by Buck Reed
A Cook’s Efforts
If I had to label myself as a cook, I am afraid I would have to call myself “old school.” I get that sous vide and plates laden with foam are the wave of the future (For my readers who are interested in these techniques, I am currently working on articles that might explain them, but probably will not encourage you to try them.) And I understand that people are going to pay big bucks for a tiny portion of dishes dedicated to these techniques. And I get that the chefs and line cooks who prepare this food are extremely talented and dedicated professionals, changing the landscape of what fine cuisine is going to be. But it just isn’t for me. It isn’t the food I want to eat and it isn’t the food I want to make.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not too old to learn. The world hasn’t quite passed me by yet. I respect these guys immensely, but it all feels like they are just doing what I call “throwing tricks” at their customers. It all seems like it is all hinged on plate presentation and manipulating the ingredients with stabilizers.
Most of the professional cooking groups I have joined seemed to be filled with members that want to complain about food service business. They would rather talk about the long hours, the small pay checks, and, yes, even the customers. I didn’t stay long. But the one that I have stuck with is about the food and, sometimes, even about how to make the food better. There are people who do the Michelin star plate presentations for us to critique, and I tend to stay away from those posts. My people are the ones who ask or share ideas on how to create great food from simple ingredients. These guys and gals know that any fool can cook up a piece of tenderloin and make a meal from it; but, if you want something amazing, give me a person who can cook a nice brisket. It takes time, patience, and, more importantly, a lot of knowledge to make that piece of meat into a memorable meal. I will pick the person who can put that together any day and twice on Sunday.
Many cooks today would hear me talk about all the time I put into learning how to cook perfect oatmeal and think I am wasting my time. But, like anything else, it took me time to research it and then practice it until I got it just right. Now, when I ask a cook to make me oatmeal, I don’t care if they put caramelized apples or candied walnuts in it. If the oatmeal isn’t cooked right and, more importantly, if they have no interest in learning the right way, then I have no real use for them. And, since I know how to cook oatmeal perfectly, I have a pretty good idea of how to cook most any other grain perfectly as well.
So please show me that picture of a beautiful plate of meticulously arranged food. You will probably not get me to critique it or even coax a comment on how nice it is. But, I may ask you to explain how you made one component of your dish. And please feel free to elaborate every detail. I will make the time.
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