Why do we like or dislike things when we go out to a restaurant? Why are some great and some mediocre? Why are some reasons for liking a meal as ludicrous as some for not? The main thing, with even the most adventurous eaters, is familiarity.
A few years back a friend made me a pork ragu. Knowing I don't love pasta, he gave me a fresh baguette from an exceptional baker to accompany it. I went home, heated it up and dug in. Devouring every last bit of both. Without a doubt, the best meat sauce or bolognese I'd ever had. He later made it with beef and while I enjoyed it immensely, it lacked that originality for me. That being said, it wasn't like anything I'd had before. Later that evening, a friend, a professional chef and restaurateur came in and he asked him to try the sauce. The chef took a spoonful, then another and then another, sopping up the final bits with a piece of hamburger roll. He was amazed. He said "I wish I could make mine this good, but you know what's amazing? I couldn't sell it." We both looked puzzled and he began to explain.
"Serving food, isn't about selling the best product, but giving someone an experience. They first eat with their eyes, then their nose and finally their mouths, but the real taste, comes the second they read the dish on the menu. When it comes to pasta and sauces, it's easy to make something with uni or squid ink and get a favorable review, because what are they comparing it to? Nothing! When you make a traditional dish, you have to make it familiar. You can't elaborate too much or it won't click with them." He (an Italian) said "everyone loves mom or Nonna's sauce, but guess what? Chances are Nonna's sauce was pretty shitty. It's the memory of sitting with family on a Sunday that is the real flavor. So, when I make something, it's why it has to be different enough to warrant me charging $22 for a dish that costs me $3 to make, but it has to similar to that the first bite tastes in their mind 'just like Nonna's."
This conversation has stuck with me and made me thing about all the silly times I've eaten with people and heard them say things like "Frog legs taste just like chicken." Psst...they don't, they taste like frog's legs. Or when caviar tastes like salmon, yes, if it's salmon eggs, but the wonder of it is as you press your tongue with the eggs against the roof of your mouth and get that little explosion of flavor. That can't be replicated in nature without some scientific approach to cooking.
So where am I going with this. Well, I love chili and I hate stews. I realize this is odd on many levels, but I just don't like poor cuts of meat made tender by long cooking times. It's why some versions of ribs don't stand up and why most people ruin brisket. I also realize I'm "picky," but that's another topic. So my father made an award winning chili recipe and I dug in. Immediately, my mind raced with each bite. Constantly going back to something familiar. That conversation I spoke of earlier. This chili, wasn't chili, it wasn't stew and it wasn't at all familiar. No matter how I tried it, with pasta, with rice, with onion, with cheese or simply by itself, the flavors, smells and sight of it simply never said chili. I can't say it was bad, because there was nothing about it I didn't like, but I didn't like it as a whole. It wasn't chili to me, based on my experiences. Maybe had I found the bay leaf or been sitting in the place I last had it, would it be recognizable as chili, but it never happened.
Maybe I need to lower my standards or delete my memory. Maybe I need to only try new things or stick to old things. But memories lead us to expectations and whether it be award winning chili or some bland red sauce, accompanied by the comforting smile of Nonna, it all matters. Even before our first bite.
A few years back a friend made me a pork ragu. Knowing I don't love pasta, he gave me a fresh baguette from an exceptional baker to accompany it. I went home, heated it up and dug in. Devouring every last bit of both. Without a doubt, the best meat sauce or bolognese I'd ever had. He later made it with beef and while I enjoyed it immensely, it lacked that originality for me. That being said, it wasn't like anything I'd had before. Later that evening, a friend, a professional chef and restaurateur came in and he asked him to try the sauce. The chef took a spoonful, then another and then another, sopping up the final bits with a piece of hamburger roll. He was amazed. He said "I wish I could make mine this good, but you know what's amazing? I couldn't sell it." We both looked puzzled and he began to explain.
"Serving food, isn't about selling the best product, but giving someone an experience. They first eat with their eyes, then their nose and finally their mouths, but the real taste, comes the second they read the dish on the menu. When it comes to pasta and sauces, it's easy to make something with uni or squid ink and get a favorable review, because what are they comparing it to? Nothing! When you make a traditional dish, you have to make it familiar. You can't elaborate too much or it won't click with them." He (an Italian) said "everyone loves mom or Nonna's sauce, but guess what? Chances are Nonna's sauce was pretty shitty. It's the memory of sitting with family on a Sunday that is the real flavor. So, when I make something, it's why it has to be different enough to warrant me charging $22 for a dish that costs me $3 to make, but it has to similar to that the first bite tastes in their mind 'just like Nonna's."
This conversation has stuck with me and made me thing about all the silly times I've eaten with people and heard them say things like "Frog legs taste just like chicken." Psst...they don't, they taste like frog's legs. Or when caviar tastes like salmon, yes, if it's salmon eggs, but the wonder of it is as you press your tongue with the eggs against the roof of your mouth and get that little explosion of flavor. That can't be replicated in nature without some scientific approach to cooking.
So where am I going with this. Well, I love chili and I hate stews. I realize this is odd on many levels, but I just don't like poor cuts of meat made tender by long cooking times. It's why some versions of ribs don't stand up and why most people ruin brisket. I also realize I'm "picky," but that's another topic. So my father made an award winning chili recipe and I dug in. Immediately, my mind raced with each bite. Constantly going back to something familiar. That conversation I spoke of earlier. This chili, wasn't chili, it wasn't stew and it wasn't at all familiar. No matter how I tried it, with pasta, with rice, with onion, with cheese or simply by itself, the flavors, smells and sight of it simply never said chili. I can't say it was bad, because there was nothing about it I didn't like, but I didn't like it as a whole. It wasn't chili to me, based on my experiences. Maybe had I found the bay leaf or been sitting in the place I last had it, would it be recognizable as chili, but it never happened.
Maybe I need to lower my standards or delete my memory. Maybe I need to only try new things or stick to old things. But memories lead us to expectations and whether it be award winning chili or some bland red sauce, accompanied by the comforting smile of Nonna, it all matters. Even before our first bite.
Blah Blah.. where are your daily wild rants? The brisk winds of Ithaca must have tamed you.
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