"I can't have you destroyin' the city, playin' by your own rules, Sagredo! We have the mayor to answer to! Not to mention the freakin' public!"
"The freakin' public wants that psycho son of a bitch killer off the streets, captain!"
"Not if you gotta take out half the town to do it! Look, I need your piece and your shield. You're suspended 'til further notice."
"Yeah? Here. Keep 'em. But know this: I'm gettin' justice for that little girl... one way, or another."
Oh, sorry. Thought I was a 1970s boilerplate cop drama screenwriter for a second there. Missed my calling. And my decade.
Anyhoo, we were talking about fresh, quality ingredients. We were discussing how knowing what to get and where to get it is the first rule of good cooking. We established, in my mind anyway, that the function of the cook is to accentuate the flavors and textures of the main ingredients such that there is either a primary star (think of a good steak) or a melange of flavors and textures in perfect balance (like our tomato and blue cheese salad dressed in olive oil and balsamic). Either way, the cook needs to stay out of the way and not over complicate things. The first secret to very good cooking is starting with good quality ingredients and not ruining them. Isn't this good news?
The second rule of good cooking is about balance and ratios. Sweet and sour. Sweet and spicy (piquant). Sweet and salty. Salty and bitter. Salty and sour. Sour and bitter. Fat and acid. Contrasting textures are also important: creamy, chewy, crunchy. Think of fish and chips, for one example. A perfectly cooked piece of cod or haddock is moist and firm but flaky on the inside, and golden-brown, crispy-crunchy on the outside. Those contrasting textures are what make it so much fun to bite into. And, of course, the fish is also seasoned with salt and doused with malt vinegar (or lemon if you must) providing another level of interest to your palette, salty/sour, and because the fillet was deep fried, the acid in the vinegar or lemon helps cut the oil that is lightly coating your mouth. All in perfect balance.
In this example, the principle of quality is still the dominant factor. You wouldn't bother trying to make fish and chips if you weren't starting with a lovely piece of very fresh fish, I hope. Just like you wouldn't make that tomato and blue cheese salad with under-ripe or over-ripe flavorless or mushy tomatoes. I realize that you need to manage your kitchen and try to use everything you buy. We wouldn't want to be wasteful. Professional kitchens do, too. Herbs that are slightly wilted make bouquets garnis or get chopped and added to stews or whizzed up in a blender with oil to make herb oils. Vegetables and fruits just slightly past their prime are similarly used in a secondary role. They might get cooked and canned, such as with fruit preserves. They might be used to make stocks.
It's not that restaurants serve rotten fruits and vegetables. I mean just not quite star-of-the-plate quality. You don't make hamburger out of beef tenderloin (unless it's for tar tare) and you don't throw delicate, fresh baby carrots into the stock pot. That would be a waste of quality and money. Similarly, you don't grill a chuck roast or use the week-old carrots with hair roots growing on them to make glazed carrots as your side dish. The carrots aren't rotten or bad for you. They're just not presentable. The chuck isn't bad. It's just not the sort of cut that makes a good grilled steak. It's a tougher cut that needs a long, slow cook time at a low temperature, preferably in some liquid like wine or stock or both (at least water), to break down the connective tissue and tougher muscle fibers. But it is so good when you do treat it right.
"I thought I said you were suspended! You're off this case, Sagredo!"
Let me sum up here because it looks like I'm rambling. In two words, the chief principles we've covered so far are quality and balance. A good piece of meat or fish doesn't need much else from you. Maybe a little salt and pepper and then the right amount of heat applied for the right amount of time. A New York strip steak, a pinch of salt, a pinch of pepper, a little chopped rosemary, a few drops of olive oil, and three minutes a side on a moderately hot grill and Bob's yer uncle. Quality came with the nice cut of beef you paid good money for. The balance comes in as you apply the seasoning. Salt is meant to coax out the natural flavor of whatever it touches, so your steak tastes steakier, but too much and it just tastes salty and inedible. A little pepper adds that capricious touch of piquancy here and there. But too much and that's all you taste. A little rosemary plays off of the earthy savoriness of the beef, but too much and it tastes like you're eating a pine tree. Quality and balance. Amen.
The second rule of good cooking is about balance and ratios. Sweet and sour. Sweet and spicy (piquant). Sweet and salty. Salty and bitter. Salty and sour. Sour and bitter. Fat and acid. Contrasting textures are also important: creamy, chewy, crunchy. Think of fish and chips, for one example. A perfectly cooked piece of cod or haddock is moist and firm but flaky on the inside, and golden-brown, crispy-crunchy on the outside. Those contrasting textures are what make it so much fun to bite into. And, of course, the fish is also seasoned with salt and doused with malt vinegar (or lemon if you must) providing another level of interest to your palette, salty/sour, and because the fillet was deep fried, the acid in the vinegar or lemon helps cut the oil that is lightly coating your mouth. All in perfect balance.
In this example, the principle of quality is still the dominant factor. You wouldn't bother trying to make fish and chips if you weren't starting with a lovely piece of very fresh fish, I hope. Just like you wouldn't make that tomato and blue cheese salad with under-ripe or over-ripe flavorless or mushy tomatoes. I realize that you need to manage your kitchen and try to use everything you buy. We wouldn't want to be wasteful. Professional kitchens do, too. Herbs that are slightly wilted make bouquets garnis or get chopped and added to stews or whizzed up in a blender with oil to make herb oils. Vegetables and fruits just slightly past their prime are similarly used in a secondary role. They might get cooked and canned, such as with fruit preserves. They might be used to make stocks.
It's not that restaurants serve rotten fruits and vegetables. I mean just not quite star-of-the-plate quality. You don't make hamburger out of beef tenderloin (unless it's for tar tare) and you don't throw delicate, fresh baby carrots into the stock pot. That would be a waste of quality and money. Similarly, you don't grill a chuck roast or use the week-old carrots with hair roots growing on them to make glazed carrots as your side dish. The carrots aren't rotten or bad for you. They're just not presentable. The chuck isn't bad. It's just not the sort of cut that makes a good grilled steak. It's a tougher cut that needs a long, slow cook time at a low temperature, preferably in some liquid like wine or stock or both (at least water), to break down the connective tissue and tougher muscle fibers. But it is so good when you do treat it right.
"I thought I said you were suspended! You're off this case, Sagredo!"
Let me sum up here because it looks like I'm rambling. In two words, the chief principles we've covered so far are quality and balance. A good piece of meat or fish doesn't need much else from you. Maybe a little salt and pepper and then the right amount of heat applied for the right amount of time. A New York strip steak, a pinch of salt, a pinch of pepper, a little chopped rosemary, a few drops of olive oil, and three minutes a side on a moderately hot grill and Bob's yer uncle. Quality came with the nice cut of beef you paid good money for. The balance comes in as you apply the seasoning. Salt is meant to coax out the natural flavor of whatever it touches, so your steak tastes steakier, but too much and it just tastes salty and inedible. A little pepper adds that capricious touch of piquancy here and there. But too much and that's all you taste. A little rosemary plays off of the earthy savoriness of the beef, but too much and it tastes like you're eating a pine tree. Quality and balance. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment