Knowing When To Shut Up

 

 The kitchen is often a noisy place. It takes a fair amount of experience and prolonged immersion in such an environment to truly hear what’s happening, to parse the static of conversation, the hum of equipment and clanging of pots, the punctuated yells. A degree of sensory overload can overcome you; I find the less I add to the cacophony, the better I am at processing all that information. Being quiet allows one to feel the underlying rhythm of the kitchen. And, of course, the less of our own energy we project outward, the more we can harness that energy and focus it inward. Rather than release it into the air, we ultimately try to put that energy onto the plate. In other words, sometimes it’s best to shut up and just ‘do it’.

 

It’s a safe bet that when I’m not actually writing myself, the balance of my time is spent absorbing the output of others. Sometimes it’s best to be quiet for a while and just listen. For sure, the last few months have offered a ton of thought, research, and inspiration from a lot of different sources. One can easily get self absorbed, or at the very least, lose proper perspective if that flow of information and ideas is limited to just one direction. And of course, there is just so much out there to learn and discover.

 

 

If there’s an inherent problem in discovery, it’s simply finding the time to sift through all the material that interests me, and from there, summoning the discipline to channel that into the kitchen, or into a piece of writing. As much as I would love to be a full-time student- sheer knowledge in and of itself a great thing- the power comes from applying that knowledge. And one thing always happily leads to another and another.

 

There’s also a responsibility that comes with knowledge: the duty to share. That’s where these blogs fit in, but it’s also the one-on-one interaction and exchange of ideas and techniques. And that can be the most rewarding- both being able to help out others, but also being humble enough to ask advice of others, too.

 

 

 

Anyway, here’s just a small taste of some recent food for thought...

 

I sort of dropped the ball by not writing in a timely manner about Michael Ruhlman’s latest book a few months back when it was new and shiny. But I still think Ratio is great. It’s useful to professionals, of course, but in my opinion, it should also be required reading for serious home cooks. The genius idea of thinking in terms of ratios- rather than recipes- is that the cook is forced to contemplate the functions of ingredients and the relationships between them, and how they affect the final outcome. Important stuff, indeed.

 

When Dave Arnold told me back in May that he and Nils Noren were about to launch a blog, I knew it would be good. What I didn’t realize is that Cooking Issues would be an amazing resource, both in the breadth of subject matter, and the depths to which those topics are mined. Whether the destination is do-it-yourself rotovap construction, the Japanese fish-killing art of ike jime, or some point in between, the dynamic duo at New York’s French Culinary Institute humbly educate, entertain, and enlighten along the way. Best of all, they don’t take themselves too seriously; a visit to their lab usually involves a shot... or three.

 

Speaking of progressive culinary educators, another cool blog surfaced earlier this year, courtesy of Francisco Migoya, pastry instructor at the CIA. The Quenelle conveys both a thoughtfulness and a sense of play that are inspiring. I don’t know him well, but despite his impressive pedigree, not to mention the seriousness with which he tackled ice cream and frozen desserts, one can’t help but assume that he’s simply having a blast exploring new ideas, techniques, and presentations. And because we don’t normally associate forward-thinking with formal culinary education, his work is all the more special. Though it’s not due out until early next year he generously shared with me the galleys of his next book, The Modern Café. All I can say is that you will want to own it. Trust me.

 

Hot on the heels of his last English translation, Building a Meal, Hervé This is rolling out another, to be released next week. This latest collection of writings, The Science of the Oven, opens with the question, “What is cooking?”, and the short bursts of theory and research that follow explore the answers from every possible angle. As the poster boy for ‘molecular gastronomy’, This invites a fair amount of criticism from both chefs and scientists. But I enjoy his work, because I always find myself asking more questions, and that’s always a good thing. I’ve just begun spending time with this newest book, but perhaps the most interesting section is the glossary, and how he addresses terminology in an approach not unlike his culinary ‘precisions’. Perhaps in response to the controversy surrounding ‘molecular gastronomy’ itself, he begins with its definition and goes from there. For example, he posits that ‘sweet,’ as a definition, doesn’t truly exist. This notion of a common culinary/scientific language is interesting to a lot of us who sometimes bend that line that separates kitchen and laboratory. Recommended, for sure.

 

 

 

 

I haven’t yet had a chance to see his latest book, but I did have the pleasure of attending a rare US appearance by neurologist-turned-chef, Miguel Sanchez Romera. The presentation, hosted by Culintro, allowed a glimpse into Romera’s philosophy and his restaurant, L’Esguard, on the outskirts of Barcelona. He’s a passionate and enthusiastic speaker, even if I didn’t fully grasp all that he tried to put forth. Perhaps most exciting is the fact that we’ll soon be seeing him here in New York a bit more often; plans are well under way for his new downtown restaurant, MSR, which is slated to open sometime next year.

 

Another rare treat was getting up close to one of my longtime idols, Pierre Gagnaire. Thanks to Starchefs, last month’s annual International Chef’s Congress also tapped the likes of Arzak and Torreblanca, in addition to more than a dozen of the most innovative chefs in our own country. It’s always an energizing couple of days, seeing that much culinary talent in one room. And though I usually end up working to some extent on both sides of the curtain, not to mention running back to the restaurant every few hours, I probably got to take in more of the program than in years past. The most exciting demo came from Chris Young and Dr. Nathan Myhrvold of Intellectual Ventures in Seattle. Culling ideas they’re assembling for an upcoming book, Young and Myhrvold presented a unique marriage of haute cuisine and science, taking things to a whole new level. I can’t wait to see the final package; it’s going to be good.

 

On the technical side, I’ve also spent a good deal of time and effort doing pure, hard research. Milk and dairy products have become a minor obsession, and among all of the materials I’ve combed, few can beat the reference offered by the University of Guelph in Ontario, Canada. Their website is one-stop shopping in the realm of dairy science, covering everything from basic composition to ice cream to industrial processing. To paraphrase a computer advert I saw recently, ‘Our rock stars aren’t like your rock stars’. As far as I’m concerned, Professor Doug Goff is a rock star to a chef like me. Bookmark it.

 

I’ve also had my head buried in some things not altogether related to cooking.  As part of Menus in the Media, an NYU ‘think tank’ assembling all kinds of smart people, from chefs and food writers to historians and sociologists, I’ve been asked to respond to an upcoming lecture given by Richard Sennett. Truly amazing. I’ve written about Sennett, and his book The Craftsman, once before. As I put together my own thoughts, I’m looking at his work, and that of others, trying to get at the heart of what the craft of cooking offers me on a personal level, and how that craft might fit in to society at large.

 

Ultimately, I always embrace the pride that comes in working with my hands, the act of creating, and the quest to do better. But the real inner satisfaction from cooking is the chance to be quiet, to let the ingredients speak, to allow the technique to evolve and take over, and, well, to just do it.

 

 

Comments

[Natalie Sztern]

Michael I have just one question for you. How do you manage it all?

It has been my short-lived experience writing a blog that it is impossible, not virtually impossible, but impossible to work full-time, write a blog, keep up with current books and reading and reading other blogs to be in the know AND I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL FOOD PERSON....Not to mention social outlets (i've given up on those if I want to stay married)

The internet has become a curse. It is no longer a pleasure

[Rebecca Varidel]

Cooeee Michael,

I found your blog through Twitter (I'm @frombecca) and really enjoyed this piece.

Would love it if you took a look at my blog www.insidecuisine.com (or even did a guest post - to date it features our AUSSIE CHEFS)

The internet is the most wonderful place where we are building global communities of interests!

[carri]

Marcel Marceau said "It is good to shut up sometimes." In many cases I think he may be right, in yours, I think, perhaps, he is not.

[Francisco Migoya]

Hey chef
Thanks for the shout out!
Best,
F. Migoya

[summer]

:)

[andre de waal]

The last paragraph really struck a chord for me, thanks.

[Nancy Geaney]

Are you doing your photography? Lovely photos. And writing...

[A. Mavridis]

i love the first and last paragraphs :) (and of course the whole entry) as that is pretty much how i enjoy working in the kitchen myself most of the times, along with the stupidity that goes on that most people would not understand hehe...
when i own my own establishment in the future i plan on having a little handbook for my chefs and i will have something along the those line written in it somewhere, or i might just blow it up and stick it on everyones clip boards so they can see it every day....
Love you work!!

[J. Briggs]

It's always a pleasure to read these blogs. Your words are so inspiring and motivating.