[From a friend, part of a longer interview with Albini in the LA Record.]

What do you think is your great topic—something you’re endlessly fascinated by?

There’s like a half a dozen things. Generally my areas of interest outside of being in a band are probably cooking, billiards, poker, general superficial scientific interest—nothing academic but at the speed of the Discovery Channel.

Have you ever been to El Bulli?

No, although I have to say—intuitively I’m kind of grossed out by molecular gastronomy. There’s something about the industrial-process element of it that I have a hard time embracing. A lot of the sensations and a lot of the things that happen in molecular gastronomy are inevitably unique because it’s never occurred to anybody to put sea urchin pureé inside of a caramel shell. So of course they’re going to be unique experiences and as an eater, I enjoy unique experiences—I have a very expansive palate. But something about the amount of effort and convolution of the processes that need to occur in order to get to the finished product makes it seem unsatisfying. It makes it seem like that one bite of frozen carrot foam can’t possibly have been worth the three days of preparation and the team of assistants. There is something about that fundamental inefficiency that galls me. It makes it seem grotesque and indulgent and like a gilded toilet or something. I’m in this weird quandary. I would very much like to have that experience—I would very much like to respect it, but it is so indulgent and so reserved for the truly decadent that it’s like boutique heroin. It makes me hate the people who are into it. If there was like a DIY version where people could do it without wasting 90% of the ingredient to get the two drops of salmon essence—if there was a way that it could be made more like normal eating, but still have these unique sensational experiences… If there was a way that it could be made more normal so that it wouldn’t seem so indulgent and pampered and fucking Monopoly money, then I would be into it.

How much of that is what exactly people are paying for?

I don’t know. There are a couple of restaurants like that in Chicago that have these things like laser-grilled packing peanuts, but I’ve never eaten at any of them. I have friends who have and they truly enjoy the experience and say that they were breathtaking, memorable, life-changing meals. I believe them, but there’s something grotesque about it that makes me—in the weakest part of my personality, the reactionary part of my personality—makes me hate my friends a little bit for that. It makes me think that they’re creepy and I don’t like feeling that way about my friends. Because these are the same friends that can go to the ballpark with me and have some churros and a hot dog and enjoy that. They’re the same friends that appreciate the things that I do, like a fresh peach. What the hell is wrong with a fresh peach? It’s thirty cents and it’s awesome. So I don’t like feeling that way about them, but I can’t help myself.

[Me now]

Steve Albini is a smart guy, and there are two things I appreciate about this rantlet that distinguish it from the usu. diatribes against fine dining as pointless/wasteful conspicuous consumption. 

1) He’s able to articulate his discomfort with molecular gastronomy in terms of efficiency. For him, the inputs (materials, time, labor, pricey china) don’t justify the output (bite of pureed sea urchin in caramel shell). He may be underselling the inputs necessary to produce one fresh peach, but this approach seems at least of a piece with his aesthetic as a musician and engineer — vintage mics, unfussy effects, hands-off production, etc. I don’t want to go too far into that, as I will just wind up sounding stupid, knowing, as I do, not so much about all that stuff. But, I do appreciate consistency across genres.

2) He’s able to locate his “hatred” for friends who do get off on fancypants food  in “the weakest … most reactionary part of my personality,” rather than using it to pole-vault up to the moral high ground and lob water balloons at those below. This speaks to a degree of  decency, empathy, and perspective that’s often in short supply when people start getting their panties in a twist about the ethics of fine dining. 

So, uh, good job.