Rendang and the culinary views of Ali-Bab

Ali-Bab was no relative of that legendary Ali Baba. It was the pseudonym of a man called Henri Babinsky, a well travelled French mining engineer of Polish descent, who at the age of 51, about ninety years ago, surprised the world with a major work on culinary matters called “Gastronomie Practique”. A lady named Elizabeth Benson translated this astonishing treatise into English in 1974 and called it “Practical Gastronomy.”
The American food writer Graig Clayborne wrote about Henri’s work: “Considering that Ali-Bab was not an archaeologist, historian or anthropologist and strictly erudite on these matters, it is amazing that he was able to write a short history of cuisine which even these days is very interesting and readable.” Some may like to dispute Ali-Bab observations. Especially those that deal with the cooking of different countries are often unkind, it seems, but we must not forget that he wrote it at the beginning of this century and that mass tourism had not been able to change strictly regional cooking.
The very first sentence of the book of Mr. Babinsky is characteristic for the style of his opinionated writing. He says: “Man did not really rise above animals until he learned how to use fire.” One may quarrel with this statement because it would in the first place presume that we have risen above animals, which is a matter of opinion, and secondly that anybody living on “cruditiés”, like salads, thurian and steak tartar, is inferior. It also implies that pyromaniacs are divine.
The writer says that our early ancestors originally lived on fruit, grasses and roots. “Later on,” he writes, “their descendants began to taste insects and shell fish and then meat which they ate raw.” Once, conceivably after a forest fire, they learned to appreciate the delicious flavour of roasted meat and the art of hallowing fire became the exclusive domain of priests who appointed themselves its custodians. Sacrificial victims were roasted and consequently eaten. “They were therefore the first cooks and the first gourmets. Their spiritual descendants owe them a great debt.”
In the same fashion Ali-Bab maintains that cannibals in Africa informed him that human flesh tasted very much like pork and that a Negro tasted much better that a white man whose meat is rather bland. “This also seems to be the opinion of a Bengal tiger,” he writes, “who has a certain expertise in the matter, and who - having the choice between a white man and a Hindu - never hesitates to take the latter. This is one of the reasons why Europeans always take Hindus along with them on tiger hunt.”
Ali-Bab’s description of the history of cooking goes from the earliest times of the mammoth hunt via the kitchens of the ancient people in the Middle East, Egypt, Greece, Rome and so forth, up to the time of writing. Arriving at the point of the barbarian invasions of the Roman Empire, he writes: “The odour of the Roman orgies spread far and wide and finally attracted the barbarians whose invasions lasted nearly three centuries and plunged ancient civilisation - which was dying of indigestion – into darkness.” This bold statement is actually not far off the mark. The modern theory is that the fall of the Roman Empire was among other causes due to lead poisoning. The wealthy ruling class had water pipes installed made of lead; and grape juice, to delude their wine, was kept in lead containers. The results were the classic complaints one reads about in the history books on the subject, headaches, loss of appetite, lack of energy and impotence.
Once Ali-Bab gets to his own time it is of course the French cuisine which gets most of his attention and praise, but being a well travelled man he also describes the cooking from other European countries. He approves of the Italian cooks and calls pasta the triumph of Italian cuisine. He also mentions that it is such a pity that the Italians have poor quality fowls and red meat which is the reason, according to him, that so many of their dishes contain chopped meat.
Spain does not get the kind treatment he bestows on Italy. “Spain,” he says, “is a lovely country but as for its cuisine, the less said the better.” The writer is a little better disposed to the British. He praises their beef, mutton, pork, sole and oysters but he laments the fact that they don’t seem to know what to do with these excellent viands. “The inferiority of British cooking,” he writes, “manifests itself in its sauces and ragouts. The English use too many aromatic herbs, condiments and pickles.”
About the Germans he writes, “Ach! Their cuisine lacks finesse and is only suitable for stomachs accustomed to drinking great quantities of beer.” He admits, however, that their beer is of excellent quality and world famous. He also praises the Rhine wines and says that they have a most original bouquet and that is for a Frenchman a most quite a thing to admit.
The poor Norwegians can’t do any good in Ali-Bab’s opinion. His critique is devastating. “As to the Norwegian cuisine,” he writes, “it simply does not exist. In Norway one hardly ever finds anything else but fish – and then mostly salmon. Salmon grilled, smoked or boiled is excellent but one soon tires of it. What is put on the table,” he says, “is salmon in sweet gelatine.” He ends with the lament: “It is dreadful!”
Poor Norwegians. If he still would be alive, they should either invite him for a return visit or assassinate the man.
It is obvious that Henri Babinsky never visited the Orient and so could not comment on the delicious foods of China, Japan and Southeast Asia. I will make up for that and give you a recipe for one of its most famous dishes, “Rendang”.