Tuesday, January 22, 2013

On Adventures in Cooking



People often travel to foreign countries, go backpacking, or conduct science experiments to enjoy the fear and excitement that comes from exploring new vistas.  For me, such experiences hold more fear than excitement and more discomfort than enjoyment; instead, I find my preferred mix of these sensations by trying new recipes in the kitchen.
                As when taking a trip, embarking upon a new recipe involves risk; a failure could waste time and ingredients, but a success could widen one’s repertoire of healthful dishes and introduce a new source of olfactory and gustatory delight.  (Such a fun word, gustatory!)  While recommendations and clear directions may ease our concern somewhat, differences in personal taste keep us slightly on edge, as does the newness of the process, knowing that we might misinterpret some vital instruction, that a substitution for an unusual ingredient may not work quite right, or that our off-brand products could throw off the taste or texture.  I failed horribly when I attempted to make flaky croissants—perhaps I needed more butter between the layers—and my tough jelly-filled pastries weren’t anything like I expected.  I haven’t attempted to make them since, but I have continued to branch out in other respects.  Learning to make tamagoyaki—a sweet-and-savory rolled omelet—was a stimulating challenge, especially the novel technique of cooking with chopsticks as my sole utensil.  I still find the challenge of rolling the omelet without tearing the layers quite invigorating, and it’s been a great success with my husband.
Just as the risks change whether one ventures into the next town verses the next country, trying variations on familiar recipes feels far more comfortable than trying completely unfamiliar dishes—especially when we’ve never tasted the dish prepared by a professional.   Since I dislike the texture of eggs, I’ve never tasted the aforementioned tamagoyaki, so making it for my husband was doubly risky, and I was prepared to throw it out if he disliked it.  On the other hand, I can usually see just from reading the recipe whether we’ll like a new variation on familiar dishes like meatballs or stroganoff; I can be sure of its being tasty and only risk its being slightly less tasty than our usual recipes. 
A traveler may accidentally take the “scenic route” and discover something great, and in the same way, a cook may accidentally make a cooking mistake and invent a delightful concoction.  The error may come in many ways; I’ve sometimes started a recipe only to find out I’m out of this ingredient or that.  Other times, I have misread tsp and TBSP or mixed up the directions and realized the mistake a moment after the error had become irreversible.  Attempts to use substitutions or re-purpose ingredients for a different recipe have at times necessitated regrettable wastefulness, but at other times they’ve created a surprisingly pleasant product.  For instance, I accidentally doubled certain ingredients and not others while making chicken pot pie but, realizing it tasted a bit like I imagined a nicely thick potato soup would, I experimented by adding water, potatoes, celery, and other such ingredients, and decided I rather liked the effect.  It has needed very little adjustment since that first attempt, and I still enjoy making (and eating!) it every now and then. 
In a similar deviation from established recipes, like any scientist in a lab or artist in a studio, I’m sure every experienced cook has experimented in the kitchen.  We wonder, “is this step really necessary?” or “how would adding this ingredient or changing the timing alter the outcome?”  Our experiments lead us to discover the effects of baking powder, soda, eggs, and various fats, and to learn what temperatures will cook a certain food thoroughly without drying or burning.  This knowledge makes future experiments more successful as we understand what combinations will create which effects.  Further study in books or by word of mouth teach us techniques with foil and forks and the like that help us make an experimental recipe more successful.  It was in this way, by experimenting, that I taught myself to make a lovely clear soup out of whatever I have on hand or whatever combination strikes my fancy—vegetables, chicken, noodles or rice, and so on—and I can mix and match spices to complement the main ingredients with increasing success.  Similarly, I once had some leftover sopapilla dough and decided to experiment with making baklava based only on my rudimentary knowledge that it comprised layers of paper-thin pastry separated by butter and honey and cinnamon.  The baked result wasn’t baklava—not nearly as thin, flaky, or sticky sweet—but it did taste rather good, and I wouldn’t be adverse to making it again.  
Other times, experimentation comes out of necessity rather than curiosity: I had to experiment with the way I made nikumanji (meat buns) so that the buns wouldn’t stick to the bamboo steamer and tear open when removed; little squares of wax paper underneath each bun keeps them intact and still allows the steam to reach each one.  Similarly, my first attempts at frying spring rolls and sopapillas were generally successful but required some experimentation with the heat, timing, and methods of retrieval from the oil to get the best result.  Despite the challenge (or in addition to the challenge), watching the sopapillas rise and the pastry's color change remains a rather fun experience.

What does all this say about those who find such wonder in the kitchen?  That we’re domestic?  That we’re easily pleased?  That our world is small and cramped?  The former two may have merit, and I consider them positive traits in any person.  However, the latter cannot necessarily be true since cooks, like any other person, may extend their delight of exploration to other fields.  Even if they are homebodies, though, in the same way we take vicarious adventures while reading books, cooks can vicariously experience the practices of foreign kitchens and explore the tastes of different cultures.  This, and the natural desire to feed other people with the product of our labor, gives us cause to expand our "cramped" world.  Thus, if other forms of exploration don’t lie within our budget or interests, instead, we can expand our experiences by diving into new forms of cooking.  Each discovery of a culinary treasure among the flood of recipes will make it worth the risk and effort!

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