Finding Freedom in the Kitchen
I was reading a book the other day called “What French Women Know” by Debra Ollivier (hilariously entertaining) and I realized why I cook the way I do.
It’s because I’m part French.
Debra quotes an article on love by Raoul de Roussy de Sales:
The difference between an American cookbook and a French one is that the former is very accurate and the second exceedingly vague. A French recipe seldom tells you how many ounces of butter to use to make crepes Suzette, or how many spoonfuls of oil should go into a salad dressing. French cookbooks are full of esoteric measurements such as a pinch of pepper, a soupcon of garlic, or a generous sprinkling of brandy. There are constant references to seasoning to taste, as if the recipes were merely intended to give a general direction, relying on the experience and innate art of the cook to make the dish turn out right.
The goal in the kitchen is not to learn how to perfectly follow a recipe: it is to cultivate a culinary intuition and confidence. When you trust yourself and develop this knowing, you can feel truly, artistically free. The food is your medium; the plate is your canvas.
I have never really enjoyed recipes, or rather, following them to a t (much to my family’s chagrin… the poor, unknowing guinea pigs of many kitchen experiments). I find immense pleasure in choosing food at the store, seeing the bright colors practically spill out of my refrigerator, and imagining which colors would be beautiful next to one another, which textures might meld exotically in my mouth. There is an excitement that comes from not exactly knowing how a non-recipe might turn out – it’s a little risky.
Tasting as I go, I imagine which herb might add to the bubbling mixture or ponder if a sauce is needed (Creamy or brothy? Sweet or herbaceous?). My mind runs off, testing the limits of what I know. Areas of weakness in my passed-down and self-taught repertoire, exposed.
If I get stuck, I quickly Google some dish I have tasted before at a restaurant (what was that “thing” that was in the mushroom pesto dish from Mizlala?), or I pull out a classic cookbook for guidance on how to make a certain vegetable crispy or how to bring out its flavor more effectively (more salt? A dash of soy sauce?).
I use these recipes as scaffolding, just enough support so that a meal averts complete ruin. This scaffolding allows for creativity (sometimes we are forced – I bought everything but I forgot the parsley at the store! Or they are still out of Greek yogurt due to the pandemic!), and it allows for something else: joy. When you begin to expand your creativity and create from scratch, an immense satisfaction comes from making something edible, nourishing, scrumptious, and beautiful. The experience also deepens beyond your own satisfaction: you see how food that is both good and made with love brings people together and brings them joy. This is what food, and freedom in making our food, is about.
What I see in many of my clients is fear in the kitchen. Fear around knowing what to choose, how to cut it up, what to put it with. Fear of failure. We assuage this fear with needing to follow recipes with step upon detailed step. And then we get overwhelmed because there are too many steps! Truth is, we will fail in the kitchen. We will flop around like a baby giraffe for a while. It just takes patience, practice, and persistence. My family still loves to tell the story of how I, in my nascent cooking years, made a “healthy” pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving. I thought, well, healthy means you just forgo the sugar! I was henceforth banned from making holiday desserts (I have slowly regained my territory, one recipe at a time!). This story continues to elicit roars of laughter and blushing, years later. You might as well be laughing while failing and flopping!
Where to begin? Here are some things to try (yes, they are steps… someone will be grateful!):
1. Start with what you know, and add something a little “risky”. Know how to boil pasta? Great. Could you opt to make your own tomato sauce? Which herbs, intuitively, do you think you could add? Which vegetables have you enjoyed with your pasta?
2. Explore the store. Go to the produce aisle. Choose a vegetable or three that you don’t recognize. Ask someone who works there how to choose a good one (or good handful, depending). Go home and Google ways to cook it! Or, at the farmers market, ask the farmer what they suggest. They know best!
I hope to inspire freedom in the kitchen. I hope to inspire the embrace of our inner French chef. Finally, I hope to inspire courage to explore outside of the confines of a recipe, put a little trust in ourselves, and allow for the unknown to unfold, one delicious taste at a time.
Bon Courage!