This seemed to be an interesting idea for a cookery-related book; and possibly a book that I first thought would end up In my collection of recipe books for reference purposes. However I quickly lost interest in the narrative/history.

I've got a weakness for food history books. I love cooking (and eating!) and I'm also a cultural history buff. I'd say this book is middle-of-the-road for its sort.

The idea is that the author researched how often words came up during US history (I don't know her methodology for this) and these eight flavors came up the most: pepper, vanilla, chili powder, curry powder, soy sauce, garlic, MSG and sriracha. (This doesn't include coffee and chocolate, which she excluded because so much has been written on these topics already.)

The flavors are written about in the historical order in which they were preeminent. Pepper was a big deal early on in American cooking! Until vanilla became more accessible, rose water was used to flavor many baked goods. Did you know that ketchup and soy sauce have common roots in American history? These sorts of tidbits were what I found most interesting about the book.

Really, the history of American food culture is the history of immigration. Again and again the author related how a given ethnic group was seen as foreign and undesirable, never to be assimilated, coming to take all the jobs. Chinese, Italian, Mexican, etc, etc. The whole isolationist thing is nothing new. In fact, we've been even bigger jerks about it in the past. And it's never worked, and the fears associated with it have never been borne out. Immigrant labor has been incredibly important to our growth as a nation. It's enriched our culture and enlivened our food. It's really the natural order of things, and stopping it is like trying to hold back the ocean with a teaspoon.

The author doesn't really do much with this thesis other than stating the facts of the matter. The reason I didn't give the book higher marks is because it's really all over the place. The author uses different structures in each chapter- sometimes she follows a historic figure that has something (sometimes not all that much) to do with the flavor she's writing about, like with vanilla or soy sauce. Sometimes she talks more about cookbooks like with pepper or curry powder. Sometimes she focuses on a group like the Chili Queens of Texas. Sometimes, like with MSG, she talks perhaps too much about exactly how the molecule is formed.

And I'm not impressed by the author's historical rigor or logical follow-through. For example, she discussed how Americans used soy sauce way back in colonial times, and were more familiar with it than we thought. Then she discussed how a Chinese person tried to introduce soy sauce to America because no one had heard of it. There was a disconnect there.

Finally, I would really have liked to know more about how she chose her subjects to begin with. If these are the top flavors that come up, how did she discover this? Cookbooks, google, menus, letters? I'm not sure. Tracing some primary sources in more depth would have been interesting, to me at least, and given us more of the original language used to discuss the flavors. Admittedly, I did not peruse the footnotes- that's just no fun to do with an ebook.

So while I always like reading about food, the inconsistencies in how the different flavors were presented and the lack of rigor seem to me to make for a forgettable book.

Sarah Lohmnan, a historical gastronomist, traces America's culinary history through the influence of 8 flavors: black pepper, vanilla, chili powder, curry powder, soy sauce, garlic, MSG, and sriracha. It's a fascinating look at how American cuisine has evolved over time and includes recipes long forgotten and out of fashion to illustrate just how much our culinary sensibilities have changed over the centuries.
What really makes this book go from an interesting history to an insightful and impactful cultural examination is Lohman's use of personal anecdotes connecting her to the ingredients and stories of the people who influenced the introduction of these ingredients. When I liberally sprinkle black pepper on my dinner, I now find myself thinking of the merchant who traveled the globe in pursuit of black pepper to bring back to New England. When I balk about the price of real vanilla extract next time, I can connect its accessibility to the clever young slave who figured out how to artificially pollinate vanilla orchids. This is an incredible book that not only provides further insight into how ingredients we take for granted got here; it also gives us some great dinner party talking points. Highly recommend!

Accounting for Taste: Eight Flavors: The Untold Story of American Cuisine by Sarah Lohman explains how we came to use our favorite ingredients

This history of American food focuses on eight specific flavors–flavor defined as “a concentrated mixture of aromatic compounds that provide all or part of the sensory experience of a food or a beverage”–and illustrates that our shared cuisine is based in immigrated ingredients. Drawing on the oldest American cookbooks, newspaper articles, and yesterday’s storied restaurants and chefs, Sarah Lohman traces the significance of the eight most popular flavors: vanilla, garlic, soy sauce, sriracha, curry, pepper, msg, and chili powder.

Lohman spins eight compelling tales discussing the chemistry or science of the flavor (we have a biological preference for most of them), it’s history from first known uses to the how and why it may have migrated (and they all migrated) to older and newer applications, waxing and waning popularity, and one or two recipes highlighting the ingredient. Each tale is populated with the people who changed the kitchen landscape: In the case of garlic, Italian Americans used it in everyday cooking altering the smell of sauteing forever and in the case of Sriracha, David Tran, the man who invented and continues to make the bottled hot sauce in California at his plant Huy Fong (named for the boat that brought he and his family over from Vietnam).

A food historian who works at the New York Tenement Museum and gives lectures at the Brooklyn Brainery, Lohman’s enthusiasm for (and knowledge of) her subject is infectious at times and the recipes, although seemingly ambitious, bring the history home. Bonus: Lohman’s food trivia game is strong such as Sriracha is a big company making small batches resulting in subtle differences in color and flavor per bottle and “Arguably, the best bowl of chili in America today can be found where it has always been found: in San Antonio, made by a woman.” The best being the Institute of Chili food truck run by Ana Fernandez whose “chili was named the best in America by /Food & Wine/ magazine in 2013. But she served it only in season.” (Lohman never explains when chili season is but one can guess it isn’t during the Texan summer.) One more: “Soy sauce is the third-best-selling condiment in the United States, behind mayonnaise and ketchup.”

Wendy Ward
http://wendyrward.tumblr.com/

I started this but did not finish it. It did not command my attention.

In a lot of circumstances, eight isn’t a particularly high number. But according to a new book, the foundation of American cuisine through the centuries can be explored via just eight flavors.

That’s the premise of the aptly-named “Eight Flavors” (Simon & Schuster, $26) by historical gastronomist Sarah Lohman. Subtitled “The Untold Story of American Cuisine,” the book purports to take the reader on a culinary journey across this nation’s food history, from its beginnings all the way to the present day.

Through chapters exploring each of the eight flavors – black pepper, vanilla, curry powder, chili powder, soy sauce, garlic, MSG and Sriracha – Lohman takes note of the impact each had on the development of American food. She worked her way through cookbooks and recipes – some from as far back as the 1700s – in an effort to determine when these assorted culinary mainstays first made the scene in American cookery.

And then she asks why.

We learn how black pepper was once the purview of the wealthy and an incredible valuable commodity that made the fortunes of those who procured and sold it. One of the most fascinating stories in the book is in the vanilla chapter; it’s the tale of a young slave living in Madagascar who stumbled upon a technique for vanilla orchid pollination that is still used today.

Curry powder leads us to Ranji Smile, a self-styled prince whose work with Indian cuisine made him one of America’s very first celebrity chefs. The story of chili powder introduces us to the Chili Queens of San Antonio, whose food introduced the wider world to the now-ubiquitous chili con carne. The soy sauce chapter has a fascinating story too – one that includes the Asian immigration of the 19th century and the development of soy sauce manufacturing here in the United States.

Lohman also attends garlic festivals and tours a California Sriracha factory and goes to great lengths to shoot down the now-dubious claim that many people suffer a poor reaction to MSG – all in an effort to get to the bottom of why these particular flavors have become such key components to the way people eat today.

(It should be noted that Lohman acknowledges that there are actually 10 flavors, but she has removed chocolate and coffee from her list. She asserts – correctly – that plenty of ink has already been spilled exploring the nuances of those two flavors.)

Along the way, Lohman makes a point of experimenting with some of the recipes that she has uncovered. It’s an opportunity to add a level to the reader’s flavor journey – each chapter offers a handful of interesting recipes that showcase its subject flavor. And while Lohman occasionally throws in a tweak or two of her own, she always stays true to the spirit of the recipe, offering glimpses at some of the stages in America’s culinary evolution.

As someone without a deep interest in gastronomic history, I’m not necessarily the target audience for this book. Yet I found myself engaged, caught up in this effort to understand some of the reasons why our food today tastes the way it does. Even people who aren’t interested in making food tend to be interested in eating it – and this book offers a thoughtful window onto the American flavor profile, one that features some tastes so ubiquitous that we may never have even considered their origins.

“Eight Flavors” is the sort of food book that even non-foodies will find fascinating. A lot of that springs from Lohman’s style; while her stories are obviously driven by her quest, her easy prose and obvious passion result in a book that is compelling no matter what your spice rack and pantry might look like.

Bon appetit.