Scientific American: "Equations Are Art inside a Mathematician’s Brain"

"When mathematicians describe equations as beautiful, they are not lying. Brain scans show that their minds respond to beautiful equations in the same way other people respond to great paintings or masterful music. The finding could bring neuroscientists closer to understanding the neural basis of beauty, a concept that is surprisingly hard to define."

In the study, researchers led by Semir Zeki of University College London asked 16 mathematicians to rate 60 equations on a scale ranging from "ugly" to "beautiful." Two weeks later, the mathematicians viewed the same equations and rated them again while lying inside a functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) scanner. The scientists found that the more beautiful an equation was to the mathematician, the more activity his or her brain showed in an area called the A1 field of the medial orbitofrontal cortex.

Skipping down to the last three paragraphs...

The study found, for example, that the beauty of equations is not entirely subjective. Most of the mathematicians agreed on which equations were beautiful and which were ugly, with Euler's identity, 1+eiπ=0, consistently rated the most attractive equation in the lot. "Here are these three fundamental numbers, e, pi and i," Adams says, "all defined independently and all critically important in their own way, and suddenly you have this relationship between them encompassed in this equation that has a grand total of seven symbols in it? It is dumbfounding."

On the bottom of the heap, mathematicians consistently rated Srinivasa Ramanujan's infinite series for 1/π most ugly.

"It doesn't sing," Adams says. "I look at it, and I don't learn anything new about pi. And those numbers, 26,390? 9801? As far as I am concerned, you could switch in other numbers, and I couldn't tell the difference."

Scientific American

Untitled (King and Queen)

 Evan Izer, Untitled (King and Queen). 2005-2008.
10" x 12".
Lapis Lazuli, carbonized ivory, gamboge resin, mercury sulfide, 
hydroxypropylcellulose, calf skin vellum, Hiromi washi, cotton-rag paper.

Two Drug Addicts On The Subway After A Fix

Evan Izer. Two Drug Addicts On The Subway After A Fix, 2013
Ink, gouache paint & crayon on laid paper

Due to financial considerations, my "Sketchbook" website is down, so I thought I'd post some drawings here until I get things running again.

I used to love to draw pictures of people that I saw when riding the subway in New York City. My usual practice was to make the drawing in a small sketchbook as quickly and furtively as I could, using a mechanical pencil or sometimes an ink brush pen. I would later choose the best of these sketches and work them up in other media when I was back in my workshop.

I usually chose subjects based upon extremity of appearance— extreme beauty or extremity of another sort. The two people depicted in this drawing had the paralytic flush of people who just shot up. They remained like this— eyes rolling underneath closed eyelids, mouths gaping, slow-motion twitching— for the entirety of my 25-minute ride.

Hey Hey Hey, The End Is Near!

Here's my lovely friend Tim , performing Joanna Newsom's song, "On A Good Day", over a period of 18 hours. I did editing and post-production work on the video.

Red, White, Blue

Last night, Palladian was asking about neutrons in the context of blue which naturally led to a late night discussion of how neutrons protect us from being blown up.

Here's a story of another color -- red -- including explosions, isotopes, unpaired electrons, and radioactivity.

Instead Of Arguing About Race, Let's Talk About Neutron Stars...

Evan Izer. Geminga, 2011
19th-century laundry bluing, inks, gouache &
watercolor paint, 24k gold leaf on Arches paper

... or art, or gold, or laundry bluing. This is a painting I made several years ago, named after a neutron star which, unlike tired old concepts like "race", are scientifically proven to exist and, also unlike "race", are interesting to talk about.

Or you can talk about art, or anything you want, really.

If you're interested in looking at more of my work, I have a lot of drawings posted online. And since I asked you to look at my work, I promise not to insult you or call you names. It's the least I can do.

Palladian sent me a dirty picture

So I framed it.

Don't Cry Over Spilt Nog

This wretched holiday is soon ended...

Devils On Horseback

Detail of medieval stained glass from Sainte-Chapelle de Paris,
now at the Musée National du Moyen Âge, Paris

No, no, not that kind of Devil on horseback! These:

... wonderful little savory-salty-sweet-smoky hors d'oeuvres that go great with cocktails, as party tidbits or as appetizers. They're often only prunes (or dates) wrapped in bacon, but I got the idea (from Jennifer Paterson) to stuff in a bit of chicken liver which I think makes them more interesting. I've no idea why they're called Devils on Horseback— there's another, similar dish called Angels on Horseback, which is an oyster wrapped in bacon, skewered and cooked. If you wish to be gastronomically and religiously ecumenical, you could serve both culinary equestrians, Godly and Satanic, together.

Devils On Horseback

Ingredients:

• chicken livers
• about 2 tablespoons butter
• Cayenne pepper
• salt
• medium-size pitted prunes
• about 2 cups Sercial or Rainwater Madeira, Tawny Port, or brewed black tea
• good-quality sliced smoked bacon
• toothpicks or small wooden or bamboo skewers
• A baking tray, lined with aluminum foil for convenience

Soak the prunes in the Madeira, Port or tea for at least an hour, or up to 24 hours, then drain and dry the prunes slightly with paper towels. If you've used Madeira or Port, don't throw it away after the soak— drink it! The pruny nuance is delicious.

About 30 minutes before you plan to cook the Devils, put the toothpicks or skewers in a little bowl of water to soak; this helps prevent them burning in the oven.

Preheat oven to 450º F.

Trim the chicken livers, removing any membrane that's still attached, then dry them with paper towels. Melt the butter in a sauté pan over medium high heat. Gently sauté the livers on both sides for a few minutes. Do not overcook. The livers should be firmed but still quite pink inside; overcooked livers are crumbly, dry and terrible to eat. Remove the cooked livers to a cutting board and slice them into pieces that will fit inside a prune. Sprinkle the liver pieces with the Cayenne pepper and a little salt.

Take a soaked prune and stuff it with a piece of liver. Flatten out a piece of bacon and cut it in half, then roll one of the halves firmly 'round the stuffed prune. Pierce the whole thing with one of the soaked toothpicks, then place it on the baking tray. Repeat this process until all the prunes are stuffed, wrapped and pierced and placed on the tray, about 1.5 inches apart.

Put the baking tray into the preheated oven and cook for about 7-9 minutes, then carefully flip each Devil over using tongs. Place the tray back into the oven for about another 7-9 minutes, until the bacon is cooked, crisped and a bit browned.

Serve hot.

Peace

Peace, 2001. Evan Izer & Alice Wu.
Gelatin-silver print, 11" x 14", edition of 5.
© Evan Izer & Alice Wu

This artwork came about as the result of a dream of myself as a fat John Lennon.

Made in collaboration with my brilliant and beautiful friend Alice Wu in 2001 in New Haven, Connecticut.

Rest in peace, John, 33 years later.

And so, dear friends, you'll just have to carry on. The dream is over....

Scotch Eggs

I first tasted Scotch eggs, I'm a bit ashamed to admit, at a Renaissance fair(e) when I was a teenager in the early 1990s. I recall that the eggs were better than the turkey leg(ges), but when your strongest memory of the time is of wearing robes and arguing with a community theater actor portraying Sir Francis Walsingham about why there is so much medievalism at a purported "Renaissance" fair(e), it's perhaps best to discount any recollection of culinary opinion.

Since that dim and distant time, I've eaten Scotch eggs in the UK and the US, freshly- (and not-so-freshly) made. Like many a simple dish, this one is frequently ruined by poor ingredients and careless preparation: rubbery eggs with greenish-grey haloes 'round chalky yolks — grainy, overcooked sausage meat — boxed breadcrumbs — a poverty of spices… all rolled together and dropped like a stone into the murky, rancid depths of a deep fat fryer. I suppose that the reason people are so forgiving of these gastronomic atrocities is because they're often quite intoxicated when they order and eat bad Scotch eggs— the "beer goggles" phenomenon seems to occur when drunkenly choosing food as often as it does when drunkenly choosing sex partners. What appears a succulent, flavorful and appetizing morsel in the dim light of the bar does not always seem so fresh in the harsh light of the morning.

Of course, Scotch eggs can be a delicious dish— whether they're served with drinks, or at a picnic, or for breakfast or lunch— what's important is to use the best ingredients you can find and to prepare the dish carefully. Here's my recipe:

Ingredients:

• 10 extra-large eggs
• 1 pound loose sausage meat
• 2.5 cups fresh breadcrumbs (see procedure below)
• 6 anchovy fillets, minced
• 1 tbsp Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce
• 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/8 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 tsp freshly-ground black pepper
• salt to taste (about 2 tsp)
• about 1/2 cup clarified butter and/or meat drippings, or peanut oil

Equipment:

• A saucepan with a tight-fitting lid
• A large bowl filled with cold water and ice cubes
• A large mixing bowl
• A sauté or frying pan with steep sides.

Beat two of the eggs in a bowl and set aside.

To perfectly cook the remaining 8 eggs: Take each egg and, using a pushpin, thumbtack or straight pin, pierce a small hole in the larger end of the egg; this prevents the eggs from cracking when they're cooked. Gently place the eggs into the saucepan and cover them (by about an inch) with cool water. Set the pan on the stove and bring the water to a boil, then immediately cover the pan and remove it from the heat. Let the eggs sit in the covered pan for exactly 10 minutes, then drain out the hot water. Swish or bounce the eggs around in the empty pan until they're all cracked, then drop them into the bowl of ice water. Allow the eggs to stand in the ice water until they're thoroughly chilled (about 10-15 minutes) then carefully peel the eggs under running tap water. Peeling eggs is hit-or-miss; very fresh eggs don't peel as well as do slightly older eggs... but if they're too old, they'll be misshapen due to the expanding of the air space in the shell. Don't despair if the whites of some of the eggs get a bit shredded, this recipe doesn't require perfectly-peeled cooked eggs with flawless surfaces.

You must use fresh breadcrumbs in this recipe. If you've never made them before, here's the procedure: cut a loaf of good, close-grained white bread (such as my pain de mie) into medium-thick slices and put them onto a tray or baking sheet into in a 250º F oven for about 20 minutes, until they're dry-ish but not browned. Break up the slices a bit, then whizz them in a food processor or blender until they're medium-finely ground, with no greatly outsized chunks of bread left.

Put the sausage meat into the large mixing bowl, then add 2 cups of the breadcrumbs, about three-quarters of the beaten eggs, the minced anchovy fillets, the Worcestershire sauce, the ground spices and the salt & pepper. Mix everything up very thoroughly with your impeccably-clean hands.

Take a peeled, cooked egg and dip it into the remaining bit of beaten egg, then form some of the meat mixture (about 1/2 to 3/4 cup of meat per egg) around it, so that the cooked egg is completely covered with a tight layer of meat of an even thickness. This takes a bit of practice but you'll get the hang of it. Repeat the process until all of your cooked eggs are encased in the meat mixture. Set each onto a plate as you finish preparing them.

Heat the clarified butter/drippings/oil in the sauté pan over medium high heat. Roll each meat-encased egg in the remaining 1/2 cup of breadcrumbs and then put it into the sauté pan. Don't crowd the pan— depending upon the size of your pan, you may need to do this in two batches. Gently fry the Scotch eggs on all sides, until each is a uniform brown color; this will take about 8-10 minutes per batch. Sprinkle the cooked eggs with a little kosher salt.

Serve the eggs warm or cold, on a plate or wrapped in a napkin, accompanied perhaps by good mustard, Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce, or even a good meat gravy. And, of course, a nice strong drink.

Mineral Waters

Here's an advertisement I found in the front of The Useful Family Herbal by John Hill, M.D., printed in 1770. Mineral Waters! If you're interested in any of these esoteric waters, you can read a contemporary account, The Methodical Synopsis Of Mineral Waters, by John Rutty, M.D. You can also read "Dr. Russel's Dissertation on the Use of the Sea-Water, with Dr. Speed's Commentary" that's mentioned in the ad. A few of the waters are still bottled and sold.

Interestingly, William Owen, bookseller and mineral water salesman, was also the publisher of Mr Hill's book in which this advertisement appears. This is the only time I can recall a publisher of that era advertising his side business in one of his own publications.

Further research into William Owen reveals that he was charged with libel against the House of Commons and the King's Bench in 1752, for printing a pamphlet which the attorney-general called "wicked, false, scandalous, seditious, and malicious libel".

An account of two trials, including William Owen's trial, was published in 1765 by J. Almon. The Owen section of the pamphlet begins with this:

and to what, you may ask, does that asterisk refer? To this, at the bottom of the page:

 Well played. A toast, to Mr William Owen, with the mineral water of your choice.

A Pleasant Sallet: Celery Rémoulade

Celery Rémoulade, also known as céleri-rave rémoulade or celeriac salad, is a delicious and simple salad made from a julienne of celeriac. Celeriac, also (incorrectly) known as celery root, is a brownish, lumpy, tuberous-looking thing, about the size of a large turnip, that has ivory-colored flesh with a mild celery flavor that’s a bit like a cross between a potato and celery. Although called a root, it’s actually the hypocotyl storage organ of a variety of celery, Apium graveolens var. rapaceum; ordinary celery is Apium graveolens var. dulce.

It took me a while to locate celery in European culinary history, since it was barely eaten at all in much of Europe until the late 17th century, and it wasn’t called celery, but elioselinon (a transliteration of its Greek name), marsh parsley (it is in the same botanical family, Apiaceae, as parsley), and smallage, which seems to be the most common English name for celery before the word celery came along. Celery, by one or another of its names, appears in various European herbals and botanical books from the 16th century on. It doesn’t seem to have been very highly regarded by early writers, with various sources calling it bitter and strong in flavor.

From Botanologia, the English herbal
by William Salmon, 1710

William Salmon, one such early botanical writer, was a mysterious self-taught surgeon, astrologer and general dilettante who wrote and/or plagiarized a number of books in the 17th- and early 18th centuries. I own a 17th century copy of one of his books, entitled Polygraphice, which is nominally a manual of drawing, painting, and the visual arts, but which also explores such divers subjects as chiromancy, perfumery, cosmetics and transmuting mercury into purest gold. Salmon also published an extensive illustrated herbal in 1710 in which smallage is described. Interestingly, Salmon includes a recipe for preparing a celery root salad:

The Sallet of the Whited Stalks and Roots. They are cut or sliced and eaten with Salt, Vinegar and Oil, raw, they make a pleasant Sallet, are grateful to the Palate and Taste, strengthen the Stomach, and cause a good Appetite and Digestion.

Primordial Soup

Our always-brilliant friend El Pollo Raylan wrote in his most recent post:

Lastly, Lem posted an intriguing story about life on other planets. I think the unspoken question is, "but did they have the spark of life?"  I'm not being creationist here. The famous Miller-Urey Experiment was anything but that.

This reminded me of one of my most favorite little digressions from one of my favorite people, the great writer, cook and personality Julia Child. This video, produced for a 1970's exhibit at the National Air and Space Museum called "Life in the Universe", features Child cooking up Miller & Urey's (and Cyril Ponnamperuma's) recipe for Primordial Soup.

Sleeping Dogs Never Lie

Maggie, 2013

Kasha Varnishkes

Kasha Varnishkes is an Ashkenazi Jewish recipe that originated in Eastern Europe. Kasha, in case you're not familiar with it, is buckwheat. Buckwheat (Fagopyrum esculentum) is a plant, related to rhubarb & sorrel, whose fruit is used as a food. Even though buckwheat fruit is not an actual cereal grain, it is dried and hulled in the same manner as cereal grains such as wheat (to which buckwheat is unrelated) and rye. The product of this hulling process is called buckwheat groats (no, not the medieval coin groat), or kasha. Kasha can be cooked to make a porridge, just like cereal groats; it's very hearty and healthy and since it's not a grain, is a good fiber-rich, gluten-free food. It has a unique, slightly bitter flavor, like other related plants, and a very chewy texture so you might need to get used to it. Kasha is also a common filling for knishes.

Buckwheat (Fagopyrum esculentum)

Kasha varnishkes was originally little kasha-stuffed dumplings, sort of like Yiddishe ravioli, but since the early 20th century it's usually a blend of kasha and Farfalle pasta. The dish is easy to make, the ingredients can be found in most grocery stores— look for kasha in the "Kosher" or "International Foods" aisle of your supermarket; the most common brand is Wolff's, which comes in a small black and gold box that you can see in the pictures accompanying this recipe. Get the "medium" texture kasha.

First off, you need schmaltz to make this recipe properly. Schmaltz is simply rendered chicken fat. If you live in a town with a good Jewish deli or store, you can buy a container of schmaltz, but it's very easy to make. Click "Read more" below for the technique & the recipe for Kasha Varnishkes.

1967

Evan Izer, 1967, 2013

A Drawing

At 4 A.M.

Evan Izer, Distant skyline (paper negative) , c. 1992

In a dark yard in a sparse town,
under scattered starlight
in September, the rasps
of three cricket's wings
move in and out of phase
above a low, coastal kind of sound
that is not water,
but the hiss of distant tires
washing up and down US 30.

"If I would follow that road, miles north,
it terminates in Times Square,
and I would be home again"
I tell myself.

But distance and time are tangled;
New York, my life, everything,
it all still flickers and glows, faintly
like the scattered stars, lights in dark skies,
whose distant sources may have darkened
and disappeared—
but, for now,
the light still comes.

And then I think of a boat in water,
again in darkness,
navigated, steered,
as they once were,
by the light of stars,
both there and not-there.