Things I Learned

 

It's been nearly a year and thirty-something posts since I began this project last January. It's something I've put a fair amount of work into, and like all worthwhile endeavors, I've learned a few things in process. In the spirit of all the annual top ten lists that tend to surface this time of year, I offer you Ten Things I Learned While Doing The Blog Thing...

1. Writing is hard.

Just like chocolate work, or dicing a brunoise, or even expediting the pass, you're only good at writing if you practice it on a regular basis. I think the writing here has gotten better with each post; for sure, the process feels less daunting and takes far less time than it used to. Carrying around a few small notebooks has helped- I find myself writing all the time, in all kinds of situations. If I have a spare moment, I'm probably scribbling something or other (This very paragraph is being written in between orders during a busy December dinner service). Difficult as it is at times, it has become part of my daily routine; whether or not what comes out is worthy of a Pulitzer, at least it keeps my thoughts organized. I've probably written more in the last year alone than in all my years since high school. I like it.

2. Photography is hard.

In an effort to give this thing some measure of visual appeal, I knew from the start that I would try to incorporate as much photography as possible. That forced me to very quickly come up to speed in a digital way. Virtually every image you see was captured in our pastry kitchen, with a pretty basic point-and-shoot. The upside is that it hopefully offers a close-to-real-time glimpse into our world. The downside is that the lighting in that kitchen is horrible. I would love to be including more shots of finished dishes and the steps that comprise them, but they just never come out very well, despite all the fussing about Adobe allows me to do. Instead, what you see are little details and hints of still-life. I had always meant to purchase or construct some sort of lighting rig, but I still haven't made it that far down the to-do list. But like writing, I haven't done much photography in the last fifteen years, so it's good to get back into it.

3. Keep your promises.

That's good advice for life in general, but when you promise something to the electronic masses, you'd better deliver. Whether it's a pledge to put up a recipe or simply post with a predictable regularity, people will hold you to it. My apologies to those who've gently harassed me to complete the things that I started but never circled back to. As for posting more often, I wish I was able to, but hopefully what I do eventually put up is worth the wait. I've always been more concerned with quality rather than quantity.

4. Choose your words carefully.

Of course, it's important to bear in mind that what is written is out there for everyone to see. Unlike a lot media, you can of course change and alter blog material, or even delete it altogether. Yet it's important to choose your words carefully, to remember that on any given day hundreds of readers from all corners of the globe will lay eyes on them. It's sobering, actually. And there is a fine line separating what is appropriate for the public, and what should remain private. It reinforces my belief that in all situations, in personal conversation and on the expanse of the internet, if you talk shit, it will eventually come back to bite you. Not that I've been bitten, I'm just all the more conscious of it.

5. The process.

Maybe this isn't something I learned, as much as it is something I confirmed about myself. I'm rarely satisfied with first drafts of anything, whether it be a paragraph or a plated dessert. I depend on revision. In writing and cooking, I'm always tweaking, tasting/proofreading, fiddling with things until I'm sick of looking at them. Some people prefer to work instinctively; they think it, write it down, and they're done. For me, writing and pastry are very malleable things. And even when I think it's finished, I step away only to return to find all the tiny but glaring typos and nonsensical grammar. If you've been one who's caught a piece within a few minutes of posting, you probably thought that I was an idiot.

6. The importance of community.

For a while, my opinion of internet 'communities' had sunk pretty low, mostly due to the prevalence of so much anonymously posted negativity and ignorance. And unless you know exactly where to look, trying to find clarity among all of the static can be pretty frustrating. Jumping into this process myself, joining the recent surge of food centric blogs- many by other like-minded professionals- I've begun to warm up to the idea of cyber-connection. By planting my flag into the ether, I've had the opportunity to 'meet' and interact with a great number of folks tuned into the same wave length. And all of that shared experience and exchange of information is inspiring. If anything, it shows how the world has indeed become a much smaller place.

7. Pay attention to what others are saying.

With the proliferation of all these blogs, it's not surprising to see a fair amount of repetition in subject matter. Granted, what makes them all unique are the voices and personalities behind them. But it helps to stay current with what others are saying. At one point, months ago, I was going to do a thing on gelatin filtration. "No one has really said much about this before," I thought to myself. It was a good thing that I did a quick Google search first, where I found Harold McGee's article in the New York Times and about a million references to it. Just because you haven't seen it, doesn't mean that it isn't already out there.

8. The 'new' media is pretty cool.

While I'd hate to consider the disappearance of traditional media altogether, the blog process has deepened my appreciation for where we can go with the 'new' forms. There is that static, and the democratic nature of the internet can be a double-edged sword, but as a tool for research, communication, and expression, it's all rather exciting. Though sometimes you might want to pause it in order to fully digest everything, the volume and speed at which creative things are happening in our industry alone is unprecedented. In terms of the blog format itself, I'm eager to do more with it. While the familiar templates are comforting in a sense, the sameness of everything can be a drawback. But there is so much to incorporate into it. Do I add video, should I Twitter, is it a good idea to affiliate myself with this or that network- these are all questions I wouldn't have conceived of a year ago. Though sometimes I step back and see Orwellian elements to it all, it's cool stuff.

9. I cook differently.

Early on, I had hoped that this project of writing about what we do would in turn enrich what we do. It certainly has, so much so that it occasionally turns into a chicken-or-egg question. Did I just write about something we did, or did we do that so I could write about it? There are times that I did cure bouts of writer's block by playing around for no other purpose than to conjure up material. Sometimes it benefited the menu, and sometimes it didn't. Of course, there are also things we've done that would have been forgotten about had there not been a convenient means to record them. But yes, the blog has in some ways changed the way we operate, whether it's that focus on documentation, or simply organizing our actions and tightening our standards in such a way that leaves less room for error. And it has also added to my work load, with media opportunities and side projects, the Gourmet gig being just one of them. Opening up the door and allowing for interaction has also affected us, heightening our self-awareness. Though I've risked vulnerability in 'putting myself out there', the overwhelming positive response has only made us stronger.

10. Things evolve.

About thirty seconds after completing that very first post, before anyone knew to look for it, I sent it out to a handful of people I trust for feedback. One of the initial bits of wisdom returned was to recognize the fluid nature of blogging. You may intend for it to be one thing, but it may likely morph into something else entirely. And in my case, it certainly has.

So what did I want it to be? Many things, I guess. It all started about a year ago, probably to the day. Eric Ripert and I were sitting in the office, reflecting on the busy year behind us, and contemplating the one that lay ahead. At one point he said, "Michael, you should do a blog. It could be cool." Well, of course I should! I began to think about it, finished the last few weeks of the busy season, then went right to it. But was it supposed to be a marketing tool? A catalog of ideas? A diary? Sure, why not.

I do know that it was initially aimed at both the seasoned pro and amateur cook alike, with content that would hopefully appeal to both. That's difficult to do, and as time went on, things started to drift further into the esoteric stuff. Though a fair amount of readers dropped off at that point, they were replaced by twice that many more. I also strove to maintain a consistent format: a story, a real life application, a recipe, supporting images. But that formula would at times impede the process. Those lengthy breaks of more than a couple weeks between posts? That was due to one part of the rigid equation remaining unfinished. I finally decided it was better to keep things fresh, even if it wasn't a complete 'package'. And then the tone slowly changed, too; recently it's veered away from technique and more into philosophy.

While I tried to set high standards for myself at the outset, I'm glad that I also allowed some room to breathe, to let it evolve.

***
 

So, does all this have an air of finality? Well, it may indeed be a eulogy. It's been a year, and though a great one with a lot to show for it, I may stop the blog. Maybe it's time to take stock and see what other directions it can take. Or, you may check back tomorrow to see that I've put up something new. I'm not sure yet.

I did decide a couple of months ago to take on a much larger project. I'm banging it out, slowly but surely. Just the other day, I read this sentence at the end of Albert Adria's Natura:

When other professionals say the magic words to me: "I'm going to write a book", I tell them that the life of a professional is a gun with six bullets and writing a book means letting off one of them, so it is important to make the most of the situation and throw yourself into the project in order to give it your best shot.

Perhaps the blog is that bullet. Or because the blog has been so instrumental in realizing a potential book, maybe continuing on with it would help inform and guide the process for the book I'd like to write. Either way, something will surface. It may be different words in a different place, or just more of the same. As for content already here, I think it may be a useful resource to some people, so I won't mess around with it.

Thanks for reading. Here's to many more happy days.

 

Comments

[carri]

Michael, I think you hit the nail on the head about the sense of community and the bringing of the world to your doorstep through blogging about what we do. It has changed how I look at writing and also how I think about my reach from my little bakery in Alaska to the rest of the world...my thanks to you for helping forge the way for the rest of us! And from one Michigander to another...best of luck to you in all your endeavors...whatever they may be!

[Sharon]

I have never commented on this blog, but I feel the need to comment now and encourage you to keep writing--not only for yourself, but for us! You are one of the best writer-chef's I've seen out there (published or not), and I really hope that you continue writing for the rest of us who may not have a chance to eat in your restaurants or interact with you through other means because a peek into your world and your mind is fascinating and worthwhile for me.

Thanks for the hard work--we see it and appreciate it, especially in this age of "new media" with way too much careless writing. When quantity wins the battle every time, discovery of quality becomes just that much more precious.

[Athena Lam]

Michael,

I stumbled upon your blog thanks to a recommendation of your "From There to Here" post on Aki Kamozawa and Alexander Talbot's "Ideas in Food". They said read it - not skim it. So your page sat on my computer opened, unread for about a week until I finally felt up to actually committing more than 5 minutes on an article. Every minute was worth it.

You said you don't know whether you've improved, but one of the reasons I am guaranteed to read every single one of your blog articles, rather than skim or skip, is precisely because it's different: a combination of informative (to cooking, ingredients, and restaurant kitchens) and insightful without being overbearing or arrogant. You make every line count, and that is so rare.

I loved this piece, just as I do any other one, particularly because I came to the same conclusions through totally different means (badminton and program organizing). It's always heart warming to know that someone who has achieved can come back to the same core values. And of course, it's wonderful to have a merger of those values with one of the loves of my life: food.

Whatever you choose to do in the future, I wish you the best and look forward to seeing it happen! I know you'll strive for quality performance, personally and for all the others you will be affecting.

Sincerely,
- Athena

[tulip]

I have really enjoyed reading this blog Michael and I have really learned a lot from your writing. From kitchen dynamics to sorbet I have been informed and engaged. Thank you and I look forward to your continuing words wherever I may find them!

[Ted Niceley]

I'm looking forward to a book AND a blog!
Michael, thanks for always being an inspiration, to me and I'm sure many, many others.
For the philosophy as much as the recipes ( BTW, I'm "borrowing about 90% of that condensed milk ice cream recipe :-) ) , all of it.
I was thinking while I was reading this morning, "does Turkell do all of these cool photos?"
Best
Ted

[Dad]

I have to confess that I have not read every single installment of your blog, but there are several that have been read many times and passed on to others.

I was convinced from the opening paragraph of your first post that these were destined to be chapters in a book of some sort. Now that you have decided to take that step, a very public "job well done." You seem to have fused writing and art into your profession in a way that most other people can not come close to doing.

I've been your biggest fan, even from back in the days when you vowed you would NEVER have an occupation that was connected with food. Never say never, dude.

[Jeremy]

Michael, I don't know how many times I have considered writing some "shit", fortunately my co-producer only lets me write, then he edits, then I go back and check his words and see if it jibes with what I mean.
Your blog is definite quality stuff, thank you for sharing, it's rare for pastry chef, or chefs for that matter, and of course I was humbled and delighted when you podcasted on my site!
Please reconsider shutting down, there will be so many of us addicted who won't be able to withdraw, there is no Laiskonithon is there????

Cheers and happy holidays!
Chef Ripert, please do an interview with me?????(begging on my knees)

[quizmad]

I am one of your fans. Your blog is very useful for me and I enjoy reading every page. I've learned a lot from you.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you and your family.

[dra[kk]o]

Has been a great pleasure following your blog during the last months. Being a programmer and a amateur cook, I sincerely enjoy the interesting part of the internet community.

Your reflections will be missed if you decide to stop blogging, but if you need larger, different or simply other endeavors… go for them. Simply keep up posted about what your plans are and what are our options to get in touch with you and your thoughts.

Reading your blog has enriched my thinking about so many fields, that I can only say thank you.

I hope that I will have the opportunity to taste your work in the near future, either as chef or as writer, or any other thing that you want to explore.

Happy holidays from south america

[brilynn]

I arrived at your blog months ago via the wonderful Dorie Greenspan and I've thoroughly enjoyed reading it. I look forward to reading more from you, be it in blog or book form.

[Greg]

Michael - thanks. I think there is this parallel between your plating, and your writing. A sense of balance, perhaps, and proportion.

I've found your work helpful while food is a hobby for me, themes you've brought out have highlighted and fueled discussion on my PhD, in an unrelated field, on the other side of the world.

But I've picked up a few culinary tricks at the same time!

I hope we can eat together one day,
Greg.

[adey]

Merry Christmas Michael. Thank you for the recipes you sent me earlier in the year. Your blog is stellar as are you.
Cheers mate,
have a great new year,
Adey

[Jill Budzynski]

Just a hello from Custer, MI. BTW, your grandfather Stanley is very proud of you and talks about you all the time. He calls us when you are on IronChef and we just stumbled upon your blog. Your work is awesome. Lithuania would also be proud if they knew more about you!
Cheers!

[S J]

I have just stumbled upon your site this evening, as I sit in our home in Switzerland. I hope you continue to write. Maybe it's for selfish reasons. If I only just found your site, how can you stop now? You are certainly different from the others I have read. You have a precision that is uncommon, and an honest approach to your writing that speaks of wanting to be better at what you do. Inspiring really. So, as you mentioned, your writing can find people in all corners of the world, and you have just been found here.