Process of Elimination
It doesn't happen very often, but when it does, it can be really frustrating. Perhaps you could call it the culinary equivalent of 'writer's block'. I'm confronted with an ingredient or a specific assignment and nothing comes. Sometimes my heart just isn't in it, or there's time pressure, or I'm simply distracted by a million other facets of daily work life. Usually, though, I think it's because there might be so many possible ways to approach an idea, that it can be difficult to focus in on only one. But honestly, in the realm of problems, that's a pretty good one to have!
I definitely believe in the old adage, that the more things you learn, the more you realize there are things you don't know. That is why, as I've written here many times, cooking is such an exciting pursuit. You'll never have seen or done it all; there will always be a new ingredient, tool, or technique to tuck inside your bag of tricks. But what happens when that bag starts to fill up? Nine times out ten, I find exactly what I'm searching for, but there is the odd chance of having to blindly claw my way through that sack of accumulated knowledge, looking for inspiration as if it were a set of misplaced house keys. I don't know why this happens, or if it even happens at all with other chefs. Deep in our brains, there probably is some intricate hardware that subconsciously sifts through all of that chatter automatically. I definitely think that cooking straddles that 'right brain'/'left brain' line- 'right brain' activity usually implies the artistic and spontaneous, whereas 'left brain' tends to mean a plotted, logical order. I believe you need to work both sides to be a successful cook, but maybe when the balance shifts, such creative blocks occur.
But I'm an 'order' kind of guy (I think most pastry chefs are), so I appreciate the many attempts at codification and formulas we've seen in recent years. I first noticed all the charts and graphs that appeared with the Adria brothers; I remember being intrigued by them when I opened Albert's pastry book all those years ago. And then neurologist-turned-chef Miguel Sanchez Romera unveiled his own scientific method of cooking, constructivism, when he wrote La Cocina De Los Sentidos. To this day, if I'm really stuck for a flavor pairing, I will still refer to Karen Page and Andrew Dornenberg's Culinary Artistry, for it's charts of common, and not so common, matches (an early idol of mine, Andrew MacLauchlan did something similar in his pastry-specific Making Of a Pastry Chef). The idea of documenting ingredients and techniques has always appealed to me. Ever since I began to use a computer, I've started and abandoned many attempts at assembling my own personal reference. Several months ago (the last time I had a few days off in a row), I finally sat down and constructed my own road map (a detail is pictured above) which could refer to in times of need. My aim was to think of every possible way to manipulate an ingredient. I admit that there might be some holes in it. But I also have to confess, that since putting it down on paper, I hardly look at the thing!
All of this has made me think a lot about the process of elimination, and how as chefs, what we choose to discard becomes as important as what we hold onto. I have increasingly come to see a dish much as I think a sculptor might see a block of marble. When you see a piece by Auguste Rodin, for example, you get a sense that he simply sought to free his subject matter from within the stone itself, chipping away to reveal its hidden truth. Cooking might also work as a similar, though not necessarily literal, subtractive method. I often find myself paring down a dish and its components until I'm left with what is truly essential. It's a difficult thing to do, and I sometimes have to fight my own ego along the way; not too long ago, we would boast at the number of ingredients and components we could cram onto a plate! I've often tried to compare the differences between the additive and subtractive approach through two of my favorite chefs: Pierre Gagnaire and Alain Passard. To use more overly simplistic artist analogies, perhaps Gagnaire is like Jackson Pollock, building up layer upon layer of drips and splashes, creating harmony out of apparent chaos. Passard on the other hand, reminds me more of Mark Rothko, creating sparse yet bold compositions using a minimal range of color and form. When done well, both can be exciting and beautiful. And coincidentally, if you ever make it to Passard's Arpege in Paris, the Rodin museum just so happens to lie directly across the street!
While I'm on the subject of process and refinement, I thought I'd also mention that I've had the recent pleasure of being a part of someone else's development. A new friend is starting to build a line of chocolates produced in Ecuador from its indigenous Arriba cacao. Just for fun, and for my quiet opinions, he began giving me samples from the very first batch. Seeing the progress over the last few months, I'm learning more about the growing and manufacturing process of chocolate, but I'm also amazed at how difficult it is to create a consistent product affected by so many variables. The strain of bean, the growing altitude, the fermenting and drying, the roasting and processing: they all determine the the character, handling, and subtle trajectories of flavor in the finished bar. Such a product always has an interesting story behind it, and that it is a labor of love makes it all the more special.
In addition to the test batches of chocolate, I've also been given a few other fun products to taste and play with. Along with some nice Ecuadorian coffees and some tasty whole cacao beans coated with crunchy sugar, I was most impressed with a licor de cacao. As best as I can tell, it appears to be little more than an alcohol base infused with cacao, vanilla, and various flavorings, and commonly homemade. I only had a small amount to work with, but dosing the spirit into a simple ganache which was then rolled into truffles proved amazing, intensifying the flavor of the chocolate.
I'm not posting a recipe today, but I will offer my 'Index' as a download. Like I said, as an academic exercise, I think it covers the bases, but I'd be interested in hearing of any methods considered to be missing!
Hi Michael,
Thanks to a Google News Alert, we were glad to read this morning that our book CULINARY ARTISTRY (1996) still comes in handy for you when brainstorming classic flavor matches!
Grant Achatz of Alinea cited CULINARY ARTISTRY as his "most-used cookbook" in a Chicago magazine interview: http://www.chicagomag.com/Chicago-Magazine/November-2006/Chicagos-Best-Chefs/The-Innovators/
And reading about THE MAKING OF A PASTRY CHEF (1999) was a blast from the past -- we'd met author Andrew McLauchlan when we shared the same publisher.
You yourself made an important contribution to our next book (that chronicles modern flavor matches) THE FLAVOR BIBLE: The Essential Guide to Culinary Creativity, Based on the Wisdom of America's Most Imaginative Chefs (Little, Brown; September '08). We promise you one of the very first copies off the press this fall!
All the best to you and Heather,
Karen & Andrew
P.S. More on THE FLAVOR BIBLE: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0316118400/becominachef0d
Posted by: Andrew Dornenburg and Karen Page | June 16, 2008 at 08:01 AM
Hi Michael... excellent observation on the characteristic differences found in the cacao liquor. I have dear friends on the big island of Kona who regularly send me beans allowing me to ferment, cure, dry & conch small batches of this elixir of the gods. I realize unique flavor profiles depending on the time of the harvest, length of cold fermentation as well as the intensity of the drying period. Charts and graphs are an integral part of the process, that is to say without them I would be left relying upon my taxed brain, not a bad thing but nonetheless not always accurate. Thanks again for the stimuliā¦
Posted by: Denis | June 16, 2008 at 03:31 PM
Hey Michael, I see you got your mosaic code.
Posted by: Dr. Acula | June 28, 2008 at 06:12 PM
Yes, and my apologies to Grant and the Alinea team for waiting for so long. For those unaware, pre-ordering Alinea's forthcoming book allows access to a special site containing bonus material and some interesting forum discussion: http://www.alineamosaic.com/mosaic/ is the URL to get involved.
Thanks also to Karen and Andrew for the update on their next book as well. It looks like Autumn will be a great season for new reading material!
Posted by: Michael Laiskonis | June 28, 2008 at 08:15 PM