I recently thumbed through a copy of My Paris Kitchen by David Lebovitz and was transfixed by his discussion of the French ethos au pif or “by the nose” meaning that food is to be prepared by feel. A good cook can feel (and I would argue, decide) what needs to be added, adjusted and/or executed for optimal results. Lebovitz goes on to argue that many a modern home cook demand direct, thorough, details; every step outlined to a point where cooking is more Ikea assembly than creative pursuit.
Lebovitz doesn’t condemn or laud either approach but I’ve noticed in preparing a number of his ice cream recipes (which are are excellent I might add) that he is more comfortable with ambiguity than the average recipe writer. He’ll use language like “about” to describe a quantity. Jamie Oliver, whose recipes I use regularly, applies similarly vague descriptions such as “a glug of oil” or “a small bunch of cilantro.”
On the other end of the spectrum is America’s Test Kitchen – who analyzes the science of preparing particular dishes from the ingredients to the process to the tools. America’s Test Kitchen is the producer of many favorite recipes because as long as you follow everything exactly as prescribed, the results are spectacular. There is deep satisfaction in producing a product that comes out as advertised.
The push and pull between science and artistry in food is exceptionally interesting and recently I’ve been considering it in terms of failure. There is a movement in education towards “growth mindset.” The long and short of growth mindset is that how one thinks about their failures can impact their ability to learn. If you look at a failure and say “I messed that up and I’m a horrible person,” you are unlikely to be able to learn from the failure. If you look at the failure and say, “I can try this again and what changes might I make to be more successful?” you are likely to learn from the experience.
When we cook au pif we introduce the possibility of failure. When we cook a la America’s Test Kitchen the possibility of failure is entirely removed. I can’t rattle off or reproduce America’s Test Kitchen recipes from memory, but Jamie Oliver recipes? His recipes require cooking au pif, and I’ve committed a whole slew of those to memory. The trial and error lead to more committed learning.
I’m not very comfortable with failure, in any form really, even in food. I often apologize for flaws in what I’ve produced (even though Julia Child directly instructs otherwise). But perhaps cooking a bit more au pif will help me to consider my food failures as valuable research and move the needle on my mindset. And if not, there is always tea to soothe me.
P.S. find David Lebovitz, America’s Test Kitchen & Jamie Oliver in my Amazon store.
I always performed well in school so the necessity for or desire to spend time revising work did not come naturally. I often felt a one and done approach worked for papers, but my Dad made it clear to me that writing is rewriting – and if one wanted to improve their writing, they needed to be rewriting in order to do so. The message was received and I managed to continue to improve my writing in college even without Dad’s copious edits and attentive draft review. My instructors in graduate and undergraduate school commented on the quality of my writing. One instructor told me”I think your thesis is terrible, but the paper is so well written I’m going to give you an A.” My writing is strong because I learned the important lesson of revision and even though patience is not my native nature, I could see in writing how making changes and giving yourself time could lead to a stronger end product. (Though truth be told I’m still too impatient to do that with this blog. 🙂 But that is the blogging medium, no?)
Last October I learned I have an endocrine disorder that impacts a number of systems but most saliently how my body manages insulin. Meaning responsible monitoring involves close attention to what I eat and when and how it impacts my glycemic load. And people, I loves to eat (not a typo, plural is intentional), so adjusting my expectations about what I can eat and why and when is a necessary challenge.
It’s May now, so I’ve spent six months digesting this news and reality and it’s left me with an important observation. I cook and eat better with restrictions. I was devastated at first thinking I would never eat baked goods again – and that isn’t really the case. Adding firm parameters around what I eat and when and why increases the creativity I take with food – which you’d think I’d learn from years and years of watching Top Chef, but no. In the last six months I developed a mindful set of habits that help me to make consistently good food choices, and therefore allow for equally regular (and prudent) deviations. These changes are a process and will continue to be so – but I’m confident in my ability to revise. Even though revising my picture of myself and my dining landscape is challenging and truly against my impatient nature, it’s a worthy pursuit and likely to lead to a stronger end product.
Fine finds and dines (admit it, you like alliteration):
Little Uncle: I have a great friend who works on Capitol Hill that always takes me to excellent spots for weekday lunch. This month we visited Little Uncle which recently relocated from Pioneer Square. This tiny Thai eatery features a diverse menu to suit a variety of tastes and caps of their excellent food with interesting house made sodas and a delicious iced tea brewed with pandan. I ate a black cod soup and taste tested my friend’s beef noodles. Both were rich in clean, fresh flavor and light on the dense oily quality that I often find in fast Thai places. As if yummy Thai food weren’t enough, the toasted flavor of their iced tea makes sky rocked this place to the top of the Capitol Hill lunch rotation.
Bar Noroeste: A friend from college recommended Bar Noroeste as a peer from her culinary school days is working the line. And by working the line I mean kicking ass and taking names. Bar Noroeste’s approach is to reimagine traditional Mexican dishes through a Northwest lens, and while that sounds odd as odd can be, the food is excellent and charming. The prix fixe menu includes a number of levels so all diners can find a comfortable price point, and they will serve prix fixe menu items a la carte as desired. The eggplant guacamole arrives amongst a mountain range of rye crisps and is unexpectedly yum. This opener is followed by a beautiful scallop ceviche and korean BBQ-esque spread of taco meats, veg, and pickles. The particulars of the meal change with the season meaning regular visits are a reasonable necessity. Be warned though, the dining room is indeed a bar in the strange Northwest fashion of long and narrow meaning you watch servers hustle and bustle and almost blow the house down all night long. However, the fresh, superb menu makes this literal sideshow less bothersome.
Agave Dream: Facing up to the reality of insulin resistance + insatiable desire for treats results in taste testing and exploring alternative sweeteners. Agave Dream ice cream made an appearance for “dry” root beer floats earlier this month (1/4 cup root beer, 3/4 cup club soda, 1 scoop Agave Dream Vanilla) and was SO satisfying it quickly made a second performance in chocolate. The glycemic index of this ice cream makes it perfect for those who are watching their blood sugar. Matt recently told me Agave is bad and leads to a fatty liver, etc. etc. etc. But for the occasional ice cream treat, I think Agave Dream is an appropriate indulgence and helps me meet my nutritional demands even when I’m “off the wagon.”
Didn’t Make the Cut
Carlile Room: Everything we ate here was delicious and interesting and unexpected for Tom Douglass, but not unexpected in a wider culinary landscape. Also the decor was odd. It’s a retro-kinda-tiki thing? With branded China plates? In my book the whole look is a miss. I’d happily go back and eat or drink, just won’t be expecting anything earth shattering.