and a nutritional substance, deemed nutritionally fit for human consumption? Blumenthal’s Tasting Menu is a mind-bending feel-great experience of the highest order!
Meanwhile, on the side, just reach out for the scientific equipment catalogues. Write nicely to Father Christmas this year, politely suggesting your requirements for a rotary evaporator. A vacuum chamber would be handy too; how else to remove bubbles from one’s caramel? (p.289). Stock-up too on skimmed milk powder, tartaric acid, and cryogenically frozen foie gras. Add also to the order (sorry, ‘request’) spray-dried apple granules and gellan F.
Not everything is high-faluting ‘scientific’ here. There is helpful information for even the most basic of cooks who bothers to carefully read this book. At the bottom-right of page 321, in a discussion of a langoustine dish, Blumenthal advises a ratio of 1:10:100 for the cooking of pasta; summarised as 100g pasta to 10g of salt to 1kg of boiling water. The point is to ensure that starch released during cooking is of insufficient a concentration to yield gluey cooked pasta. There’s also a helpful discussion on the properties of different types of rice used to make risotto (p.324).
The third and final section of this by now highly addictive book does expands on the science of it all, through a number of technical papers. Frustratingly, the font size is so reduced that a magnifier now becomes an essential, but imperfect accessory. Uncomfortable reading does nothing for the practical application of scientific intelligence to improve even so much as one’s own humble home-cooking. Did the Great Duck himself find the spine of his copy of this book, front and back, breaking in the same manner as mine? Was that why he shrank the text? For that heinous crime of the inconsiderate, and that alone, I deduct a star from my rating of this book. Verily, as the Great Duck himself has expounded to us, style may reach, but should never exceed, practicability. The name of the game is, after all, Potter-like to make the impossible appear truly, wonderfully and believably possible, the inedible become edible, the unthinkable become achievable, the unbelievable given form exquisite; all-in-all and overall as far as one could possibly, possibly, possibly get away from the well-intentioned theatrical antics of inedibility produced by Fanny and Johnny Cradock.
January 11, 2021
Again a treasure trove of cooking. Took me a while to finish it for some reason. Only of use for someone interested in food professional or food history or food science. Besides the recipes - I loved a little tidbit about how Heston came up with the idea. Also includes a bit of food science, and some articles on science of food.
January 12, 2010
I love how obsessive Heston is with his approach to scientific cooking. Some sections can be 'dork talk' overload, but he values cooking tradition, tweaks it, and is taking his craft to the next level. Not only self taught, the chef also has a three Michelin star restaurant which is where these recipes are inspired from...The Fat Duck.
My favorite recipe right off the spoon is the 'Nitro-Poached Green Tea and Lime Mousse'. Liquid nitrogen! word. Luckily enough for me, my friend acquired the nitrogen in a liquid state to make some eggnog ice cream. Like a witch's cauldron, I stirred the pot while the liquid nitrogen was poured in. Soon enough our dinner party audience were blown away by the spectacle. Can't forget cooking scrambled eggs at -321 F. (definitely a first)
Thanks to Heston's passion I have a new perspective of cooking with science. Hell, the oven that sits in most households today is not that old...why not some new toys for the kitchen. Heston has opened the door to science and technology, while keeping his traditional cooking roots and making way for....the nouvelle cuisine.
My favorite recipe right off the spoon is the 'Nitro-Poached Green Tea and Lime Mousse'. Liquid nitrogen! word. Luckily enough for me, my friend acquired the nitrogen in a liquid state to make some eggnog ice cream. Like a witch's cauldron, I stirred the pot while the liquid nitrogen was poured in. Soon enough our dinner party audience were blown away by the spectacle. Can't forget cooking scrambled eggs at -321 F. (definitely a first)
Thanks to Heston's passion I have a new perspective of cooking with science. Hell, the oven that sits in most households today is not that old...why not some new toys for the kitchen. Heston has opened the door to science and technology, while keeping his traditional cooking roots and making way for....the nouvelle cuisine.
December 22, 2009
I was pleasantly surprised by Heston's curiosity and how that linked with his love of food has created this wonderfully investigative way of thinking about cooking...I'm really pleasantly surprised by how much I appreciate his persectives.
January 23, 2025
★★★★★ A Masterful Blend of Art, Science, and Culinary History
The Fat Duck Cookbook is far more than just a collection of recipes—it's an intimate journey through the mind of one of the world's most innovative chefs, Heston Blumenthal. This stunning volume serves as both a historical document of The Fat Duck restaurant's evolution and a deep dive into the intersection of gastronomy and science.
The book's structure brilliantly mirrors Blumenthal's multifaceted approach to cooking. Beginning with the restaurant's history, readers are treated to a candid narrative of The Fat Duck's transformation from a modest pub to a three-Michelin-starred establishment. These personal insights make the book feel less like a conventional cookbook and more like a culinary memoir.
The photography deserves special mention. Each image is meticulously crafted, serving not just as decoration but as an essential tool for understanding the complex techniques and presentations. The visual documentation ranges from finished dishes to detailed step-by-step processes, offering readers a comprehensive view of Blumenthal's artistic vision.
While the recipes might intimidate home cooks (many techniques and ingredients are decidedly advanced), they provide fascinating insights into the precision and creativity required in modern haute cuisine. The scientific articles that conclude the book are particularly valuable, offering readers a theoretical framework for understanding the principles behind Blumenthal's innovative techniques.
What makes this cookbook truly special is its educational ambition. Even if you never attempt a single recipe, the wealth of knowledge about food science, culinary history, and creative thinking makes it an invaluable resource for anyone interested in gastronomy. The scientific sections, though technically complex, offer a fascinating glimpse into the relationship between food and physics, chemistry, and psychology.
Despite its technical complexity, the book remains engaging and inspiring throughout. Yes, some of the information may go over the reader's head—as it did mine—but this actually adds to its charm. It's like having a window into a world of culinary possibilities that extends far beyond conventional cooking.
For its price point, The Fat Duck Cookbook offers exceptional value. Between the historical documentation, the detailed recipes, the stunning photography, and the scientific insights, readers receive multiple books worth of content in one volume. It's both a coffee table book beautiful enough to display and a serious culinary text worthy of study.
While not every home cook will be able to recreate Blumenthal's elaborate dishes, the book succeeds brilliantly as both an educational resource and an art piece. It stands as a testament to the evolution of modern gastronomy and the endless possibilities that emerge when curiosity, creativity, and scientific rigor combine in the kitchen.
This isn't just a cookbook—it's a master class in culinary innovation, and an essential addition to any serious food lover's library.
The Fat Duck Cookbook is far more than just a collection of recipes—it's an intimate journey through the mind of one of the world's most innovative chefs, Heston Blumenthal. This stunning volume serves as both a historical document of The Fat Duck restaurant's evolution and a deep dive into the intersection of gastronomy and science.
The book's structure brilliantly mirrors Blumenthal's multifaceted approach to cooking. Beginning with the restaurant's history, readers are treated to a candid narrative of The Fat Duck's transformation from a modest pub to a three-Michelin-starred establishment. These personal insights make the book feel less like a conventional cookbook and more like a culinary memoir.
The photography deserves special mention. Each image is meticulously crafted, serving not just as decoration but as an essential tool for understanding the complex techniques and presentations. The visual documentation ranges from finished dishes to detailed step-by-step processes, offering readers a comprehensive view of Blumenthal's artistic vision.
While the recipes might intimidate home cooks (many techniques and ingredients are decidedly advanced), they provide fascinating insights into the precision and creativity required in modern haute cuisine. The scientific articles that conclude the book are particularly valuable, offering readers a theoretical framework for understanding the principles behind Blumenthal's innovative techniques.
What makes this cookbook truly special is its educational ambition. Even if you never attempt a single recipe, the wealth of knowledge about food science, culinary history, and creative thinking makes it an invaluable resource for anyone interested in gastronomy. The scientific sections, though technically complex, offer a fascinating glimpse into the relationship between food and physics, chemistry, and psychology.
Despite its technical complexity, the book remains engaging and inspiring throughout. Yes, some of the information may go over the reader's head—as it did mine—but this actually adds to its charm. It's like having a window into a world of culinary possibilities that extends far beyond conventional cooking.
For its price point, The Fat Duck Cookbook offers exceptional value. Between the historical documentation, the detailed recipes, the stunning photography, and the scientific insights, readers receive multiple books worth of content in one volume. It's both a coffee table book beautiful enough to display and a serious culinary text worthy of study.
While not every home cook will be able to recreate Blumenthal's elaborate dishes, the book succeeds brilliantly as both an educational resource and an art piece. It stands as a testament to the evolution of modern gastronomy and the endless possibilities that emerge when curiosity, creativity, and scientific rigor combine in the kitchen.
This isn't just a cookbook—it's a master class in culinary innovation, and an essential addition to any serious food lover's library.
February 8, 2018
Heston is a Chef of simply a different feather. A culinary Magician. His acclaimed Fat Duck restaurant located in Bray, UK has earned a Three Star Michelin Rating
July 27, 2019
As always, wonderful in this contemporary with no fantastic or sf elements but a surprise in the ending!
September 30, 2020
This may not be the world's most practical cookbook, but it is absolutely fascinating to read.
December 1, 2023
We go deep dive into the mind of what I would argue the most brilliant chef out there. We can understand Heston's thought process on every fenomenal dish that he has on Fat Duck.
December 26, 2023
heston is a genius. opened his own restaurant that eventually got 3 stars with only 1 month of formal kitchen experience.
January 20, 2012
I brought this back to the UAE from the UK after Christmas, something of a labour of love as the book weighs 5kg!
This is the British answer to the insanely talented Thomas Keller's lavish arch-work of food porn, The French Laundry Cookbook, Harper can surely not have started out on this project with any thought of making money from it. It's made up of three parts, Blumenthal's account of his journey to three star international acclaim; a selection of Fat Duck recipes and a section on the science of food. By the time I got to section three, I was worn down with chemistry fatigue.
It's amazing food, but after consuming this much visually, I'm actually not sure it's for me.
Blumenthal's journey is an interesting read in itself, although he gives away little of himself. He's an amateur chef who threw in the towel after his apprenticeship at Le Manoir led to him spending a week chopping beans. He sold his car to fund his trips to France to eat at the tables of the great and glorious, but nowhere tells us what his long-suffering wife's reaction to his obsession with food was. I also felt we were missing scenes here, it all reads very straightforwardly, there are no tears, sackings, thrown ladles or disasters. And yet these surely must have happened.
The recipes all contain, of course, processes or ingredients that you're never going to find in the average kitchen. Each one comes with a stunning photograph or series of images, an anecdotal background and then the recipe itself, often consisting of several sub-recipes. It's here you are forced to either admire Blumenthal or shake your head at the excesses of his fastidious fascination with food chemistry. There are blogs where people have attempted to cook their way through The French Laundry Cookbook, itself some feat. I'm willing to bet nobody ever tries to cook their way through this lot. I'm certainly not going to bother attempting any one of the recipes. I think it started to 'lose' me when a recipe for a flavoured mayonnaise called for 36g of egg yolks. You wonder if the world would end if 37g (*gasp!*) should possibly sneak in. All through the recipes section, we see 15g of this and 85g of that and I found myself wondering if the precision was not possibly part of the overall effect, if I was being presented yet another Fat Duck experience. Everything Blumenthal does is experiential, focused on giving his diner a combination of tastes, sights, smells and sounds that combine to form a moment of wonder.
The third section is about food science and includes features penned by some of the food scientists who have worked with Blumenthal over the years to create some of the effects and processes he uses. As someone deeply opposed to food additives and the lies of industrial food processing, I found myself uncomfortable with some of this, although Blumenthal himself argues in favour of what he sees as a maligned branch of science.
It's obsession that permeates this book, the product of a meticulous mind that seems to combine drive and determination with an alarming passion for detail.
It's admirable, but ultimately a bit wearing. I think after a few weeks I'll probably go back to it and pick through those lavishly presented pages (with a few too many baldy Blumenthal cartoons and photos, IMHO) to plunder them for the odd idea or two. And I'm glad I read it, I do admire the man and his work, even if I don't quite feel I understand him. (Do we have to understand chefs? No, but I felt more of a connection to Keller and his food, perhaps because it was more accessible?)
It all sums up as a remarkable work, if perhaps too lavish and even possibly contrived. I wouldn't let that stop you buying it and plunging into the visually explosive world of Heston Blumenthal, because it's certainly breathtaking.
This is the British answer to the insanely talented Thomas Keller's lavish arch-work of food porn, The French Laundry Cookbook, Harper can surely not have started out on this project with any thought of making money from it. It's made up of three parts, Blumenthal's account of his journey to three star international acclaim; a selection of Fat Duck recipes and a section on the science of food. By the time I got to section three, I was worn down with chemistry fatigue.
It's amazing food, but after consuming this much visually, I'm actually not sure it's for me.
Blumenthal's journey is an interesting read in itself, although he gives away little of himself. He's an amateur chef who threw in the towel after his apprenticeship at Le Manoir led to him spending a week chopping beans. He sold his car to fund his trips to France to eat at the tables of the great and glorious, but nowhere tells us what his long-suffering wife's reaction to his obsession with food was. I also felt we were missing scenes here, it all reads very straightforwardly, there are no tears, sackings, thrown ladles or disasters. And yet these surely must have happened.
The recipes all contain, of course, processes or ingredients that you're never going to find in the average kitchen. Each one comes with a stunning photograph or series of images, an anecdotal background and then the recipe itself, often consisting of several sub-recipes. It's here you are forced to either admire Blumenthal or shake your head at the excesses of his fastidious fascination with food chemistry. There are blogs where people have attempted to cook their way through The French Laundry Cookbook, itself some feat. I'm willing to bet nobody ever tries to cook their way through this lot. I'm certainly not going to bother attempting any one of the recipes. I think it started to 'lose' me when a recipe for a flavoured mayonnaise called for 36g of egg yolks. You wonder if the world would end if 37g (*gasp!*) should possibly sneak in. All through the recipes section, we see 15g of this and 85g of that and I found myself wondering if the precision was not possibly part of the overall effect, if I was being presented yet another Fat Duck experience. Everything Blumenthal does is experiential, focused on giving his diner a combination of tastes, sights, smells and sounds that combine to form a moment of wonder.
The third section is about food science and includes features penned by some of the food scientists who have worked with Blumenthal over the years to create some of the effects and processes he uses. As someone deeply opposed to food additives and the lies of industrial food processing, I found myself uncomfortable with some of this, although Blumenthal himself argues in favour of what he sees as a maligned branch of science.
It's obsession that permeates this book, the product of a meticulous mind that seems to combine drive and determination with an alarming passion for detail.
It's admirable, but ultimately a bit wearing. I think after a few weeks I'll probably go back to it and pick through those lavishly presented pages (with a few too many baldy Blumenthal cartoons and photos, IMHO) to plunder them for the odd idea or two. And I'm glad I read it, I do admire the man and his work, even if I don't quite feel I understand him. (Do we have to understand chefs? No, but I felt more of a connection to Keller and his food, perhaps because it was more accessible?)
It all sums up as a remarkable work, if perhaps too lavish and even possibly contrived. I wouldn't let that stop you buying it and plunging into the visually explosive world of Heston Blumenthal, because it's certainly breathtaking.
January 2, 2017
Heston discusses the evolution of his cooking at his first restaurant The Fat Duck, which is a very interesting journey. Heston's approach to cooking is methodical, scientific and creative, adding complexity then stripping meals back to their most basic elements. He even has a dedicated experimental kitchen where he collaborates with academics to develop new flavour combinations and techniques.
I found Heston's discussion on the perception of food fascinating. The way food tastes can be influenced by external factors such as the language used on the menu, the music and the setting, not just the flavours of the food itself (see 'Suggestible You' by Erik Vance).
The recipes in this book are largely for other professional chefs looking to replicate the Fat Duck menu, as the recipes are far too complex and impractical for even the most enthusiastic home cook. Nevertheless the introduction about the history of the Fat Duck and Heston's cooking is very interesting.
I found Heston's discussion on the perception of food fascinating. The way food tastes can be influenced by external factors such as the language used on the menu, the music and the setting, not just the flavours of the food itself (see 'Suggestible You' by Erik Vance).
The recipes in this book are largely for other professional chefs looking to replicate the Fat Duck menu, as the recipes are far too complex and impractical for even the most enthusiastic home cook. Nevertheless the introduction about the history of the Fat Duck and Heston's cooking is very interesting.
October 2, 2012
This is not your typical cookbook, Heston Blumenthal a curious chemist, lovingly writes how he became interested in food and his scientific approach to cooking with absolute precision. We learn about the history of his restaurant - The Fat Duck and how it became an international success, awarded with three Michelin stars. He clearly demonstrates his passion for food which shines through his revolutionary recipes and one will gain a deeper understanding of the science and flavours of food and how our senses are stimulated when eating.
The artwork and photography is stunning which raises the bar of gastro-porn. If you're a foodie seeking to experiment in the kitchen or looking to experience new flavours; this cookbook is simply inspirational coupled with a fascinating story of Heston Blumenthal.
– Robin Dutta-Roy, Online Marketing Manager
The artwork and photography is stunning which raises the bar of gastro-porn. If you're a foodie seeking to experiment in the kitchen or looking to experience new flavours; this cookbook is simply inspirational coupled with a fascinating story of Heston Blumenthal.
– Robin Dutta-Roy, Online Marketing Manager
April 17, 2013
I'm not going to go reviewing all the cookbooks I have read/used here, but this is a bit different. The Fat Duck Cookbook includes recipes, but of course they're the ones used at the Fat Duck, with all the esoteric ingredients and high tech equipment required. There is also Heston's history of becoming the respected driving force of "one of the best restaurant in the world", and a whole bunch of science of cookery stuff. Then too there are lovely illustrations by Dave McKean.
I may not cook any recipes in here in their entirety, but I've already taken a few of the ideas and used them in my cooking.
If you disapprove of the idea of cooking as pure art form you should stay clear, or at least keep quiet. If cooking were meant solely to nourish the body we would just be steaming everything and it would be terribly dull.
I may not cook any recipes in here in their entirety, but I've already taken a few of the ideas and used them in my cooking.
If you disapprove of the idea of cooking as pure art form you should stay clear, or at least keep quiet. If cooking were meant solely to nourish the body we would just be steaming everything and it would be terribly dull.
May 23, 2011
If you don't know Heston Blumenthal, check him out.
He is the equivalent of the high-school physics class in which you shoot a flaming potato from one side of the football field to the other PLUS the art class where you take a bunch of naked pictures of people, make them into a collage, and get an A on the project, even if you can't show it at the school art show, AND the English class in which you conjugate the verb "shit" with the full cooperation of your teacher.
A whole hell of a lot of fun, being absolutely geeky.
The cookbook is illustrated by Dave McKean. The recipes are more sub-recipes than you can shake a stick at. The science section is more valuable than your Zen master's stick to the back of your head.
He is the equivalent of the high-school physics class in which you shoot a flaming potato from one side of the football field to the other PLUS the art class where you take a bunch of naked pictures of people, make them into a collage, and get an A on the project, even if you can't show it at the school art show, AND the English class in which you conjugate the verb "shit" with the full cooperation of your teacher.
A whole hell of a lot of fun, being absolutely geeky.
The cookbook is illustrated by Dave McKean. The recipes are more sub-recipes than you can shake a stick at. The science section is more valuable than your Zen master's stick to the back of your head.
April 17, 2013
I was given this book for Christmas. I just happened to have two red cabbages in the house, so made the Red Cabbage Gazpacho for Christmas lunch. With the red wine mayonnaise, and the cucumber brunoise, but I lacked something for the mustard ice cream and made a mustard cream instead.
Sigh. Life can be wonderful.
There are many things you will never cook from this book. But you will certainly devour the recipes and information about food and cooking that he has to offer.
Hester Blumenthal has an entirely different take on cooking and a keen understanding of food science. If you want to step out of the ordinary into a richly original world of food, this is a very good start!
Sigh. Life can be wonderful.
There are many things you will never cook from this book. But you will certainly devour the recipes and information about food and cooking that he has to offer.
Hester Blumenthal has an entirely different take on cooking and a keen understanding of food science. If you want to step out of the ordinary into a richly original world of food, this is a very good start!
March 31, 2011
Inspirational. While many, myself included, may find what Heston Blumenthal is doing a bit too bizarre at times, he is undeniable revolutionizing food and cooking on an unprecedented scale. The most creative and brilliant chef working today. It might not be my style of food, but it is amazing to read about his story. As an actual instructional cookbook, it is a bit useless, unless you happen to have a rotary evaporator, centrifuge and a few pounds of Gellan on hand. But in a general sense it was the most inspirational cookbook I've read since the French Laundry cookbook.
December 16, 2010
An astonishing achievment from one of the most exciting figures in cutting-edge cooking. Everyone interested in Molecular Gastronomy or just generally the use of science in food owes it to themselves to read this book.
Split into several sections the book gives a complete overview of the resteraunt, from it's history, to the techniques and ingredients and complete recipes for "every" dish that has appeared on their menu.
Truely a sight to behold.
Split into several sections the book gives a complete overview of the resteraunt, from it's history, to the techniques and ingredients and complete recipes for "every" dish that has appeared on their menu.
Truely a sight to behold.
September 25, 2011
Much more accessible than it first appears, this is a great insight into the mind and methods of a fascinating chef. I'm not expecting to cook any of the dishes from the recipes section, nor even sure I want to go and eat at The Fat Duck, but there are definitely lots of ideas and insights to take away.
Probably the physically heaviest book I've ever read from cover to cover, and well worth it!
Probably the physically heaviest book I've ever read from cover to cover, and well worth it!
June 18, 2012
What a wonderful book! Amazing and innovative photos/sketches for his modern dishes! Very interesting and innovative ideas for each recipe. I had fun following the chef and his train of thought throughout this book. I highly doubt I'll attempt even a single recipe from this book, but it's
all-in-all a beautiful cookbook.
all-in-all a beautiful cookbook.
July 15, 2014
An interesting new development in cookery. This is the practical extension of McGee On Food & Cooking and Michael Ruhlman's The Elements of Cooking and Ratios.
I have lent this book to several people, including a Chemistry teacher who rushed out and bought the book for himself.
Unfortunately I think Blumenthal has fallen in love with himself in recent years.
I have lent this book to several people, including a Chemistry teacher who rushed out and bought the book for himself.
Unfortunately I think Blumenthal has fallen in love with himself in recent years.
January 9, 2011
The images, recipes and culinary theory in this book is just incredible. What a wacky guy! Jeffrey Steingarten reviewed the book for Vogue and said it was a "glorious spectacle." He's right.
Read
February 8, 2011I love cookbooks. What else is there to say?
Want to read
July 11, 2011this kind of thing is usually not my style, but aside from the dave mckean drawings and the general prettiness, i think i could probably learn something.
October 16, 2013
Being a vegetarian I probably won't be cooking out of this book. Reading the recipes and looking at the photography was a trip down memory lane, when I did cook and eat this way.
April 28, 2013
Heston is a genius, very tenacious to the extreme which lead to his own very success!
Well done!
Well done!
July 29, 2014
Part autobiography, part chemistry book, part cookbook. One of the most interesting and intensive cookbooks I've read. Thoroughly enjoyable
Currently reading
October 12, 2015the main key to the book is to play with your mind and the author has succeeded in doing it so far
Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews