A Present of the Past

The Venerable Mortar and Pestle, Still a Workhorse

If sticky toffee is the new tiramisu, the mortar and pestle is the new Microplane grater. It's one of the oldest cooking utensils known, but thanks in part to television chefs such as Jamie Oliver and Nigella Lawson, it's achieving a new cachet, connecting us to our past and to one another in the global kitchen.

No other utensil has been embraced so pervasively, crossing culture, time and even social stratas.

Always a duo act, the mortar is the bowl and the pestle the little bat used to press, grind or pound food against the mortar's bottom and sides. With a name that stems from the Latin "mortarium" (receptacle for pounding) and "pistillum" (pounder), the mortar and pestle is ancient in origin and probably was the precursor to millers' grinding stones.

The tools appear in art as early as 6,000 years ago, in Mexican and Thai cuisine of the 13th century, and in Italian frescoes of the 1400s. Given that pulverization is a basic treatment for a plethora of substances, an impressive variety of other trades and crafts, such as pharmacy and perfume making, have relied on mortars and pestles.

When you pick up a mortar and pestle, particularly a vintage one, you are holding history in your hands -- and the best-kept secret to the most vibrantly flavored food anyone could concoct.

Why bother with a mortar and pestle when there are chef's knives, food processors, blenders and garlic crushers to do the job? Bereft of switches, timers, buttons, digital regalia and whatnot, a mortar and pestle is the anti-appliance. But this kitchen workhorse, a model of design brilliance, might be the best gift you give or get this holiday season. You can pulverize bittersweet chocolate, cocoa nibs, cinnamon sticks, garlic, coffee beans, hot chili peppers, black peppercorns, star anise, almonds, citrus zest, vanilla beans and more into sublime sweet and savory oblivion.

Nothing releases as much flavor so expediently. Pounding first bruises garlic, then extracts and distributes its flavor in a way no other method can. If your mortar and pestle is big enough, you can even make a whole vinaigrette in it, with the pulverized garlic more receptive to herbs, salt, pepper and oil. And if you like what it does with garlic, try it with the combination of lemon peel and salt, or throw a vanilla bean and sugar into the mortar and see two simple elements become ambrosia for your next cup of Earl Grey.

As a baker, I pride myself on owning state-of-the-art tools and equipment. But when I switch over to the savory side of my cooking persona, I don't want speed, motors or gimmicks. I want the best flavor, and I want to be viscerally connected to the food. Within that blur of multi-tasking that the holidays seem to court, time with the mortar and pestle morphs into an oasis of calm.

Ironically, even as mortars and pestles pull you to the past, they engage you in the present. Using one requires your full attention, keeping you fully centered. As a soul soother, it's up there -- a claim no blender will ever contest.

If the prospect of such a kitchen tonic doesn't beguile you, consider this. You know those helpful people who are more benevolent than adept in the kitchen who ask to help just as you are about to serve 20 at a sit-down holiday dinner? You want to be gracious but are in a dither as the meal deadline approaches. Plunk a mortar and pestle in their hands, along with a few bulbs of garlic. It will keep them busy and out of your way. They, too, will discover a magic that is simultaneously back in the day and so very of the moment.

Marcy Goldman is a Montreal-based pastry chef/baker, writer and cookbook author. She can be reached through her Web site,http://www.betterbaking.com.