Edward Smith cooking Watson's recipes. Photograph: Julia Schoenstaedt/Guardian
Watson, IBM's supercomputer, has written a cookbook. Do the unusual ingredient combinations work, or is plum pancetta cider really as disgusting as it sounds?
I'm looking at a recipe for chocolate, apricot and beef burritos with mashed edamame guacamole. This is not Heston on acid. These ideas come from "Watson", IBM's supercomputer whose first cookbook, Cognitive Cooking with Chef Watson, is out this spring. Watson was fed data about foods traditionally enjoyed by humans. The computer was able to learn and find reason behind recipes, taste profiles and chemical compounds, so that it (he?) could suggest new flavour combinations. The resultant ingredient lists were converted to recipes by chefs at the US Institute of Culinary Education, and the publisher promises "unusual ingredient combinations that man alone might never imagine". Intrigued, I got hold of an early copy. So what's it like to cook from?
Much of it is overly cheffy - life's too short to "spherify" a mushroom. Watson does, however, produce some genuinely interesting combinations. I'm taken with the idea of adding marjoram to a blackberry and cherry cobbler, porcini powder to a spiced pumpkin tart and tamarind to a cabbage slaw. Sometimes, he reaffirms classic matches. No doubt the whole of Italy will breathe a sigh of relief when it sees his tomato and mozzarella tart. Phew. There's no such endorsement for tomato, basil and mozzarella, though I spy a dish that has me wondering whether it could replace everyone's fallback summer salad.
Grilled corn and nectarine salad with toasted spice vinaigrette
Burnt, spiced sweetcorn, nectarine, fresh cheese and basil is definitely unusual, though I can see how the components could riff off each other; it's not so far removed from a corn, pineapple and chilli salsa. I coat corn husks in oil, salt and chilli powder, blacken them under the grill and mix the result in a dressing of cumin, ground coriander, lemon and chilli sauce. Nectarine slices and basil leaves are added, and it's all topped with crumbled paneer. The finished article is decent enough and looks pretty, but ... it's a bit meh. Basil doesn't stand up to the other flavours as coriander, a more obvious herb, would. The spiced dressing doesn't make the salad sing as a simple squeeze of lime might, and it needs something salty. Air-dried ham, perhaps. My mind is resolutely unblown.
3/5
Kenyan brussels sprouts
It's good, though I add a drop or two of lemon juice to lift it. Sprouts are halved, blanched, drained and deep-fried until crisp. As they cool, I dust them with two teaspoons of cardamom powder and one of ginger. To finish, they sit on a sweet potato puree packed with fresh ginger, garlic and celery, and are sprinkled with a gremolata of sorts - minced garlic, finely chopped almonds, parsley and celery leaves. The result? It's a winner. On their own, the crisp, spice-coated sprouts are extremely moreish. It turns out that the blend of slightly metallic brassica, floral, soapy cardamom and fragrant ground ginger is legit. Moreover, their combination with the fresh ginger and garlic-heavy root vegetable puree makes this a very strong dish. Chef Watson, I'll make this again.
4.5/5
American kung pao chicken
Many recipes in the book fuse cuisines that don't traditionally match. Picture, if you can, Thai Jewish chicken, Thai Vietnamese poutine, Swiss Thai quiche (I know, right?). This stir-fry combination is like nothing I've seen before. Pork, chicken, soy sauce, chilli (so far, so good) mingle with bay, sage, rosemary, poppy seeds, cucumber, sugar snaps, corn, dates, beetroot. I'd never mix all these things together. So, obviously, I give it a go. An eight-hour brine and four-hour braise, using rosemary, sage and maple syrup, results in delicious cubes of meat that brown beautifully in a wok while remaining soft, succulent and flavoursome inside. The method for cooking chicken thighs is super, too: fry skin-side down until golden, flip, add the chilli, herb and pig-infused stock and slowly steam until tender. But then those meats are stir-fried with the other ingredients and dotted with cold balls of cantaloupe melon. My reaction isn't as strong as my girlfriend's: "That's [censored] disgusting." But the result is very definitely odd, and less than the sum of its parts. The name "kung pao chicken" is snappy, but wrong. It's more "hungry single white man empties contents of mother's larder into wok. Adds soy sauce." I'm afraid, if you've not guessed already, this one is a fail.
1/5
Plum pancetta cider
Watson often matches classic dessert ingredients with dried mushroom powder. I guess this is packed with umami, so makes a natural alternative to MSG. One for Yotam Ottolenghi's next cookbook, perhaps? But I don't have any, so I decide to finish the testing process with a stiff drink. I'm not convinced, though, by my glass of "plum pancetta cider". We know that plum and sake work; pork and apple, too. Together, though? Do I really want bacon in my digestif? This drink involves rendering the fat from pancetta and infusing cider with it overnight. The next day, remove the coagulated fat (mmm) through a coffee filter, mulch plum, sake and sugar syrup together, add a squeeze of lemon and ice, and garnish with orange peel and crisp pancetta. It tasted a bit like the dregs of a cider glass, the morning after the night before.
0/5
So that's one success, one maybe, and two nice tries, but no thanks. IBM's experiment with Watson has real value - they are essentially creating a smart database of food types, which is exactly what Ferran Adria is planning with Bullipedia. But, in the end, there is nothing quite like experience, a bit of travel and a touch of human intuition. Nigel Slater is safe. For now.
