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1990-99

< back In the early '90s, under the supervision of personal trainers who looked like the Michelin Man, we ran nowhere on treadmills, bicycled hundreds of thousands of miles while watching TV and climbed enough steps to reach the moon.

At the same time, manufacturers found ways to make everything reduced fat, low fat or fat-free — even fat. What foodie can forget where he was when he heard that Olestra, the new nonfat fat, was on its way to market? But try as we might, most of us didn't lose weight. We fooled ourselves into believing that because we were eating low-fat foods we could guiltlessly binge.

Instead of exercising ourselves senseless at the gym, the more moderate among us loosened our belts a notch and began partaking of naturally healthy cuisines, most notably Pacific Rim and Mediterranean. Diners delighted over such fruits de mer as Poached Monkfish With Fennel, Salmon Tartare and Grilled Sea Bass. Sushi and sashimi remained favorites — not as a show of status, as they were in the '80s, but instead as a matter of taste.

Northern Italy also continued to hold sway over American palates, yet unlike in earlier decades, its food became more distinctly regional. Countless variations of polenta, focaccia, and tiramisu captured our imagination. In fact, it was possible to eat nothing but bruschetta and never exhaust the subtle regional differences.

Inspired by the availability of these foreign foods, chefs began combining cuisines in a trend known as fusion cooking. Coconut broth and tortellini were paired with basil and steamed littleneck clams, and the results were dazzling. In an attempt to highlight these unions, anything distracting was removed so all that was left were unadulterated flavors. It was a return to simplicity, promoted by Waters two decades earlier. "We began finding our way in the '70s, got outrageous in the '80s and when we became confident [in the '90s], we went back to simplicity," summarizes Barnard.

Pure flavors ruled, and the more intense, the better. Take Vongerichten's Warm, Soft Chocolate Cake. This ambrosial minicake is absolute chocolate in two forms: a warm, molten center surrounded by a tender, protective shell. Despite its intensity, however, it has nothing of the heaviness of Mississippi Mud Pie or the ubiquitous flourless chocolate cake. Perhaps that's why it's one of the most copied desserts in American restaurants.

The movement toward simplicity and paring down also found its way into the home. Powered by the domestic juggernaut Martha Stewart, "cocooning"–-the turning homeward to nest with family and friends — began. We couldn't get enough of good things like canning, cherry pie and handmade wrapping paper.

As priorities shifted, we began carving out more time for herb gardening, PTA meetings and — arguably one of the most revolutionary cooking tools ever — the Internet.

With the World Wide Web we now had instant access to millions of recipes from around the globe. Want to make Filet Mignon With Mustard Port Sauce and Red Onion Confit? (Our tastes had once again turned toward the luxurious, owing to a booming end-of-the-century economy.) Double-click Epicurious.com and dinner's nearly ready. Confused about which cookbook to buy? Consult Amazon.com. There you'll find plenty of reviews from the newest breed of critics–-savvy consumers. If it's encouragement you need, stop by one of the thousands of online newsgroups for a chat.

Waiting out these last days of the waning century, one naturally becomes reflective — that is, if you were old enough to be born, as Brenner puts it, B.C. — "Before Child." So much has happened since Julia began flickering on TV screens in 1963; so much more since the turn of the century. But mixed with nostalgia is curiosity about the future. What's next? What will a person sitting in your kitchen 100 years from now, reading this paper electronically for sure, be eating?

Hmmm.

Recipe
Warm, Soft Chocolate Cake

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