The way the concoctions are described, there's always this particular structure that gets me.
They start of with the introduction of an accessible idea of a quick and delicious meal with achievable plausible maybe even appealing ingredients*, but then comes a drastic interjection of a disgusting improbable and inconceivable element like some sludge something's nestled in or globs, then theres a breathless recollection of a heptathlon of involved cooking methods and processes- say including pickling, frying, whisking, finely dicing, aerosol spraying. And then after all that there's a tiny patch of obliterated food on a saucer overshadowed by archeological cutlery to show for all of it.
I'm so drawn to food writing I can't help imagining as I read it, and Jack's descriptions are a juddering disorienting experience.
*admitting here I'm more partial than most to tinned fish- sorry I think somehow I make this disclosure every other post