Michael Pollan was born in Long Island, NY in 1955. After studying English literature and receiving a Master's degree in the subject from Columbia University, he began writing for and editing some of America's most notable magazines, including Harper's and the New York Times Magazine. During the beginning of his career, Pollan also wrote books on botany and natural history.
In 2006, Michael Pollan published The Omnivore's Dilemma, an investigation of America's industrial food chain. The book quickly became an international bestseller, making Pollan an authority on the subject. Two years later, he published In Defense of Food, a follow-up to his previous book, in which he seeks to answer the question: what should one eat? To simplify things further, Pollan boiled down his research and reflections into 64 rules for eating well. Published earlier this year, Food Rules is a manual for navigating the stormy seas of food, health and pleasure.
Below, Pollan responds to a few of questions posed by Massimiliano and Raffaele Alajmo.
What do you look for in food?
I look for honesty-- food that is made with conviction, without pretension, and ideally is a fair reflection of the place and traditions that produced it. Wine is not the only thing that, at its best, posses terroir.
If you were to distill Italian flavor, what would separate out?
At the base there would be extra virgin olive oil, maybe also wild fennel.
Let's say that you are in Tuscany and go to a restaurant with the intention of ordering a bistecca fiorentina. You learn that the restaurant imports its meat from Argentina because the chef was unable to find a source for happy, healthy Chianina. What's your reaction? How far should someone go to find quality meat that is raised the right way?
Disappointment, but I might still have the steak if the chef thought it was good. We have to compromise, and being a good guest represents a supreme ethical value too.
Memory and imagination are invisible ingredients.
How much influence can they have on someone's sensorial perception of a dish?
Tremendous. Our sense of taste is not just a matter of chemicals dancing on the tongue; it passes through our minds and memories, and the stories of our foods powerfully inflect their flavor. The knowledge that the steak I'm eating comes from an animal who never set foot on a feedlot, and spent its life on grass, seasons that meat as strongly as the pepper, salt or gremolata or whatever else we bring to it.
What rule would you add to your latest book knowing that a chef or restaurateur was going to read it?
Conviction is more important than novelty. Don't be afraid to be unoriginal.