I am man. Hear me simmer gently

I am man. Hear me simmer gently

Jul 29, 2008 04:30 AM

VINAY MENON
The other night, at a dinner party in the Annex, I caught a glimpse of the future.

Standing in his backyard, a male friend hovered over his barbecue. He basted. He wielded tongs. And he fussed with plump chicken breasts the way a florist might fuss with an arrangement of orchids and birds of paradise.

In the kitchen, his 16-year-old son slaved over a gas stove, cooking for the kid-sized revellers.

Later, a male guest sidled up to the flaming element.

He waxed rhapsodically about French cuisine. Then he pan-fried asparagus, pausing to shout a, "Where do you keep the olive oil?" to the lady of the house, who was in the living room chatting about structural engineering with the other female guests.

Perched on a stool, I cradled my martini and figured it was only a matter of time before one of the men sent me out on an emergency turmeric run.

"No problem!" I'd yell, fumbling with the keys to my aptly-named Odyssey. "How are we for lemongrass?"

According to research – by which I mean a marketing-driven report commissioned by a British food company and conducted by the Orwellian-sounding Future Foundation – there is a new breed of man among us.

He is known as the "Gastrosexual." And if this month's "The Emergence of the Gastrosexual" is to be trusted, he is "masculine," "upwardly mobile," "aged 25-44," and "passionate about cooking and the rewards that it might bring – pleasure, praise and potential seduction."

In evolutionary terms, the Gastrosexual's opposable thumbs are perfectly adapted to pinch saffron into risotto. The Gastrosexual walks upright, like Homo erectus, even while navigating world grocery aisles.

The Gastrosexual also uses tools, like Homo habilis once did, though the crude stone implements used to down wild animals have since given way to self-sharpening knives and butane-powered blowtorches that caramelize the sugars atop crème brûlées.

And like Homo neanderthalensis, the Gastrosexual must deal with the conflicted reaction of Mrs. Homo neanderthalensis, who is all like: "Honey, it's great that you're making dinner again but can't we get out of this cave for one miserable night? I had a long day at work. I don't feel like waiting for your slow-cooked pork roast."
http://www.thestar.com/News/Columnist/article/468909

I dont like this homo gashomo talk, I started loving food and flavour when I used to come home drunk as a teenager and needed something to fill my belly, id cook and ease the munchies, thats about it for me . Now later on in life being married with kids and the wife working off the farm i find myself having to cook a meal for her and the kids as they roll in the door around 5:30 at night and I figure if im gonna do it I wanna blow my mind with flavour and something new everyday. Now that i find myself getting pretty good at it i sometimes thinhk about making money off it, so i dont think this over analysis as being labelled as something strange is accurate, I just think I like to fen eat and I like good food

Hey Skully when we both worked i got supper every night during the week.The best cooks are men

wickens wrote:

Hey Skully when we both worked i got supper every night during the week.The best cooks are men

That's because we're not "cooks" we're Chefs!