What Drives your cooking?

[paul o' vendange]

Hi everyone -

Inspired by some nice conversations on a France thread, I have been thinking a bit on what first grabs me when I cook, in terms of what I wish to convey to my guests by a given plate, or menu; and I am curious how others go about their process. I'll start.

Whenever I begin thinking of a plate, it is an emotional start, with broad strokes, visceral connections, senses lit up that I seek to pass on, and little else - it may be a play of colors in my mind, or the seasonal, sense connection to a certain aroma, but this is where it starts. I use these broad strokes to continually go inwards, down to the execution of recipes and techniques - but it all starts with an emotional "theme," and a desire to infectiously pass on the first emotive impulse surrounding the memories, aromas, images, etc., that come to mind.

One example may serve. At my former bistro, located in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, hunting life is very much a part of the autumn our way. While I love venison, the deer up here have a tough time - surviving on scrub pine, and little else, during the long, cold months; their life is harsh, and their taste is equally rough, tasting of resin and little else. I sought to provide some experience of the fall, while elevating what venison could be in people's minds.

So - seared Cervena rack, delicata squash "barquettes," braised red cabbage; dressed with venison sauce, and lighting the plate, a duo of glazes - a pomegranate syrup (nothing more than reduced, clarified fresh juice); and a syrup made from juniper-infused late harvest riesling, highly reduced and clarified. The pomegranate - sheening, bright crimson - reminded of blood, of the hunt, of where this animal came from; and the riesling was golden-hued, reminding of fall leaves and the holiday season. Because of its play of color, I personally called it my "party plate," but I think it would have been more aptly called "a desire to pass on a walk through the fall woods."

I'd like to invite anyone reading this - what drives your cooking? How do you compose a plate, or a menu?

Edited November 11, 2006 by paul o' vendange (log)

[Carrot Top]

Whenever I begin thinking of a plate, it is an emotional start, with broad strokes, visceral connections, senses lit up that I seek to pass on, and little else - it may be a play of colors in my mind, or the seasonal, sense connection to a certain aroma, but this is where it starts.  I use these broad strokes to continually go inwards, down to the execution of recipes and techniques - but it all starts with an emotional "theme,"  and a desire to infectiously pass on the first emotive impulse surrounding the memories, aromas, images, etc., that come to mind. 

One example may serve.  At my former bistro, located in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, hunting life is very much a part of the autumn our way.  While I love venison, the deer up here have a tough time - surviving on scrub pine, and little else, during the long, cold months; their life is harsh, and their taste is equally rough, tasting of resin and little else.  I sought to provide some experience of the fall, while elevating what venison could be in people's minds. 

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Interesting. You start with colors/aroma/emotion then move to a specific physical place then draw (to use a lightweight word, really, but I detest the word "convey" ) it through the food.

I do rather the same thing. But (after the primary start of considering who it is that will be sitting at the table) rather, start with one single ingredient. One bright red pepper that seems about ready to burst out of its skin, a pepper that almost talks. (What would it say if it spoke? What language would it speak? Would it be funny and amusing, or angry and proud?) Anthropomorphism.

Whatever it is that the food says, it leads then to a place. It might be anywhere, depending on whatever falls into my mind at that moment. My places are often filled with architecture, and that in the final run can lead to "shape" (specific) ideas. St. Petersburg, with spires and fog and mystery and power, where a red pepper would be a rare late summer treat? Sardinia, where the soil would seem volcanic and hot and the peppers would sprout like an excess of children in a crowded room, all toppling over each other, all demanding immediate attention NOW?

Thinking of the place then leads to the mental file that holds knowledge of the traditional foods produced in that place, the palette that composes the palate. Methods of cookery used, fuels, tools, ways of familial dining, recipes based on tradition.

Then taking that, some part of it (in order to make a shift into something that would or could actually be termed privately creative) must be re-shaped, re-sculpted, re-written with a different turn of phrase in some sense.

Then the whole thing has to be considered as to actual taste (in the mind) and "workability" (what is the production level? will the space this will be produced in support the equipment needs and service demands? etc etc) and finally, (ah, yes, important part ) the people who are going to dine upon this must be again considered. Strange that people actually have to come into this equation, but it won't work otherwise, in the end run. If one actually knows the "audience" one can come closer to fitting one's artistic desires into their so-individual palates and hungers.

I don't do all this a lot anymore - my mind has turned to wanting to play with words rather than with foods. In words, a story is told. In the things you've designed with food a story is also told for those who wish to listen. And how practical, that one actually gets to eat it, too!

[hathor]

For me, it starts with an ingredient. Something that has captured my attention, for whatever reason, and then comes the desire to focus that flavor. To keep that flavor distinct. Then what? Success for me comes when I can create a flavor 'journey', if you'll allow me this conceit.

Example: Shola of StudioKitchen fame is an expert at creating this journey. He served a smooth, silky, rich parsnip soup with honeyed walnuts and grapefruit. You could manipulate each spoonful toward sweet or tart, it was a magnificent journey, and the diner was in control.

Current experiments: chestnut semifreddo with saba. I had a ton of chestnuts in the kitchen, and 5 liters of mosto. Mosto is an early fermintation wine, sort of like grape juice with a little somethin'somehin' going on. The grainy chestnut semifreddo is smooth and calming, the mosto a tart counterpoint. I'm not sure I like the grainy-ness of the chestnut and I may pass the next batch thru a fine strainer. I've also reduced the mosto even further to a thick syrup, with the addition of quinces, to something that is called saba. The plan is to serve the saba warm over the semifreddo.

Frizzled artichokes: thin slices of artichoke that are fried. Completely delicious, but they it's a counterpoint flavor, not a featured flavor. Could work with: creamy polenta, poached fish, roasted sausage.

As far as pleasing the audience: I strive for a balance between the safe and sure and a little touch of the unexpected. I've converted a whole table full of 'safe eaters' to the divine pleasure of braised fennel. If you are lucky, you can develop a level of trust.

Paul, is this what you were askin??

[paul o' vendange]

Karen and Judith, thank you for your wonderful, thoughtfully generous posts. I am really intrigued by both your approaches (and would really love to eat your food!). I love the sense of play embedded in a solid culinary sense. I am not all that playful a cook, striving all these years for the mastery of a certain orthodoxy, so both of you have provided a wonderful vista. Thanks.

Oh, Judith, by the way -

is this what you were askin??

You bet! I really have no preconceived idea - I am just fascinated how cooks come to what they do, and you put forward a beautiful example. Those artichokes look really good....For a winemaker dinner last year, one of the courses was a pan-roast halibut with artichoke vinaigrette, and a couple of anchovy fritters...your artichokes would have been a wonderful component.

Edited November 11, 2006 by paul o' vendange (log)

[Milagai]

Hathor:

opleaseplease

share recipes for the frizzled artichoke shreds

and braised fennel?

I did search on recipegullet and they're not there,

unless I searched wrong?

thanks in advance

Milagai

[hathor]

Milagai, I'll share my recipes, on one condition....you take them, add your own twist and report back! I think this thread is about the evolution of a dish.

Braised Fennel:

Chop the raw fennel into small pieces, simmer in a small amount of chicken stock. Warning: the fennel produces more water than you might think. When you've got the fennel pretty mushy, and the juices are almost completely evaporated, add some butter and let it melt. At this point, you can leave the dish until you are ready to serve it. Heat it in the oven with a small amount of grated parmigiana on top.

Frizzled Artichoke

Thinly slice a raw artichoke, let the slices marinate in acidulated water for at least an hour. Using a mixture of flour, cornstarch and salt, thinly coat the wet slices of artichoke. Shake off any excess flour. Fry. I fried this in a combination of pork lard and olive oil, because its what I have a lot of in my kitchen. What will you do??

p.s. Paul, did you ever see the Adams Family movies? Not sure which one, but its the one where Grandma admonishes Wendy, "Now, play with your food." and the bowl of food is all wiggling worms and eyeballs?

Edited November 11, 2006 by hathor (log)

[Milagai]

Milagai, I'll share my recipes, on one condition....you take them, add your own twist and report back!  I think this thread is about the evolution of a dish.

←

Many many thanks Hathor!

Oh I'll twist all right! I am incapable of following

a recipe exactly and always modify.

'tswy I can't bake.... but braise is good...

visualising what I will likely do:

Re fennel - will replace hen stock with veg stock;

ghee instead of butter; and depending on how it

smells, perhaps more than a smidgen of cayenne.....

Would a small squirt of lemon juice be good or bad (what

do you say?)

This is going on the Thanksgiving list for sure.....

The artichoke may be harder to customize, I might

leave it as is (only olive oil or maybe some ghee instead of lard),

but will serve along with caramelized onion

shreds as topping for pulao etc...?

Maybe also for TG....

M

To Paul: the previous posters were so poetic and artistic in

their food approaches. I alas, am very mundane:

1. What's on sale this week?

2. What have I recently made and how can I ring the changes

and keep things seasonal?

3. What all else is needed to "balance" the meal (in terms

of texture - wet vs dry, colour - too much brown or

too little yellow/red, taste - hot vs milder, nutrition etc.)

4. How hassled am I feeling - do I have the bandwidth to

soak and grind dals or am I going to keep it as simple as possible,

but above all, it has to taste good......

these are my algorithms.....

Milagai

Edited November 11, 2006 by Milagai (log)

[ryangary]

This is off topic but this weekend special at my bistro is cervena tenderloin,butternut squash puree, braised cabbage and black currant jus. We are also 28 seats and located in Windsor. Bizarro world indeed.

[Dave Hatfield]

For me its taste that grabs me first. That perfect first bite of the quintessional apple. A sip of 100 year old vintage port. A wonderful steak. And on and on and on.

When I first learned to cook my goal was to duplicate the taste of my Mother's food. Not that she was such a great cook, but her cooking was what I knew & liked. As I got into my teens I started trying to emulate the tastes from my friend's Mother's cooking; in my case this was primarily Southern Italian & Mandarin Chinese. I can still remember clearly the taste of a soft polenta with bolognase sauce & parmisian dish that my friend Roger's Mom made. I've never quite been able to duplicate it.

Later I was fortunate enough to travel Europe & many other parts of the world for many years on an expense account. Although I rarely went beserk I did eat well and as my friends in the various countries learned that I loved good food & cooking I was introduced to restaurants well off the tourist track. My then newly married wife, Linda, was shocked when I came home & announced that we were changing our vacation plans so we could go to dinner at Girondet in Switzerland. My favorite ever restaurant. So it was a drive across France & over the Jura to Lausanne instead of the ferry to Spain & the wine country. After the dinner she agreed that it was the right choice.

I would come home & try my darndest to replicate the taste of something I'd eaten during my travels. I slowly got to where I could come close. I still have fun trying.

As I got older & more experienced as a cook I started to have more & more of my own ideas of what food combinations might work. (anaheim chilies sliced lengthways, deseeded, grilled, flipped & filled with ripe brie then grilled until the brie melts was an early simple idea.) These days I fool around a lot & try things. Linda is my taster & severist critic, think she only puts up with me because of the very occasional success.

I love doing it & in the main our friends seem to enjoy eating it.

So, for me its all about taste. I admire beautiful looking food, but can't really do it. I admire the adventurous cooks, but get upset with novelty for its own sake. The tastes have to work. The ingredient too far syndrome is far to common.

To paraphrase the old cliche: "where's the taste?"

Thanks to Paul for starting this thread so eloquently and providing me a platform for this rant. Peace to all.

[srhcb]

I may be missing the point entirely, but I was going to allude to a sort of "feng shui" until a bit of Googling disclosed that it's already available at Wal-Mart?

So, to coin new phrase, perhaps your method of plate/menu development is rather like a practical application of environmental metaphysics?

SB ( is right!)

[paul o' vendange]

This is off topic but  this  weekend special at my bistro is cervena tenderloin,butternut squash puree, braised cabbage and black currant jus. We are also 28 seats and located in Windsor.  Bizarro world indeed.

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Ha! Wow, that's great. It is always interesting when stuff like this happens - I forget what it was, but something about Chefs Bocuse and Guerard, I think, coming up with something at the same time, with absolutely no cross pollination -not a movement (i.e., nouvelle or minceur) but literally, a plate, and it was only discovered after the fact that both had come up with something at the same time, utterly independently. After my agonization over relevé, I am not even attempting to remember what it was...but I think this is fascinating when it happens.

Edited November 11, 2006 by paul o' vendange (log)

[paul o' vendange]

p.s. Paul, did you ever see the Adams Family movies? Not sure which one, but its the one where Grandma admonishes Wendy, "Now, play with your food." and the bowl of food is all wiggling worms and eyeballs?

Hahah - Yep, I sure did. May we never lose this. Funny - there was thought behind the name of my bistro, Waterstone; stone, which held a sense of seriousness of purpose, I think, yet water - light, fanciful, dancing, and not taking ourselves too seriously. I error too far on the former side, and I will try to keep Grandma's dictum always close by. That was priceless.

[paul o' vendange]

For me its taste that grabs me first. That perfect first bite of the quintessional apple. A sip of 100 year old vintage port. A wonderful steak. And on and on and on.

When I first learned to cook my goal was to duplicate the taste of my Mother's food. Not that she was such a great cook, but her cooking was what I knew & liked. As I got into my teens I started trying to emulate the tastes from my friend's Mother's cooking; in my case this was primarily Southern Italian & Mandarin Chinese. I can still remember clearly the taste of a soft polenta with bolognase sauce & parmisian dish that my friend Roger's Mom made. I've never quite been able to duplicate it.

Later I was fortunate enough to travel Europe & many other parts of the world for many years on an expense account. Although I rarely went beserk I did eat well and as my friends in the various countries learned that I loved good food & cooking I was introduced to restaurants well off the tourist track. My then newly married wife, Linda, was shocked when I came home & announced that we were changing our vacation plans so we could go to dinner at Girondet in Switzerland. My favorite ever restaurant. So it was a drive across France & over the Jura to Lausanne instead of the ferry to Spain & the wine country. After the dinner she agreed that it was the right choice.

I would come home & try my darndest to replicate the taste of something I'd eaten during my travels. I slowly got to where I could come close. I still have fun trying.

As I got older & more experienced as a cook I started to have more & more of my own ideas of what food combinations might work. (anaheim chilies sliced lengthways, deseeded, grilled, flipped & filled with ripe brie then grilled until the brie melts was an early simple idea.) These days I fool around a lot & try things. Linda is my taster & severist critic, think she only puts up with me because of the very occasional success.

I love doing it & in the main our friends seem to enjoy eating it.

So, for me its all about taste. I admire beautiful looking food, but can't really do it. I admire the adventurous cooks, but get upset with novelty for its own sake. The tastes have to work. The ingredient too far syndrome is far to common.

To paraphrase the old cliche: "where's the taste?"

Thanks to Paul for starting this thread so eloquently and providing me a platform for this rant. Peace to all.

←

You know, people asked me where I learned...and I always told them my mother's kitchen. She wasn't a distinctly French cook. But we grew up with, among other things, a kind of artichokes barigoule, lamb stews with wine, and so forth. Though much of what she grew up was out of Betty Crocker, our line's French blood found its way through generations of mothers, I came to fully realize on mounting my own venture. It occurred to me how much our food is our past, however latent.

Wonderful post, Dave, as usual, thanks. I think you are asking the question that moves beyond "what drives us" to "what is the purpose of dining," a question I have asked myself over and over again in refining what I want to accomplish.

[TJHarris]

Paul;

I think that I may be a bit off in left field with my creative methods. When I find a new or unusual ingredient, I tend to first think of the classic preparations and move from there. What flavors are commonly associated with the item? What are the other complimentary flavors. What are the usual cooking methods? How would changing the cooking method affect the flavors and textures? How would these flavors play off of the courses that fall before or after on the menu? Will these flavors be so bold that the courses that come after would be seemed washed out? But in the end, a lot depends on remembering your signature line,

" Food should taste like what it is."

[thecuriousone]

I think about this question a lot. Often I want to create theatre on the plate and to reproduce things that I have seen in my travels for my guests. I’m still a failure at getting that vertical salad presentation from Alfred Portale’s Gotham City Cookbook to work.

But there are other times when the most direct and intense method to offer comfort is to cook for those I care about. When the pain is great and nothing can be fixed, I instinctively reach for the “homey” foods in my repertoire to express this. Cakes, pies, pot pies, braised short ribs, macaroni and cheese and biscuits appear on my table. What is even more amazing is that the mechanics of these dishes just seem to come together. My sauces come together the first time; the seasoning is where it should be. When I am cooking from that space, there is no fear that it won’t be right on the first pass. The desire to convey comfort on the plate seems to be so strong that it overtakes any doubts I have about my abilities to convey what needs to be conveyed.

In reading, “Heat”, it appears that cooking professionally is about being devoid of emotion. It’s about reproducing a specific end point in the exact same way, 300 times an evening. While I have the utmost respect for that effort, what drives what I put on the plate is emotion. The urge to convey wonderment, comfort, history, whimsy, flirtation, seduction……………….

[paul o' vendange]

In reading, “Heat”, it appears that cooking professionally is about being devoid of emotion. It’s about reproducing a specific end point in the exact same way, 300 times an evening.  While I have the utmost respect for that effort, what drives what I put on the plate is emotion.  The urge to convey wonderment, comfort, history, whimsy, flirtation, seduction……………….

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Great post. Personally, I don't think it comes down to a zero-sum game between "emotion" and production of an end goal; I think it is finding a means to marry the two; to bring that "emotion" fully in, while being able to do it consistently, meal after meal.

I made every effort to give over to the cooks - none of whom had done this type of cooking before - the importance of a few things: that we seek to clarify, extend, preserve essential flavor and character of the materials we used, not be wizards in unduly manipulating them; that the simple things throughout the day, simply but rigorously performed, adding up to our mise for service, were the bedrock we built ourselves on; and, to learn the principles underlying what we were trying to accomplish in the myriad things we did - why marriages, why these cuts, difference between a gently sweet carmelization from an easy simmer, v. the too-intense mouthfeel and character of a (lazy) rapid boiloff, etc. - rather than a rote replication of what I wrote and showed them. It was my deepest desire that they own their experience for themselves (the same for our front of house), by paying attention to the minutae of their senses. Once they "got" that, the craft of what we did, to the extent we had it, was built on some solid things, I would say. The desire to convey pleasure, through a deeply visceral and emotional connection to every stage of the process, the sense of "play," was built on a program of daily, orthodox discipline.

Actually, truth be told, I am all too fully aware the limitations of my ability when compared to the greatness of the raw materials I use, and the greatness of masters that preceed me or who now live to make their mark. I am embarrassed by the notion of inserting myself in too much between food and guest. I have heard it said that Andre Soltner once voiced: "There is no new food." From my personal framework, that is wholly true. I only offer my sensibilities, the fervent desire to master fundamentals, and the deep conviction that if I don't find a way to give this over, I might as well stay home.

Sorry for the rant. This is what we aimed for, anyway. I am reminded of Konstantin Stanislavsky (who I once played, in another iteration as an actor; I'm likely butchering it, it has been decades now): "There are great actors, and there are poor actors - but there are few truthful actors." Stanislavki was consumed with this same dilemma - waiting for the gods to strike down greatness, fine - but how to do it on a nightly basis?

or,

When I find a new or unusual ingredient, I tend to first think of the classic preparations and move from there. ...in the end, a lot depends on remembering your signature line, " Food should taste like what it is."

What TJ said.

Edited November 15, 2006 by paul o' vendange (log)

[Timh]

In our enoteca I feel a few responsibilities in deciding menu and feature plates. One is seasonality, another is authenticity(integrity,or in the spirit of the restaurant), and finally(or not) I imagine the primary player, and then switch focus to the garnish, usually the vegetable(s). I find the garnish to be the mule that really carries the "primary" ingredient. Overall, I try to challenge my guest with authenticity but comfort them with flavor, meaning I often test drive dishes as free tastes to regulars(they love the attention and the feedback is key). I am not of the current trend of avant garde cooking, but a student of the giants on whose shoulders I stand.

edited to add: per emotion, I chose to downsize to a 45 seater so that I could obsess over every single dish that goes out, . Actually, the obsessing starts with the deliveries, then the organization, always cleanliness, then the prep, and then the production. I exhausted myself in a high volume high profile Brasserie many yrs ago, flipping out on maybe 2 or 3 dishes out of 1000+ produced in a night, and accepted that I'm a small restaurant kinda cook.

Edited November 15, 2006 by Timh (log)

[Joisey]

1) Sound technique and good flavor

2) Hitting different parts of the palate

3) Texture contrast

4) Avoid cliche at all costs

5) Feasible to produce?

[bleudauvergne]

The most important driving factor in my cooking is the season. From there, there are different ways I approach the planning aspect. What signals I am picking up around me, ideas that come from other people, taste associations, yes, emotions, but also thinking about a kind of dish, and then adapting it to what's in season. One year later I often prepare dishes or even entire meals from soup to nuts I've felt particularly harmonized with the time and were succesful in that way. The themes themselves are often a source of inspiration and give a good base upon which to build. I guess you might say that these kinds of cycles are really my overall driving force.

I like to think about symbolism in food when I'm planning something special. When a meal is planned to celebrate an event, I put a lot more thought into the symbolic meaning. When I do, while I do think about color and texture and the various formal aspects of the food, I tend to lean more toward associations of things and their literal symbolic meaning, the egg, for instance, or the language of flowers, or ways to put messages into code, to transmit them as something that can be really charged with meaning, but for someone who doesn't see it, for it to be accepted at face value and really be enjoyed as good cooking.

[Catriona]

A mixture of seasonality, practicality and inspiration.

I wish I could write as eloquently about cooking as some of the others above, but this post, as much of my cooking, is limited by that scarce resource: time. One of my biggest challenges is to come home after a long day at work (I usually work from 7:30am to 6:30 or 7pm), and put together a healthy, tasty, appetising meal for my husband and I. He doesn't cook, but is more than willing to do the shopping on his way home. That's fine if I have something definite in mind, but otherwise I have to nip out at lunch and forage.

Perhaps a good illustration is the shopping I've just done for supper tonight. It's not going to be too late a night at work, I should get out of here about 6, which is good news.

I usually start with the "category" of meal that I want. Today it was fish, as I wanted something light, and my sushi lunch yesterday left me with a vague longing... There's a good fish shop a couple of minutes' walk from my office, where I know I'll get a good answer to my "what's good today" query.

So I started there, and found my favourite fishmonger filetting some sea bass. It's perfect for a meal like tonight - quick, light, tasty, with no indepth prep work required (otherwise I'd have bought it whole).

In search of a little bit of luxury, I also followed her suggestion and took 2 plump gambas each to be grilled as a starter.

Here comes practicality: I have 2 eggs left in the fridge from something I made last night, so I'll do a mayonnaise to have with the gambas (note to self: you forgot the mustard again, dumbo!).

Hop next door to the supermarket. It's always a compromise - good fish and crappy veg or the other way round... I can't manage both at lunchtime. Baby spinach caught my eye, and it'll serve as a nice bed for the fish, just wilted. Not very imaginative, but hey, I've been drafting leases all morning, give me a break. Practicality slaps me over the head reminding me that I have good carrots at home, so I'll do some caramelised carrots with that (husband's favourite, anything to win brownie points). Add in to that the good organic potatoes I have at home, and there's the guts of supper! I'll do a salsa verde type thing with some nice herbs to finish the fish nicely.

Afterwards, grapefruit and yogurt for something light and juicy.

Not terribly poetic, but knowing my target and combining the best of what's available today with the rest of what's in the fridge, within the time constraints.

[Mikeb19]

Flavours first, then texture.

Usually I'll start with 1 ingredient/flavour to be the focus of the dish, and add ingredients and flavours that will compliment the focus of the dish. Then comes texture - I decide on a preparation for each ingredient that I feel would best suit the ingredient as well as the dish as a whole.

I don't do garnishes... If I put something on a plate, I want it to be eaten, and to be an integral part of the dish.

As far as my cuisine 'style', I do what I know and understand. Ukrainian style food (not sure HOW authentic my cuisine is however, I'm 2nd generation living in N. America - might add that in my family theres a long line of great Ukrainian cooks, both professional and amateur). I'm also a food professional myself, working in fine dining restaurants.

[Busboy]

I think about this question a lot.  Often I want to create theatre on the plate and to reproduce things that I have seen in my travels for my guests.  I’m still a failure at getting that vertical salad presentation from Alfred Portale’s Gotham City Cookbook to work.

←

You may have tried it already, to no avail, but on many vertical preparations, the trick (I have heard, I'm strictly horizontal except for mashed potatoes) is to build the dish inside a length of fat PVC pipe, and then carefully remove the pipe.

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Boy, you guys are way too intellectual for me. I like to have a couple of glasses of wine on an empty stomach, grab the wife and wander around the market or the grocery store and see what jumps out at me -- Maybe a fish so fresh it needs to be slapped. Maybe a piece of beef so aged that it almost needs to embalmed. The last strawberries of the year. The first Meyer lemons. Fava or english peas so fresh that you bring a positive glee to the unsavory task of elbowing old ladies out of the way so you can grab the cutest and the best. Whatever the heck "this" is (veal breast? mung beans?) that looks good and we've never made.

And then, once the menu is begun, free associating from flavor to flavor and texture to texture as the brain and palate balance the meal without conscious thought. Something crunchy to go with the sorbet. Tart greens to go with the braised beef. A soup, because we haven't had one in too long and the bewintered body craves the miracle vitamins only warm soup provides. Something irresistable because it's on sale, we'll work that in when we get home. Fruit after a rich meal and chocolate after a lean one. Or both, because then we can have piort

And then off for some cheese. What's particularly runny today? Maybe something to melt on toast with soup. Or that gooey-looking Italian thing in the back, with the sheep and the cow on the wrapper. Sure, we'd love a taste...

(For more formal dinners, surround yourself with cookbooks and wine, and run through roughly the same process, using recipes instead of raw ingredients).

I don't like thinking too hard about dinner, I like flionging myself at it. I don't trust the application of intellectual rigor to food or to art or to love. I like it when guests call out of the blue or my son announcers his friends are staying for dinner, the wine fueled anarchy that ensues when six becomes ten and I like the dishes we have to improvise because the chicken can only be stretched so far.

There are too many rules in life already. This boy just wants to have fun.

[paul o' vendange]

I think about this question a lot.  Often I want to create theatre on the plate and to reproduce things that I have seen in my travels for my guests.  I’m still a failure at getting that vertical salad presentation from Alfred Portale’s Gotham City Cookbook to work.

←

You may have tried it already, to no avail, but on many vertical preparations, the trick (I have heard, I'm strictly horizontal except for mashed potatoes) is to build the dish inside a length of fat PVC pipe, and then carefully remove the pipe.

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Boy, you guys are way too intellectual for me. I like to have a couple of glasses of wine on an empty stomach, grab the wife and wander around the market or the grocery store and see what jumps out at me -- Maybe a fish so fresh it needs to be slapped. Maybe a piece of beef so aged that it almost needs to embalmed. The last strawberries of the year. The first Meyer lemons. Fava or english peas so fresh that you bring a positive glee to the unsavory task of elbowing old ladies out of the way so you can grab the cutest and the best. Whatever the heck "this" is (veal breast? mung beans?) that looks good and we've never made.

And then, once the menu is begun, free associating from flavor to flavor and texture to texture as the brain and palate balance the meal without conscious thought. Something crunchy to go with the sorbet. Tart greens to go with the braised beef. A soup, because we haven't had one in too long and the bewintered body craves the miracle vitamins only warm soup provides. Something irresistable because it's on sale, we'll work that in when we get home. Fruit after a rich meal and chocolate after a lean one. Or both, because then we can have piort

And then off for some cheese. What's particularly runny today? Maybe something to melt on toast with soup. Or that gooey-looking Italian thing in the back, with the sheep and the cow on the wrapper. Sure, we'd love a taste...

(For more formal dinners, surround yourself with cookbooks and wine, and run through roughly the same process, using recipes instead of raw ingredients).

I don't like thinking too hard about dinner, I like flionging myself at it. I don't trust the application of intellectual rigor to food or to art or to love. I like it when guests call out of the blue or my son announcers his friends are staying for dinner, the wine fueled anarchy that ensues when six becomes ten and I like the dishes we have to improvise because the chicken can only be stretched so far.

There are too many rules in life already. This boy just wants to have fun.

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I haven't posted on this, as I didn't want to say much more but rather hear from others...but I realize I convey an undue nod towards "emotionality." If most of my recipes, plate conceptions, menu/degustation conceptions will often start with some sort of "visceral" response to something, I must admit a very conscious intellectuality as well...if, for instance, I include the pomegranate glaze on a plate of venison rack, in drops and gently-stroked lines, as it sensually reminds me of pristine blood, I will also think very hard, strategically, on how I can best convey whatever impulse first brought me to something. Maybe, there is a triumvirate in place - an emotional or visceral impulse, an intellectual design, and a foundation of orthodoxy. Even these, though, are artificial distinctions. Many times, I will first consciously and intellectually wish to bring about something, and use other things to bear to flesh it out. On and on.

Edited November 17, 2006 by paul o' vendange (log)

[Busboy]

I think about this question a lot.  Often I want to create theatre on the plate and to reproduce things that I have seen in my travels for my guests.  I’m still a failure at getting that vertical salad presentation from Alfred Portale’s Gotham City Cookbook to work.

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You may have tried it already, to no avail, but on many vertical preparations, the trick (I have heard, I'm strictly horizontal except for mashed potatoes) is to build the dish inside a length of fat PVC pipe, and then carefully remove the pipe.

+++++

Boy, you guys are way too intellectual for me. ....

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I haven't posted on this, as I didn't want to say much more but rather hear from others...but I realize I convey an undue nod towards "emotionality." If most of my recipes, plate conceptions, menu/degustation conceptions will often start with some sort of "visceral" response to something, I must admit a very conscious intellectuality as well...if, for instance, I include the pomegranate glaze on a plate of venison rack, in drops and gently-stroked lines, as it sensually reminds me of pristine blood, I will also think very hard, strategically, on how I can best convey whatever impulse first brought me to something. Maybe, there is a triumvirate in place - an emotional or visceral impulse, an intellectual design, and a foundation of orthodoxy. Even these, though, are artificial distinctions. Many times, I will first consciously and intellectually wish to bring about something, and use other things to bear to flesh it out. On and on.

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I understand that you as a professional have a lot less leisure to wander aimlessly through farmer's markets and a lot more pressure to turn out a variety of consistently excellent products night after night, and I respect the vision you bring to your craft.

I cook in a way that brings me the most pleasure, from the moment I wake up hungry until the time I'm munching leftovers while doing the dishes. I'm pretty sure it's not for everyone -- it's been known to drive my wife to distraction -- but it works for me.

[Carrot Top]

Of course there's always the mix and match from the fridge and cupboards method, too.

Take everything out, place all over the countertops, mix and match as desired, cook and devour.

Works pretty good.