But Can Ingredients Be TOO Good For A Successful Dish?

[teagal]

Years ago, on some thread on egullet, I remember reading about someone making all the ingredients for a banana pudding from scratch-homemade vanilla wafers, pastry cream for the pudding,etc. and realizing it didn't make a bit of difference, the regular store bought vanilla wafers and pudding made it a better dish!

[JoNorvelleWalker]

In one clause of the sentence you say "it didn't make a bit of difference", then that store bought was better!

However I can understand how store bought might be as good as or better than I can make for a lot of things. A few days ago I was in a discussion with a coworker that store bought hummus (Sabra) was better than what I could make and probably better than what she could make as well. She did not believe me.

A few weeks ago I made lady fingers for a trifle. My lady fingers were good, but I don't think better than store bought lady fingers for the trifle. I don't think it was a question of ingedients however. My lady fingers were crisper than store bought, and a pastry instructor I consulted afterwards told me lady fingers were supposed to be crisper than store bought. I am still trying to come up with the perfect cake for trifle. Something better than genoise or lady fingers.

I hope your informant did not use pieces of banana in the pudding. That sounds vile to me.

[Lisa Shock]

The main issue here is trying to copy the flavor, texture and overall experience of a middle-of-the-road item. When you use different ingredients, better ones or worse ones, you're bound to get different results one way or another. Maybe you need to ask yourself why you want to try in the first place.

If I make ravioli from scratch, they won't be like canned Chef Boyardi ravioli. Fans of the canned stuff will whine if I try to feed it to them, so maybe there's no point. If a person's taste is set on the canned ravioli, so be it. If they are more adventurous eaters, perhaps they will enjoy freshly made ravioli with fresh sauce. Some of the customers I cook for are like this, certain dishes have to be a certain way. They don't care if I can make something better, they just want the middle-of-the-road food, so, it's a huge waste of my time trying to convert them.

The reverse of this commentary is commercial products which are clearly inferior to ones freshly made with good ingredients. An example which comes to mind is Lady Stella cookies by Stella d'Oro. The fresh cookies at my local Italian bakery are tremendously better -so much so, that I wouldn't choose to eat Lady Stellas unless there were some sort of widespread famine caused by a zombie apocalypse, or something.

I'd like to point out that cream and orange is a classic combination. It's super-simple to infuse orange peels and vanilla bean in a pot of cream or milk, and make orange-vanilla flavor panna cottta, ice cream, whipped cream, pastry cream, etc. And, all of these can be super-delicious and have super-premium ingredients.

[Bill Klapp]

I think some of this trend comes from one-upmanship. The chef who makes burgers that are only as good as the guy across the street needs to differentiate, and some go to foodie hijinx like foie and lobster on a burger.

In home cooking, most of us when presented with a premium ingredient (that we see rarely), like a great lobster tail, piece of foie, an amazing piece of beef - we're more tempted to make it simply and let it shine so we can indulge in and love it as it is.

Of course, as the ingredient becomes more common, whether because of our financial situation, location, etc., we're more tempted to experiment with these things and play dress up with our fancy ingredients.

Some things need to just be what they are. Beef Nachos at the ballpark (for example) are intrinsically more enjoyable (though not necessarily better) than 'Premium Wagyu topped tortilla crisps with aged gruyere and rare indonesian chillies'. Why? 1st because one costs $2 and the other $40. 2nd because nachos are something we want to gulp and laugh and talk around without stopping to savor the exquisite ingredients and contemplate the earthiness of the cheese and marbling of the beef.

So, yes. Emphatically yes. I believe an ingredient can be too good for a certain dish.

I think some of this trend comes from one-upmanship. The chef who makes burgers that are only as good as the guy across the street needs to differentiate, and some go to foodie hijinx like foie and lobster on a burger.

In home cooking, most of us when presented with a premium ingredient (that we see rarely), like a great lobster tail, piece of foie, an amazing piece of beef - we're more tempted to make it simply and let it shine so we can indulge in and love it as it is.

Of course, as the ingredient becomes more common, whether because of our financial situation, location, etc., we're more tempted to experiment with these things and play dress up with our fancy ingredients.

Some things need to just be what they are. Beef Nachos at the ballpark (for example) are intrinsically more enjoyable (though not necessarily better) than 'Premium Wagyu topped tortilla crisps with aged gruyere and rare indonesian chillies'. Why? 1st because one costs $2 and the other $40. 2nd because nachos are something we want to gulp and laugh and talk around without stopping to savor the exquisite ingredients and contemplate the earthiness of the cheese and marbling of the beef.

So, yes. Emphatically yes. I believe an ingredient can be too good for a certain dish.

This post goes to the very heart at what I was trying to say. I am not at all reactionary about this, having attempted many such "upgrades" myself over the years, and I am sure that I will continue to do so. The surprising thing is always when the upgrade, which in theory should be terrific, ends up being disappointing instead.

I do have the occasional triumph, however. Creamed chipped beef, which I grew up eating and loving (without ever being forced to eat it in a military or institutional cafeteria context, as so many are), has benefitted dramatically from "upgrading". My first move was from the Armour salted dried beef stuffed into tiny little jars to Weaver's (of Lebanon, PA, of Lebanon bologna fame) smoked beef round, in each case with a good, homemade bechamel. When I moved to Italy, I discovered that I could buy little boxes of prepared bechamel that the Italians use as a labor-saving device when making lasagna. It is made from the same natural ingredients as mine (and you pay a fair price for that quality) and, with a little extra butter, a splash of cream and a little pepper added, as good as homemade. I also discovered that the Italians love smoked beef as a deli-counter item (usually spreading Philadelphia cream cheese on it and creating little rolatini), and you find many qualities and styles, but the best are more delicate and a little sweeter than Weaver's. Add some good Italian bread toast underneath, and ecco! I now have the Italian friends (well, at least the ones who would try it) begging for it. (It is, after all, three things that they like and eat, just a curious combination of them.) But I digress...

[Bill Klapp]

Is the divide something like the Hellman's/Best Foods regional naming? I grew up in California and I can't recall what they were called, but I wasn't a fan so that's probably why.

Exactly. That probably goes on a lot more than we realize, especially after several decades of mergermania in America. I recently learned over here that an outfit called Mondelez International, a Virginia corporation, now owns Kraft Philadelphia cream cheese, Tang, Certs, Dentyne, Chicklets, Hall's, Cadbury chocolates, Suchard, Toblerone, Chips Ahoy cookies, Oreos and all of the other former Nabisco brands! They seem to be pretty liberal in changing product names on a global basis, in some cases adding two established names to the same product, depending upon the name-brand recognition in a given market.

[Katie Meadow]

It would be hard for me to believe that Wonderbread or other average supermarket white bread makes a better sandwich than a plain artisan white bread (or the white bread my husband bakes) with anything between the slices. Put up a tomato sandwich with mayo on white bread for a test: home-made white bread, a perfectly ripe seasonal heirloom tomato and your mayo of choice vs Wonderbread with a winter tomato.

I recently made Smitten Kitchen's recipe for Fudgesickles. Fantastic! I used high quality dark chocolate and cocoa and my favorite organic 1% milk. It's probably been 20 or 30 years since I had a commercial Fudgesickle, but I am guessing I'm not missing much and that my upgrade actual makes the original stand the test of time--in memory. So, my theory is if you don't want to be disappointed make whatever you are craving with the best ingredients and use your gut instincts and it will taste like it used to--or at least it will taste like you remember: great and familiar. At least that works for me.

Of course if you love ballpark nachos and don't think they can be improved on then go for it. They can be easily duplicated at home for a lot less money than at the ballpark by using bulk commercial chips, velveeta and canned jalapenos. For that je ne sais quoi.

[Bill Klapp]

Two thoughts: there clearly are ingredients like Wonderbread and hothouse tomatoes which, as you suggest, need not be retained, in those cases probably because both are flavorless and incapable of contributing to "taste nostalgia"! With the Fudgesicle example, unlike my Haagen-Dazs example, you may have created something that is related to the original in name only, or, put another way, maybe you created what the Fudgesicle should or could have been but was not. Yet another possible outcome...

[annabelle]

I don't think that's what the OP is driving at, Katie, but I understand what you are saying too. For instance, I love macaroni and cheese. For years I tried every recipe and concoction I could think up to make the perfect mac and cheese that wasn't too dry or too wet or too cheesy. I learned that I 1) dislike baked macaroni and cheese with a passion. 2) I cannot abide bleu cheeses or four or more cheese mixtures. 3) I must have elbow macaroni and nothing else. 4) Most béchamel sauces for pasta are too thick and get thicker if too much cheese is added. 5) With cheeses, more is definitely not better.

So, probably thousands of pans of mac and cheese and most likely that many dollars later, I have embraced Kraft mac and cheese with the squeeze package of velveeta cheese. The horror! I like to think of it as molecular gastronomy before it was cool.

[Twyst]

So, probably thousands of pans of mac and cheese and most likely that many dollars later, I have embraced Kraft mac and cheese with the squeeze package of velveeta cheese. The horror! I like to think of it as molecular gastronomy before it was cool.

Look at little miss fancypants with her real velveeta. Ill stick with my kraft mac and cheese with the mystery powdered cheese packet thankyou very much

Edited August 20, 2013 by Twyst (log)

[Lisa Shock]

I don't think that's what the OP is driving at, Katie, but I understand what you are saying too. For instance, I love macaroni and cheese. For years I tried every recipe and concoction I could think up to make the perfect mac and cheese that wasn't too dry or too wet or too cheesy. I learned that I 1) dislike baked macaroni and cheese with a passion. 2) I cannot abide bleu cheeses or four or more cheese mixtures. 3) I must have elbow macaroni and nothing else. 4) Most béchamel sauces for pasta are too thick and get thicker if too much cheese is added. 5) With cheeses, more is definitely not better.

So, probably thousands of pans of mac and cheese and most likely that many dollars later, I have embraced Kraft mac and cheese with the squeeze package of velveeta cheese. The horror! I like to think of it as molecular gastronomy before it was cool.

Have you tried it with different cheeses? I have similar tastes, and really wanted to like macaroni and cheese and never did. (I am also a person who likes minimal sauce on my pasta.) I found that making it without bèchemel, just with cream, garlic and mozzarella, with a little oregano sprinkled on top, much the same as I make scalloped potatoes, works very well for me. I also made a really good version with smoked gouda - I made a layer of ziti in tomato sauce then added the gouda, cream and pasta mixture on top and baked the whole thing as a two layer casserole.

[slkinsey]

I think there is a meaningful difference between using a very high quality example of the same category of ingredient, and switching to a different ingredient that is perceived as categorically "better."

For example, I agree that using Dijon mustard may corrupt the experience of a "ballpark" hot dog for some people. But this is not because the Dijon mustard is higher in quality than French's mustard (although this may also be true). It's because "ballpark" hot dogs are traditionally dressed with American-style yellow mustard, which is completely different from Dijon mustard. The lesson here is that mustard types aren't fungible, not that the hot dog was ruined because the Dijon mustard was "too good." The appropriate question to test this thesis would be whether using a much higher quality of American-style yellow mustard would corrupt the hotdog experience. My thinking is that it would not, although it is also possible that the highest quality of American-style yellow mustard is effectively defined for many American palates by French's mustard, simply because for them French's is "what American-style yellow mustard is supposed to taste like." This, of course, brings up the fact that every taster gets to define his or her own hierarchy of quality. Just because I might think that the small batch artisanal organic American-style yellow mustard made by blind nuns is higher quality than French's doesn't make it so.

So I guess my answer is: no, I don't believe that using the highest quality example of an ingredient would ever have a negative effect on the success of a dish. But very often we confuse "different ingredient" for "better quality example of the same ingredient."

[Panaderia Canadiense]

I think there is a meaningful difference between using a very high quality example of the same category of ingredient, and switching to a different ingredient that is perceived as categorically "better."

For example, I agree that using Dijon mustard may corrupt the experience of a "ballpark" hot dog for some people. But this is not because the Dijon mustard is higher in quality than French's mustard (although this may also be true). It's because "ballpark" hot dogs are traditionally dressed with American-style yellow mustard, which is completely different from Dijon mustard. The lesson here is that mustard types aren't fungible, not that the hot dog was ruined because the Dijon mustard was "too good." The appropriate question to test this thesis would be whether using a much higher quality of American-style yellow mustard would corrupt the hotdog experience. My thinking is that it would not, although it is also possible that the highest quality of American-style yellow mustard is effectively defined for many American palates by French's mustard, simply because for them French's is "what American-style yellow mustard is supposed to taste like." This, of course, brings up the fact that every taster gets to define his or her own hierarchy of quality. Just because I might think that the small batch artisanal organic American-style yellow mustard made by blind nuns is higher quality than French's doesn't make it so.

So I guess my answer is: no, I don't believe that using the highest quality example of an ingredient would ever have a negative effect on the success of a dish. But very often we confuse "different ingredient" for "better quality example of the same ingredient."

Pursuant to this, would it be a "better" experience if the dog involved wasn't made of snoots and squeal but rather from a cut of ground high-grade pork? At what point does it cease to be a ballpark weinie and become something different?

[annabelle]

Hot dogs are best enjoyed at the ball game. It's the same thing that makes cocoa test better with a ski lodge around it.

[Bill Klapp]

Good post, Kinsey. It IS about "different from an earlier norm" more than about "higher quality", although, as you noted, regardless of which mustard they preferred, many people would no doubt say that Dijon is a "better" mustard by virtue of higher price, being French rather than French's, reputation, etc. However, intention counts for something, and when I am trying to change the ingredients in some classic food from my past, my intention is to try to improve on the product by using what I subjectively believe to be "better" ingredients without losing what made the food attractive to me in the first place.

[David Hensley]

I have to agree with just about everybody here! I think you've all made valid points, most of which I can confirm from personal experience.

I grew up in a town which carried both cream- and dream- sicles, of which I loved both. I also loved Flintstone's push-ups, the orange sherbet on a stick, inside a cardboard tube. These days, I dislike them all, as my love of ice cream of any kind has greatly waned.

I persistently try to "upgrade" my home dining experience, by substituting better ingredients than the original recipes called for, and have had good success. I've also "upgraded" recipes completely, and come away sad.

I find that if I crave a childhood favorite, I should simply eat that, because that will truly be the flavor I recall, and also want. I also find that sometimes, I want something completely exotic, yet based on an idea that my fondest memories keep. In the end, I can only come to the conclusion that if you like it, then eat it, and never question it, or feel guilty about it. Even as a professional Chef, of almost 20yrs now, I sometimes just want some stove-top stuffing, or ramen noodles after a long, crappy day at work...

Is that wrong? I think not...

[Bill Klapp]

I think there is a meaningful difference between using a very high quality example of the same category of ingredient, and switching to a different ingredient that is perceived as categorically "better."

For example, I agree that using Dijon mustard may corrupt the experience of a "ballpark" hot dog for some people. But this is not because the Dijon mustard is higher in quality than French's mustard (although this may also be true). It's because "ballpark" hot dogs are traditionally dressed with American-style yellow mustard, which is completely different from Dijon mustard. The lesson here is that mustard types aren't fungible, not that the hot dog was ruined because the Dijon mustard was "too good." The appropriate question to test this thesis would be whether using a much higher quality of American-style yellow mustard would corrupt the hotdog experience. My thinking is that it would not, although it is also possible that the highest quality of American-style yellow mustard is effectively defined for many American palates by French's mustard, simply because for them French's is "what American-style yellow mustard is supposed to taste like." This, of course, brings up the fact that every taster gets to define his or her own hierarchy of quality. Just because I might think that the small batch artisanal organic American-style yellow mustard made by blind nuns is higher quality than French's doesn't make it so.

So I guess my answer is: no, I don't believe that using the highest quality example of an ingredient would ever have a negative effect on the success of a dish. But very often we confuse "different ingredient" for "better quality example of the same ingredient."

Pursuant to this, would it be a "better" experience if the dog involved wasn't made of snoots and squeal but rather from a cut of ground high-grade pork? At what point does it cease to be a ballpark weinie and become something different?

In fact, I did that just a few days ago and posted about it for Holly Moore. I made mustard-onion-chili-slaw dogs for Italian guests almost exclusively from high-quality Italian ingredients. It ended up being one of the best hot dogs that I have ever eaten, in large part because it was a pure-pork dog (and at the current exchange rate, also costly, somewhere between $5-6 a pound) from northeastern Italy. However, it was absolutely something different from the hot dog that I sought to recreate, DESPITE French's mustard being the standout foreign ingredient...

[ruthcooks]

In one clause of the sentence you say "it didn't make a bit of difference", then that store bought was better!

However I can understand how store bought might be as good as or better than I can make for a lot of things. A few days ago I was in a discussion with a coworker that store bought hummus (Sabra) was better than what I could make and probably better than what she could make as well. She did not believe me.

A few weeks ago I made lady fingers for a trifle. My lady fingers were good, but I don't think better than store bought lady fingers for the trifle. I don't think it was a question of ingedients however. My lady fingers were crisper than store bought, and a pastry instructor I consulted afterwards told me lady fingers were supposed to be crisper than store bought. I am still trying to come up with the perfect cake for trifle. Something better than genoise or lady fingers.

I hope your informant did not use pieces of banana in the pudding. That sounds vile to me.

I made a great trifle once using tiny slices of homemade jelly roll.

[annabelle]

Have you tried it with different cheeses? I have similar tastes, and really wanted to like macaroni and cheese and never did. (I am also a person who likes minimal sauce on my pasta.) I found that making it without bèchemel, just with cream, garlic and mozzarella, with a little oregano sprinkled on top, much the same as I make scalloped potatoes, works very well for me. I also made a really good version with smoked gouda - I made a layer of ziti in tomato sauce then added the gouda, cream and pasta mixture on top and baked the whole thing as a two layer casserole.

I have tried everything, Lisa. Your suggestions sounds like a great idea for nights when I need to make something heartier for supper and not too far away from lasagna, which we all love at my house. I will definitely try it this fall. Thanks!

It's funny too that I was talking on the phone with my son who lives about a thousand miles from me while he was fixing his lunch yesterday. He is an adventurous cook and living alone for the first time since college and he said he was making ramen for lunch. "It's the first time I've made them not because I had to but because I wanted to." He chalked it up to nostalgia for college food. I think maybe the blue box mac n cheese is the same for me. That or I am a closet Philistine.

[Katie Meadow]

The power of nostalgic foods is pretty complex, especially when you factor in what I think are the two biggest variables: how memory alters perception and how your palate has changed over time. What I was trying to get at was the fact that if you have experienced lots of variety and new foods and broadened your tastes since the last time you tasted X, and if it's been years since you tasted it, your expectations or memory might not jibe with your perception of X now. There's no accounting for memory, it's so very personal and quirky. And it depends on whether or not you have eaten that food periodically over time.

I can count numerous examples of things I remember fondly from many years ago or from childhood and which when tasted years later were surprisingly awful. Not everything, but probably most things that were highly processed. Often what we remember loving was conceptually great; few would debate what a brilliant idea the s'more is. But have you tried one with home-made graham crackers and dark Belgian chocolate? Awesome, just as I remember--only not what it actually was!

The example of yellow mustard on a hot dog is an interesting one. First of all, does an example of "better" yellow mustard actually exist? I eat hot dogs once in a blue moon. But last year I went to Papaya King and had the juice and the standard dog with sauerkraut and yellow mustard (don't believe dijon was an option!). That juice drink can't be improved, whatever it is. And that hot dog would taste really silly with dijon mustard. However if Bill Klapp offered me the quality sausage he made his guests, I might think twice before putting French's on it.

[Martin Fisher]

The power of nostalgic foods is pretty complex, especially when you factor in what I think are the two biggest variables: how memory alters perception and how your palate has changed over time. What I was trying to get at was the fact that if you have experienced lots of variety and new foods and broadened your tastes since the last time you tasted X, and if it's been years since you tasted it, your expectations or memory might not jibe with your perception of X now. There's no accounting for memory, it's so very personal and quirky. And it depends on whether or not you have eaten that food periodically over time.

I can count numerous examples of things I remember fondly from many years ago or from childhood and which when tasted years later were surprisingly awful. Not everything, but probably most things that were highly processed. Often what we remember loving was conceptually great; few would debate what a brilliant idea the s'more is. But have you tried one with home-made graham crackers and dark Belgian chocolate? Awesome, just as I remember--only not what it actually was!

The example of yellow mustard on a hot dog is an interesting one. First of all, does an example of "better" yellow mustard actually exist? I eat hot dogs once in a blue moon. But last year I went to Papaya King and had the juice and the standard dog with sauerkraut and yellow mustard (don't believe dijon was an option!). That juice drink can't be improved, whatever it is. And that hot dog would taste really silly with dijon mustard. However if Bill Klapp offered me the quality sausage he made his guests, I might think twice before putting French's on it.

It's not just a problem with memory, many products have changed over the years.

Spaulding Krullers and Slim Jim snack sticks are a couple products that are very different than what they were when I was a kid.

[cakewalk]

I do not accept the premise that ingedients can be too good for a successful dish, however perhaps some ingredients are inappropriate for a given dish.

Good distinction.

[pastameshugana]

The power of nostalgic foods is pretty complex, especially when you factor in what I think are the two biggest variables: how memory alters perception and how your palate has changed over time...

Well said. We lived with our children in India for some time, and we've spent the years back home trying to re-create some of our favorite dishes to no avail. Even a note-perfect dish served in my kitchen is never going to taste like the Kati rolls on a busy street corner on a weekend night in Bangalore! The memories of the times, people, places all play into the memory of a dish, making it impossible to re-create.

My first time eating great dumplings was in a friends (under construction) restaurant doing a menu taste test with several other friends. The experience magnified the food many times over, and I doubt I'll ever eat a dumpling that I'll enjoy more - even if they taste measurably better.

I've evolved my 'memory cooking' - in other words, recreating favorite dishes - to doing 'riffs' on the dish. That way I can enjoy the memories of experiences without being disappointed with the results.

[JoNorvelleWalker]

The power of nostalgic foods is pretty complex, especially when you factor in what I think are the two biggest variables: how memory alters perception and how your palate has changed over time.

...

The example of yellow mustard on a hot dog is an interesting one. First of all, does an example of "better" yellow mustard actually exist? I eat hot dogs once in a blue moon.

Another factor I was thinking of was presentation of the food, beyond just location (ballpark, ski lodge). When I was little I enjoyed popsicles and ice cream novelties at the New Jersey shore. As an adult I have been disappointed. The thing about the shore circa 1950, proper refrigeration was not much of an option and vendors stored their products in chests of dry ice. The popsicles and ice cream novelties were rock hard and your tongue stuck to them. Makes all the difference in the world from something dripping down your arm. Wow, memory is funny, I'm really remembering the taste! Sadly anyone selling popsicles that cold these days would probably be sued.

May I point out tonight is the blue moon?

[Bill Klapp]

However if Bill Klapp offered me the quality sausage he made his guests, I might think twice before putting French's on it.

Yes, but this must be said: what I fixed was in no way comparable to the Papaya King dog-and-drink experience!

As an aside, one thing that does surprise me is how widespread hot dogs are in Italy. My area gets a lot of German wine and truffle tourism, and a fair number of Germans have vacation homes here, so at first, I thought maybe that the German presence fueled hot dogs and related sausages. However, after seeing that one of Torino's leading gastronomie goes to the trouble of importing hot dogs and various wursts from Germany and the Alto-Adige, as well as top-notch bottled sauerkraut from Germany, I now understand that the Italians have been enjoying dogs for a long time. Just no chili-slaw dogs!

Kudos to all here. This thread has become a good deal broader, deeper and more interesting (at least to me) than the original post...

[Toliver]

However if Bill Klapp offered me the quality sausage he made his guests, I might think twice before putting French's on it.

So we're talking nuance, then. You can put just about any mustard on a ballpark frank and it's still a ballpark frank. But if you sub in a Bill Klapp sausage, then it's not really a ballpark frank any longer.

When do the better ingredients change the essence of the dish so it's no longer the original/classic? When does "Gilding the Lily" cross the line and change the dish or experience?