Please Keep Trying!

I don’t remember when it happened that making food became as fun as eating it. I think it it came to be about the same time I was researching Japanese cuisine. I had no idea what anything was in the Japanese pantry. What the hell is dah-she? Kum-bue? Day-con? Huh?

I like a challenge and have always had a massive creative bend. Taking on the task of deciphering the Japanese food terminology was something I couldn’t refuse. I went link-hopping from website to website and checked out every Japanese cookbook at the St. Louis Library (it’s true; you should see the overdue charges). I wanted to know my media inside and out: A person can’t be creative if they’re unfamiliar with the tools they’re working with.

I had to figure out dashi, soy sauce, and mirin are the fundamentals in 90% of all Japanese soups and sauces. I had to learn mochiko dough can be reheated to make flawless daifuku. I figured out the easiest way to make wagashi is to make the anko ahead of time, freeze it, and use it when I felt the need to be creative. I discovered real teriyaki sauce doesn’t even use garlic (too bad). I became acquainted with the best cooking methods for different recipes and how to steam different dishes in the manner best suited to each (there are many ways to steam, FYI).

After I had the basics, I was ready to get creative, and did. Then I had the revelation that I now think about food all the damn time! But not to eat; to make.

I love to cook. I regard cooking as a highly applicable form of art. Most art looks good and can only be enjoyed by a few of the senses; usually tactilely, aurally, and visually. Cooking engages every sense!

The aroma of the sesame seeds as they’re crushed or the ginger as it’s grated, gets the olfactory involved as never before. As spices are ground in a mortar and pestle, they make a soft, low sound just as the chiming of a metal spoon on a wok makes a deep ringing tone. The feel of rice flour dough in the hands is soft, like an earlobe, and tofu has a slippery, cool texture. The finished meal should always look as good as it tastes; the payoff should equal the investment and be visually aesthetic. And to taste the food is the most delightful of all the experiences, but not as much as the experience as a whole to create.

So although I do think about food all the damn time now, I’m thinking of it as an artist thinks of Yellow Ochre or Vermilion Red; as a means but not, by any means, the end.