The art of menus

There is, of course, no endeavour, no craft, no profession, no trade that neglects to ‘reflect society’. This is a commonplace. The collective narcissism of considerate builders, for instance, claims that hod carriers and brickwork reflect society. The contention of Menu Design in Europe is kindred. Graphic artists, restaurateurs, decorators and chefs have, through two centuries, expanded their capabilities according to the milieux in which they have practised. Menus are, then, not merely functional lists, they are self-advertisements, exhibitions, seductions and, occasionally, desirable objects that are apparently collectible.

Indeed this book has the unmistakable feel of an obsessive’s scrapbook, a completist’s trophy. The completist in question is Taschen’s California editor Jim Heimann. The majority of the images in this 450-page blunt weapon are from his collection. He also collects non-specific Americana: surfing memorabilia, toys, photos of googie roadside architecture, advertising ephemera (which ceases to be ephemeral once his curatorial hand has granted it everlastingness). There is not much writing here. Heimann is largely mute. However, the startlingly prolific design journalist and historian of typography Steven Heller provides a brief introduction. It begins off-puttingly:

Hungry? Crave variety? Try Europe! Europe is arguably the largest food court in the world. Comprising haute cuisine and common repast – most of it delicious – the continent is a mecca for star chefs and a cornucopia of gustatory delights. One might say that Europe is an immense smorgasbord-cum-moveable-feast, continuously changing its fare…

One might indeed but one might, equally, choose not to adopt the gee-whizz jocularity of easily impressed American food ‘writers’. He concludes: ‘A beautiful menu will not make a dish taste better, but it will make the dining experience a total experience.’ That total experience will make me wince.