For all the right reasons, Hedonism – the pursuit of pleasure – has a long history, with adherents in multiple cultures and over many centuries, one of the most famous of whom was Epicurus. He would be spinning in his grave if he knew that ‘epicurean’ has been adopted to describe limitless indulgence in high-quality eating and drinking experiences. There’s far more to it, but he was a guy who was into simple enjoyment.
I’m sure he preferred his olive oil fresh and peppery from a good grove, his figs ripe off a tree and the occasional lamb chop medium rare, with the flavours of the herby shrubs it grazed. I relate to that, although I can drizzle my olive oil onto tomatoes, which were nearly 2000 years away from being introduced to Greece when he was around. Similarly, I have coffee, which the owner of a small hotel in Denmark once described to me as a basic human right.
After decades of daily consumption of this basic right, two years ago I pretty much gave up coffee, but I’m using my coffee machine as much as ever before. I replaced coffee with a cocoa drink, which certainly takes me higher up the pleasure ladder (it’s all in the name – theobromine, a key component in cocoa, translates as ‘food of the gods’).
The recipe is simple: half a teaspoon of honey and about 25g of cocoa powder mixed in half a mug of boiling water, topped up with steamed milk. I can’t fail to be in a good mood after starting my day like this.
When I’m occasionally separated from my coffee machine, I heat the milk – not to boiling – by whichever means available to me, but the drink is just not as good. This has got me thinking about bubbles. In essence, if air makes such a big difference to the amount of pleasure experienced, it must be regarded as an ingredient. But can air be an ingredient?
Milk that has been steamed using the wand on a coffee machine has been ‘stretched’ by about 15%, turning it into a microfoam. In this form, the milk does two things. Firstly, the mouthfeel becomes creamy, causing the beverage to coat the mouth differently and certainly in a way that delivers more pleasure. Secondly, the popping of bubbles in the mouth has an aerosol effect, transporting aroma to the olfactory receptors in the nasal cavity. What this means is that we get a bigger dose of flavour than we do without the bubbles.
There are numerous other dishes in which air plays a big role. Chocolate ganache and chocolate mousse are made with largely the same ingredients, except that for mousse the cream has been whipped. My cocoa drink is conceptually not dramatically different from these two, which goes some way to explaining the mood benefits!
Zabaglione, essentially just egg yolks, sugar and some form of flavouring, can treble in volume during the extended whipping process. If two-thirds of it is air, does it qualify as diet food?
As a long-term seeker of pleasurable wine, mouthfeel is an element that is close to my heart. For aroma release, a major benefit of bubbles, we need look no further than Champagne (or equivalent). We get the flavour from the liquid, but we get a second dose as the bubbles pop. In fairness, this is CO₂, not air, but the same principles apply. Champagne gives an opportunity to have a look at mouthfeel from a different perspective, in that a slow second fermentation at low temperature (and high pressure) ensures the development of small bubbles, which are key to the pleasure we get from Champagne.
Beers like Guinness are similarly dependent on their bubbles, in this case containing nitrogen, for delivering a pleasurable experience. They are all about their creamy mouthfeel.
We are thankfully beyond the craze of airs and foams. I can’t recall having one that was delicious, although I can’t claim sufficient experience of them to pass judgement. In theory, the bubbles would enable the release of desired flavours, but without the heaviness of a cream-based sauce. For me, it remains theory.
Growing up, ‘airy-fairy’ was about as damning a judgement of someone as I heard from the adults around me. ‘Frothy’ has similar implications of lack of substance or superficiality. Yes, bubbles are transient, but that doesn’t make them any less concrete as a source of pleasure when we’re eating and drinking.
Looking at the different versions of hedonist philosophy, there is a sense of ineffability that isn’t far removed from the intangibility of gases briefly trapped in bubbles. I wouldn’t go so far as saying it’s airy-fairy, but I’d rather be experiencing pleasure than debating it. And don’t hold the bubbles!