I love to cook, but recipes intimidate me. If you worked with me at a certain cupcake shop, you suffered many of my culinary failures. I had to redo multiple recipes several times. Cooking is indeed a science. My failures are truly an embarrassment for me as I am known for my cooking, but they come frequently if you give me written instructions to follow.
This may seem like a cop out, but I wonder if it has to do with my learning style. I grew up preferring not to measure, but to learn from trial and error. This is the easiest way for my mind to make those crucial connections. My parents when I was growing up also suffered through many horrible cooking experiments where I tried my hand at different regional cuisine and spice combinations. I cringe thinking back to the horrible dishes that they ate with a smile on their face, offered suggestions, and encouraged me to continue on. This is especially painful because my background is one defined by food. I am from New Orleans - one of the food capitals of the world.
My cousin teased me when I sent her my recipe for crawfish bisque. It involved "handfuls", "pinches", and a lot of things"to taste". That's my style. In my defense, I have to immerse myself in the taste, feel, and sight of food. Cooking requires a lot of physical involvement of the senses. My tummy rumbles thinking about smelling food on the stove top and adding spices in small increments to my dishes to achieve the perfect blend of flavors. If I were fastidious, I would document my food more diligently with photos and my processes. Alas, this is also my failure. I am hoping that I can turn some of that around.
French cooking is remarkably well known for its richness and blend of flavors. Creole and Cajun cooking is a derivative; thankfully, one that I can handle. Real French cooking scares me with its precision, high stakes, and temperamental qualities. When I think of real French cuisine, I think of two things. One is a quote from one of my all time favorite movies, Tampopo, when a homeless gourmet laments, "French cooking is a constant battle with burns!" in regards to a boeuf bourguignon that got a little charred. The other is Babette's Feast. We read the book and watched the film in a course I took, Studies in World Literature: Food for Thought. Babette makes an insanely rich (in every sense of the word) meal for her guests. The description of the dishes make your mouth water, and I desperately want to recreate them. These two fictions share a connection to me. For friends, I once prepared an "eat-along" dinner to Tampopo. I made dishes featured in the film and served them to my friends as they watched the film for the first time. I didn't document this or write my recipes... and surely, I could do it again with more precision. I will, one day. Which lends to the next. I would love to recreate and serve the dishes to the film Babette's Feast to friends. Despite my hesitation to attempt the difficult recipes, I will do it. Through my failures, I will become stronger and better. I will try not to be afraid. And maybe this time, I will actually take notes as I go along.
This may seem like a cop out, but I wonder if it has to do with my learning style. I grew up preferring not to measure, but to learn from trial and error. This is the easiest way for my mind to make those crucial connections. My parents when I was growing up also suffered through many horrible cooking experiments where I tried my hand at different regional cuisine and spice combinations. I cringe thinking back to the horrible dishes that they ate with a smile on their face, offered suggestions, and encouraged me to continue on. This is especially painful because my background is one defined by food. I am from New Orleans - one of the food capitals of the world.
My cousin teased me when I sent her my recipe for crawfish bisque. It involved "handfuls", "pinches", and a lot of things"to taste". That's my style. In my defense, I have to immerse myself in the taste, feel, and sight of food. Cooking requires a lot of physical involvement of the senses. My tummy rumbles thinking about smelling food on the stove top and adding spices in small increments to my dishes to achieve the perfect blend of flavors. If I were fastidious, I would document my food more diligently with photos and my processes. Alas, this is also my failure. I am hoping that I can turn some of that around.
French cooking is remarkably well known for its richness and blend of flavors. Creole and Cajun cooking is a derivative; thankfully, one that I can handle. Real French cooking scares me with its precision, high stakes, and temperamental qualities. When I think of real French cuisine, I think of two things. One is a quote from one of my all time favorite movies, Tampopo, when a homeless gourmet laments, "French cooking is a constant battle with burns!" in regards to a boeuf bourguignon that got a little charred. The other is Babette's Feast. We read the book and watched the film in a course I took, Studies in World Literature: Food for Thought. Babette makes an insanely rich (in every sense of the word) meal for her guests. The description of the dishes make your mouth water, and I desperately want to recreate them. These two fictions share a connection to me. For friends, I once prepared an "eat-along" dinner to Tampopo. I made dishes featured in the film and served them to my friends as they watched the film for the first time. I didn't document this or write my recipes... and surely, I could do it again with more precision. I will, one day. Which lends to the next. I would love to recreate and serve the dishes to the film Babette's Feast to friends. Despite my hesitation to attempt the difficult recipes, I will do it. Through my failures, I will become stronger and better. I will try not to be afraid. And maybe this time, I will actually take notes as I go along.
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