Rules-based cooking is enticing due to its capacity to yield highly reproducible outcomes. FG Trade/Getty Images
Score
C. Thi Nguyen
Allen Lane
Last year, I penned an article for New Scientist detailing how a physicist unveiled the precise method to flawlessly cook the Italian classic, cacio e pepe. The emulsion of black pepper, pecorino cheese, and water can often turn clumpy. Ivan di Terlizzi and his team at the Max Planck Institute for the Physics of Complex Systems experimented with cacio e pepe numerous times to perfect a method that guarantees consistent results.
This topic resonated with many readers. When I recently caught up with one of the scientists involved, he suggested the draw might stem from their research’s ability to unveil order in what can otherwise appear chaotic, especially when examined through the lens of mathematics and precision.
While this perspective is captivating, it also carries risks, as C. Thi Nguyen discusses in his book, Score: How to Stop Playing Someone Else’s Game. Formerly a food critic, Nguyen is now a philosophy professor at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City. He cautions that recipes promising flawless results can obscure the essential values of food as “an exercise of taste and preference.”
By employing scientific rigor—exact measurements and meticulous procedures—the outcomes might be repeatable, but this approach diminishes the diversity of culinary experiences and the delightful chaos that food can represent.
Cooking serves as merely one instance illustrating how modern tendencies to systematize and impose order on chaotic realities—often driven by state bureaucracies—can result in less-than-ideal outcomes. Nguyen constructs a vivid image of a world rife with such consequences.
Using his own academic journey as a reference, Nguyen contends with the rankings that universities and magazines impose. In philosophy, these ratings often derive from websites evaluating departments based on criteria like publishing prestige or scholars’ ability to address specialized queries, contrasting sharply with the “wild, unruly questions” that initially piqued his interest in philosophy. He began to sense a phenomenon he labeled “value capture,” where metrics intended to guide us begin to dictate our actions.
Nguyen argues for embracing these intricate rule-based systems by engaging in games as a means to explore and remain open to life’s experiences. This book encompasses a diverse array of his recreational pursuits, from Dungeons & Dragons to rock climbing, yoga, and yo-yo.
He effectively illustrates why choosing to abide by the rules within a game serves as a “spiritual vaccine” against societal pressures to conform to institutional scoring systems, like those found in educational assessments. While the notion that games can save us may seem optimistic, Nguyen compellingly presents it as a refreshing perspective.
Many of Nguyen’s concepts aren’t groundbreaking, drawing from numerous influential philosophers and scholars shaping his thought process—including Tim Marshall’s Prisoners of Geography, which explains the influence of geography on geopolitics, and James C. Scott’s Seeing Like a State, which scrutinizes the shortcomings of scientifically planned societies.
However, Nguyen’s imaginative approach to discussing the core themes of his book ensures the conversation remains engaging and thought-provoking. This work provides a compelling starting point for further exploration.
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Source: www.newscientist.com
