Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published August , 2007 Crust Denied It had to happen. Things like it have happened before. For example, I'll never forget the day that a chef (now gone from town) told me, "One day, I'm going to talk the people in this town out their insane love of hot bread!" He pronounced "hot bread" with disdain. Not long ago, a chef who I will not name said, "I don't know why, but people seem to have this idea that having a crust of some kind on food is good." He was defending his use of the currently-hip method of poaching fish and other foods in butter. Which makes them come out soft, smooth, crustless, and (in my opinion) really, really boring. "I know why people think crusty food is good," I said. "It's because it is good." He scoffed. One of the first attractions of great cooking that moved me to spend the time, thought, and cash I have looking for more of it is crustiness. The first time it thrilled me consciously when a chef served me broiled redfish. It wasn't overcooked, yet it was crispy here and there around the edges. This was in the days before blackened redfish brought this concept to a crescendo. In one of my earliest restaurant reviews went on in luscious detail about the crustiness the old Steak Pit managed to apply to its famous $1.55 chopped sirloin steak. Even when cooked medium rare, this thing managed to have an almost hard exterior that put it in a class by itself. The thrill of the crust is the contrast it provides with what's underneath it. Contrast, in my way of thinking, is the most powerful tool in the arsenal of any artist. It's not essential, but it sure livens up your work. I don't think everything ought to have a crust. Sometimes the crust makes it worse. I think creme brulee is not quite as good as a great creme caramel, mainly because of the former's crust. Rotisserie chicken with a crust is all wrong. I love poached fish, which is crustless. But when a crust is in the right place at the right time, nothing lends more satisfaction. A duck with a crisp skin. Fried catfish with a crackly cornmeal crust. A steak cooked rare and juicy, but with a dark, nearly charred exterior. We may have to defend crust if chefs begin to eschew crustiness, in answer to their overwhelming imperative to be innovative, no matter what the sacrifice in good taste. © 2007 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com