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Cooking Speeds: Are You Slow or Fast?


Chris Amirault

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I've been mulling around a thought since I wrote this essay review about Sara Moulton's new cookbook, Sara's Secrets for Weeknight Meals. That book takes as its marching rhythm the hasty click, click, click of the second-hand and tries to get you to clock your meal prep in at around 15-30 minutes. I made several of the dishes in the book before reviewing it, of course, and while the recipes themselves panned out very nicely, I kept throwing a monkeywrench into the works.

I kept slowing down. Intentionally. I can rapidly dice and whisk and slice with the best of them, and my multitasking props in the kitchen are just fine, thank you. I just like to go slowly.

Part of it has to do with my work -- I run a preschool -- which requires twelve hands juggling three balls each; the thought of coming home at night or relaxing on the weekends in order to hurry through cooking seems just like more work. But part of it also has to do with my deeply felt, and at times slightly eerie, pleasure in the varied steps of cooking, both wee and grand.

I can't really explain it. I can dice an onion in about fifteen seconds, if need be -- but I always stop to slide each gentle slab of diced onion from my chef's knife into a bowl or off to the side of the cutting board. When prepping my mise en place, I want each bowl to contain just the right amount of ingredients: too few and they're lurking under the lip of the bowl; too much and I've got spills. And when I have to break down a large piece of meat? Grab the crossword puzzle because you're in for a wait.

When I first cooked with a professionally trained chef (in college, a friend of a friend), I marvelled at how quickly she whisked egg whites into stiff peaks. For several years, I wanted to be like her, timing myself while deboning a chicken, say. But it didn't stick, and the memory of that desire slowly receded until I read Michael Ruhlman's Making of a Chef, in which he described the hyper-efficient being into which the CIA had transformed him. I've thought about that transformation since reading the book a couple of years ago, and I've come to realize that such efficient cooking, though appealing for the sheen of quasi-professionalism it might bestow upon my ego, would simultaneously drain the craft of its pleasure for me.

So what's your relationship to time in cooking? Are you like me, lingering lovingly over the fond on your new skillet when the family is clamoring hungrily? Or do you find your pleasure in the efficient, timely dispatching of the tasks of cooking?

Chris Amirault

eG Ethics Signatory

Sir Luscious got gator belts and patty melts

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I have to work quickly so that I'm forced to concentrate. That way I'll actually make fewer mistakes.

It's the same thing at work. If I have 100 things to do in a day, I'll get 99 of them done. But if I only have 2 tasks, I'll inevitabley forget 1 of them!

SB (ADD sufferer before it was invented) :wacko:

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Oh dear. I thought about this a lot as I was doing the Oven Baked Chowder from Sara's book. As I reported here, I was able to do the prep in the 15 minutes as said in the recipe. On reflection, however, I did not enjoy myself with that 15 minute prep.

I have known for a long time that I am not a fast and flashy cook. I leave the grilling to other folks. I go out for steak. I excel at the dishes that take some time to develop . . . braises, projects like cassoulet, that sort of thing. What I didn't realize until the chowder exercise, was how much I absolutely hate hurrying at anything in the kitchen. I may dawdle over the diced red pepper as it comes off my knife. I will fiddle with the asparagus spears as though they were flowers to be arranged in a vase. If I had had the time, I would have studied the geometry of the potatoes, celery and onion before they went to the food processor for the chowder. As I prepare a recipe, a question may occur to me and I am off for a bit of research and may not get out of the books for an hour or more. It is probably a good thing that I am mostly cooking for myself. A family would shoot me.

So, I guess I am a slow cook. Very slow. And, quite probably, very annoying to anyone around that is hungry.

Linda LaRose aka "fifi"

"Having spent most of my life searching for truth in the excitement of science, I am now in search of the perfectly seared foie gras without any sweet glop." Linda LaRose

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the thought of coming home at night or relaxing on the weekends in order to hurry through cooking seems just like more work. But part of it also has to do with my deeply felt, and at times slightly eerie, pleasure in the varied steps of cooking, both wee and grand.

I can't really explain it. I can dice an onion in about fifteen seconds, if need be -- but I always stop to slide each gentle slab of diced onion from my chef's knife into a bowl or off to the side of the cutting board. When prepping my mise en place, I want each bowl to contain just the right amount of ingredients: too few and they're lurking under the lip of the bowl; too much and I've got spills. And when I have to break down a large piece of meat? Grab the crossword puzzle because you're in for a wait.

When I first cooked with a professionally trained chef (in college, a friend of a friend), I marvelled at how quickly she whisked egg whites into stiff peaks. For several years, I wanted to be like her, timing myself while deboning a chicken, say. But it didn't stick, and the memory of that desire slowly receded until I read Michael Ruhlman's Making of a Chef, in which he described the hyper-efficient being into which the CIA had transformed him. I've thought about that transformation since reading the book a couple of years ago, and I've come to realize that such efficient cooking, though appealing for the sheen of quasi-professionalism it might bestow upon my ego, would simultaneously drain the craft of its pleasure for me.

So what's your relationship to time in cooking? Are you like me, lingering lovingly over the fond on your new skillet when the family is clamoring hungrily? Or do you find your pleasure in the efficient, timely dispatching of the tasks of cooking?

Good observations, Chris!

Now I'll never feel pangs of guilt for being "too slow" in the kitchen again!

SuzySushi

"She sells shiso by the seashore."

My eGullet Foodblog: A Tropical Christmas in the Suburbs

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I like slow.... I enjoy cooking most when the instructions call for an hour of simmering, 2 hours in the oven, a long rise. That time just extends the pleasure of the food, and makes the house smell good besides!! But then, I don't have any kids crying and hanging on my leg to be fed. My husband will wait patiently as long as the wine holds out!!!

Stop Family Violence

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Maybe its the fencing training, or the ballroom dance, or even the middle-distance running, but I do both.

There are times when cooking is like a triple-time swing: fast-fast-fast. Grilling swordfish or tuna, or that perfect piece of beef you bought because you just got that promotion (which reminds me, I need a bottle of champagne for making Staff Sergeant!)

There are times when cooking is like a classical waltz: deliberate, slow, twisty and turny. Making chili is a great example, or baking bread.

But, there are times when cooking is like a fox-trot (or a really rocking sabre bout). It's all about both the fasts and the slows.

It takes all types. I don't excel at any one, but I try to be reasonable at all because they're all necessary at some point.

I always attempt to have the ratio of my intelligence to weight ratio be greater than one. But, I am from the midwest. I am sure you can now understand my life's conundrum.

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I can do fast when necessary, and can even take a certain masochistic pride in whipping something up super-fast. But my preference is to be a bit more leisurely--not dead slow, but a more deliberate pace. I really enjoy getting into the zen of cooking, and that's much better experienced when you take a little time at it. Plus, when I get into frenzied super-fast mode, I'm afraid I have a tendency to wound myself with sharp things or hot things.

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I'm actually more of a fast person. Theres something fun about the controlled chaos where you know everything is just teetering on the edge of of getting out of control and you have to take care of 5 things at once. But every move you make is controlled and perfect and you manage to bang something out that tastes incredible. It's a huge adrenaline rush.

Then again, theres also something soothing about making a huge batch of chicken stock and taking the time to slow down and get everything right.

PS: I am a guy.

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I'm fast and simple during the week when I have about 30 minutes to put dinner on the table or throw it on a plate. On the weekends, when I have more time, I slow down to a more deliberate(good choice of word, Miz Ducky) pace and enjoy the time I have to cook. The best part for me is the spending the time, chopping, dicing, stirring, reducing, the whole process. It's a whole different dance when I have the time.

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I work quickly, mainly because that's my basic all around speed. I have a hard time slowing down in general, and cooking is no exception. That said, I do almost all prep by hand because I enjoy the feel of chopping an onion, the zen focus that zones everything else out and concentrates on that moment. But Shalmanese has it right for me - I love the adrenaline rush of having many things to juggle at once. Gets my heart pumping and makes me feel alive.

Kathy

Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all. - Harriet Van Horne

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When it's the stuff I find more tedioius, like chopping onions or garlic, I tend to do it quickly. I slow down a bit when frenching bones b/c I want the finished product to look really clean. I take a long time plating and arranging the food so that it looks good, though...I think that's the fun part!

I bake more than I cook, and I'm the same way when it comes to baking. Putting together a cake only takes me a few minutes--I'm super quick at that, because I don't think the quality of the cake will suffer as long as I measure accurately. I do take the time to press the tart dough into the tart pan perfectly, so that takes awhile. So really, it depends on whether I enjoy the task or not, and whether working faster will compromise the finished dish.

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I'm actually more of a fast person. Theres something fun about the controlled chaos where you know everything is just teetering on the edge of of getting out of control and you have to take care of 5 things at once. But every move you make is controlled and perfect and you manage to bang something out that tastes incredible. It's a huge adrenaline rush.

Then again, theres also something soothing about making a huge batch of chicken stock and taking the time to slow down and get everything right.

I break myself up into the weekend and weekday cook.

Weekends (especially during winter), I am happy to cook things that require long time frames and slow seductive cooking. Most of that is inactive though, I spend that time enjoying the wafts through the house. Prep wise - I am not especially slow though.. it can sometimes mean frantically searching for a particular ingredient or furiously chopping before the oil gets too hot. I am not an especially patient person.

Even though I get home relatively early, around 5 or 5.30 if I don't go to the gym, on weeknights I plan for 30 minute or less dinners. I try to plan ahead and defrost as necessary. I cannot STAND to walk in the door and start cooking straight away, I like to take my shoes off at the very least and pour a glass of wine. The time constraint means you are relying more upon simple fresh ingredients to balance each other out. I just love it when I can come up with something truly awesome.

Tomorrow night's dinner I am really happy with, I made a couscous salad that required an hour chilling tonight. It took 10 minutes to throw together and yet tomorrow it will be ready to eat. Awesome. I only hope it tastes good enough to bother again.

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Generally speaking, I just go as fast as I need to -- I set a time for dinner, and do whatever is needed to get it done in time. I have a really bad tendency of thinking way too much, so when I'm working off a new recipe, I spend an awful lot of time visualizing the cooking process, trying to find better ways of doing things (well that's my excuse) and generally obsessing over things...

I don't know this with absolute certainty, but I figure cooking is like any other profession -- the fastest and most efficient folks are the ones without any wasted motion. This engineer I once used work with seemed like the busiest guy in the company, until I realized 50% of his work output consisted of freaking out about his workload, telling everybody how busy he was and generally conveying his trauma to anyone who'd listen...

Keep yer head down, don't worry too much, and get on with it -- that's what I try to do. Sometimes it works.

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I figure cooking is like any other profession -- the fastest and most efficient folks are the ones without any wasted motion.

That's definitely Ruhlman's point in the book: when you're on the line and in the weeds, you have to be able to be utterly efficient, no wasted motion. Thing is, most of the time, I enjoy wasted motion.

Just to be clear: I'm not making the argument for two-hour scrambled eggs here. I cook my steak, popcorn, etc. just as quickly as you do. I just might scramble those eggs a bit longer -- and a bit more longingly -- than you.

Chris Amirault

eG Ethics Signatory

Sir Luscious got gator belts and patty melts

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Different strokes for different folks redux ...

When I was a working mother and wife, I had to move rapidly through more routine food preparation. The buying of ingredients was handled more efficiently, with little room for experimentation.

Now that stage in my life has passed into history and I can buy ingredients in a more leisurely fashion, linger over new possibilities, prepare my mis en place slowly and carefully, and make new dishes (as well as old standards) at a slower, more measured pace.

If anything, I love cooking even more now that I can try new things and buy more exotic ingredients ... reading recipes over and over ... modifying when possible .. exploring more creative ideas, all thanks to eGullet .. this is my inspiration, my muse, for all manner of new dishes! :biggrin:

Oh, back to the original question? Slowly, and leisurely ... cooking, like sex, should be enjoyably slow and savored to bring out maximum pleasure ... savoring the sensuality is my main goal now ... :wink:

Melissa Goodman aka "Gifted Gourmet"

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hmm. I don't think that "fast" and "efficient" are the necessarily the same thing (though heaven knows they're related). I like to be efficient (ie. reading the recipe well, generally having my mis en place ready) but I'm not necessarily in a hurry to finish the cooking. If I'm not distracted by searching for an ingredient at a critical moment, for example, I can relax and enjoy the process of what I'm doing. In fact, I find that paying some attention to efficiency gives me confidence to take on a more ambitious--and usually longer--cooking project than I might otherwise do.


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hmm. I don't think that "fast" and "efficient" are the necessarily the same thing (though heaven knows they're related).  I like to be efficient (ie. reading the recipe well, generally having my mis en place ready) but I'm not necessarily in a hurry to finish the cooking.  If I'm not distracted by searching for an ingredient at a critical moment, for example, I can relax and enjoy the process of what I'm doing. In fact, I find that paying some attention to efficiency gives me confidence to take on a more ambitious--and usually longer--cooking project than I might otherwise do.

You make a good point. While my cooking is definitely at the slow end of the scale, I am not disorganized at all. I do read through the recipe. If it is rather complex, I will do a visualization of the process. When there are a lot of ingredients involved, I definitely do a mise en place. I actually enjoy seeing all of those beautiful ingredients lined up in a row. (In the order called for, of course.) If something is really complex or takes a few days, I have a big sticky note with bullet points and maybe a time line. I put a big red star by the steps where I need to pay attention. Then I can dawdle, enjoy myself and maybe get distracted without blowing it. The results are telling. When I rushed through the prep for the chowder to make the 15 minutes, I completely forgot the thyme.

Linda LaRose aka "fifi"

"Having spent most of my life searching for truth in the excitement of science, I am now in search of the perfectly seared foie gras without any sweet glop." Linda LaRose

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Fast for breakfast. I am not a morning person but I take pride in fixing a full breakfast for whoever's in the house come the weekend, with everything cooked to their preferences, in minimal time with no help. I just get my groove on. Coffee is involved.

Moderate for weeknight cooking. I don't linger if we actually want to eat by a given time, but I don't really spin and twirl as rapidly as for breakfast. In this case I am usually either vaguely working from a recipe or already planned out the steps in my head on the way home from work. Moderate also for baking sweet stuff, not bread - there are certain time constraints with raising agents but I also don't want to rush through and make idiotic mistakes.

Slow if I am making something on the weekend that will be slow cooked anyway and is not immediately needed. I love to chill out and hang out with the vegetables, take my time, hone my knife skills, potter a bit. That gives me the opportunity not to have everything drilled out in my head to get done, bam, bam, bam, in quick succession, but to enjoy the moment for each step and then think about the next step.

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Slow, without a doubt. I am much like you, Chris, except that I even refuse to rush at work. On the job I don't like just creep along -- actually I am very efficient in my work, but I do take the time I need to do the job well and enjoy what I'm doing.

I am slow in just about everything I enjoy. It's a luxury, I know, but since "semi-retirement" I vowed to myself that I will never rush through anything, unless it's an emergency. So in cooking, planning, eating, all my passions, I go slowly. If I had a deadline that would make me have to cut any corners or be in a hurry (or chop real fast like your onion dicing example, Chris :smile: ), I would fix something else instead.

This discussion illustrates why I want to be only a home cook, and have no desire whatsoever to be a chef, or even a personnal chef. I want to continue loving every moment of it!

Life is short; eat the cheese course first.

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This is a really interesting question. For me, it depends on what I'm making.

For cooking, I'm probably somewhere in the moderate category. If I'm making something I've made a million times before, then it goes pretty quickly, though not through fault of my rushing. It's more like I don't have to stop to think, so things go faster. For a new dish, I take time, deliberately spending time reading and re-reading instructions.

When I bake, though, I'm pretty speedy. Maybe because I've been baking for longer than I've been cooking (since I was about 6 or 7, I've been baking on my own - supervised only for those time when I was interacting with flame or heat), or maybe because baking is so precise and exact. Not sure why, but I really breeze through baking, whereas I tend to take my time with cooking.

This could, however, have lots to do with my inferior knife skills. :laugh:

"We had dry martinis; great wing-shaped glasses of perfumed fire, tangy as the early morning air." - Elaine Dundy, The Dud Avocado

Queenie Takes Manhattan

eG Foodblogs: 2006 - 2007

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I think my experiments with making demi-glace, doing Granville Island cuisine du marché and Groundhog Day pretty much have me saying "whatever speed is necessary for the task".

I think I'm slowest when thinking up menu plans since that activity constantly changes when I realize that the ingredients for what I want to make aren't available at the market. Once everything's settled menu-wise, I'm very fast with mise en place and breaking down large cuts of meat or fish. Actual cooking speed is whatever the ingredients or preparation would call for, though I'm better at manipulating multiple items now that I've stopped trying to do overly complicated things. I am slow when it comes to plating because I want the plate to look good.

The exceptions: I whip through the process whenever I'm asked to make something I don't like, and I am very slow when I make stock and demi-glace because I want the stuff to come out as best as possible.

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