Old flames: There’s more to fire than just the role it plays in cooking

Where there’s food, there’s fire, in some form or the other

What is it about cookery shows that draws us to them? We don’t get to eat the food, and often we are so mesmerised by the razzmatazz that we don’t actually follow the process of cooking. But food programmes — hosted by trained chefs, villagers, writers, homemakers, and so on — have us all hooked. Why? I think I’ve found the answer — it’s the sight of a fire burning bright that draws us. Where there’s food, there’s fire, at least in some form. Fire figures prominently in a book I have been reading — Michael Pollan’s Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation. The cover is rather attractive — it shows a nicely browned sausage. I could imagine it sizzling over a crackling fire. And I could even get the aroma of a somewhat burnt sausage. Pollan writes about people’s fascination with watching food being cooked. “I would watch, rapt, when my mother conjured her most magical dishes, like the tightly wrapped package of fried chicken Kiev that, when cut open with a sharp knife, liberated a pool of melted butter and an aromatic gust of herbs. But watching an everyday pan of eggs get scrambled was nearly as riveting a spectacle, as a slimy yellow goop suddenly leapt into the form of savoury gold nuggets.”