Saveur August/September 2017

This magazine is edited for people interested in food. It explores the authentic cuisines of the world, tracks recipes and ingredients to their places of origin and illuminates their history, traditions and local flavors. It includes all aspects of the world of food including eating, cooking and reading. In addition, it contains informative news about the latest in culinary trends, kitchen tips and techniques and a calendar of culinary events.

United States
Bonnier Corporation
6 期号


there’s a taste i can’t get out of my head.

Octopus, but octopus cooked in the most peculiar fashion: an arm, neatly curled, first wrapped in corn husks that had previously been buried, baked, and left to ferment underground; then packed in a slurry of nixtamalized cornmeal and roasted slowly in the embers of a wood fire. The process—a marriage of Yucatán tradition and outsider experi mentation—rendered the flesh of the octopus wobbly like a sturdy custard, smoky, disorientingly sweet. You cut in, dragged a bit across a shallow puddle of dzikilpak, an earthy pumpkin seed purée the dusky shade of split-pea green, took a bite, and all conversation halted. It’s a dish I’ll never try again. And neither will anyone else. It was one of the table-quieting tastes encountered, for a short time only, at Noma Mexico, the disappearing jungle restaurant…

to catch a cattle thief

ires crackle over a gravel lot and roll to a stop. A rusty latch clangs loose. And amid the manure and mud of a rural, open-air sale barn—a place where beef and dairy cattle are auctioned—in Stephenville, Texas, a 1,300-pound cow ambles out of a trailer, belly swaying side to side. “See that right there?” Wayne Goodman asks, prodding me in the ribs with his elbow. “That’s your steak in motion.” A slight, spry 60-year-old with fine white hair and robin’segg blue eyes, Goodman is like a character straight out of a Western: He catches cattle thieves for a living. Cow-nabbing is alive and well in Texas, and as one of 30 special rangers with the Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association (TSCRA), Goodman, a former police detective, spends his days tracking down…

artifact: roman bread brander

c. 500–700 c.e. Among the ruins of Pompeii— ancient coins, jewelry, frescoes—a loaf of bread was found. Perfectly preserved by a layer of volcanic ash, the 2,000-year-old loaf was mysteriously etched with an inscription: celer, slave of quintus granius verus. “The ancient Romans made bronze bread stamps, which were used to identify the baker,” says Nathan Myhrvold, scientist and author of Modernist Cuisine. He first learned about the stamps while doing historical research for his latest book, Modernist Bread. Most bread in Rome at the time was baked in community ovens, so customized stamps were used to mark individual families’ and bakeries’ loaves. “Some of it was undoubtedly human pride,” Myhrvold says. “But some of it was legal—if bread was found adulterated, the authorities knew who to punish.” Under Roman law, bread…

eating at the border

The best way to cross the border to Boquillas del Carmen is aboard the Boquillas International Ferry—a $5 round-trip rowboat ride. A village of about 300, Boquillas is on the south side of the Rio Grande, nestled inside Big Bend National Park, which straddles the Mexican-American border. There are signs at border control discouraging swimming, but some tourists wade through the green water on hot days. After September 11, the crossing here closed. Until then, this stretch of border had always been fluid, devoid of checkpoints. Tourists seeking tacos at the town’s single restaurant and tequila at its only bar entered freely, and Boquillas residents could run errands in Rio Grande Village (the nearest Mexican town, Santa Rosa de Múzquiz, is 160 miles away). When the United States sealed this corridor,…

hamsi season

On a bright, brittle January morning in Sinop, Turkey, fishmonger Mert Kanal barked into a headset, “Where are the hamsi?!” Agitated customers milled outside his family’s fish shop and restaurant, Okyanus Balik Evi. They weren’t waiting for the shimmering blue-striped bonito, pink mullet, or gargantuan flounders heaped on the restaurant’s tables. They wanted hamsi—anchovies from the Black Sea that Turks call “the prince of fishes.” Most mornings between October and February, commercial trawlers on this part of the coast disgorge hills of anchovies at the pier. But for almost a week, violent squalls had prevented them from docking. The previous night, the skies had finally cleared. The big boats were back, and crews worked feverishly, loading crates into refrigerated trucks. Sinop residents wanted their share of the catch—and so did “Hamsi…

the strawberry whisperer

rnesto Alpízar didn’t taste a strawberry until after the revolution, when he was 34 and living in Eastern Europe. As a kid in the 1930s, he recalls seeing the fruit from afar in Bauta, the rural village outside Havana where he grew up. A farmer there cultivated them exclusively for wealthy Cubans and expats. Like Coca-Cola and cars, the first strawberries had arrived from the United States in the early 1900s. But the plants didn’t fare well in the tropical climate and remained a rarity. As a young man, Alpízar taught English in high school. After the revolution, he was given the opportunity to study abroad as part of a Castro-sponsored program to train citizens and reward supporters of the revolution. (Alpízar’s father, the head of a baker’s union, had backed…