It is a good idea for professionals to be aware of the work of others who
practice the same craft. In order to do that, I try to spend a reasonable amount
of time reading the work of food writers, and other such domestic know-it-alls.
Of late, the perusal of these articles would leave a less confident me wondering
what I am doing amiss.
As an example, there is one magazine from a well-known food company, which
arrives in the mail every two months, and is usually about sixty pages in
length. A few months ago, after seeing the word "simple" repeated four times
during the first article, I decided to count its frequency. Alas, after the
count reached fifty, I lost patience, and so have no idea how many times it
actually appeared.
Why might this give rise to self-doubt? After over thirty years of playing
balabusta, I've found very little which is simple about the job. Of course, most
tasks become easier with repetition, but still require a certain amount of care,
even for one as experienced as I. However, publications devoted to household
matters are forever assuring readers that the various projects described can all
be accomplished with a minimum of effort.
Now, it is certainly true that I can decide to make Hollandaise sauce and rely
on a successful result, but would never say that it is simple. When people ask
me how to do it, the answer is, "Buy six dozen eggs, and get to work."
No, I'm not kidding, for that is precisely what chefs-in-training do. With a
huge pile of ingredients at hand, they make batch after failed batch of that
magnificent concoction, until hand and eye memorize the necessary steps.
Most folks find this idea horrifying. There was a time when I thought this was
because of a fear of discarding food, so would offer assurance that a certain
amount of waste was necessary to the educational process. Eventually, it became
obvious that the horror is not of waste, but of work.
Bookstores and newsstands are full of material telling readers that life is
simple, one consequence of which seems to be some sense of entitlement to being
an instant genius. Were Ben Franklin writing today, he might say, "If at first
you don't succeed; give up, or pay someone else to do it."
What a shame, for the notion that accomplishment should be simple has deprived
many of the joy which comes with achievement.
Many readers write to me saying that they can cook, but not bake. I am never
fooled by this professed ineptitude. The truth is that they are unwilling to
take the time needed for precise measurements, and following a recipe as
written. They have been seduced by the idea of nonexistent simplicity.
Ask any ball player, musician, or other professional: doing something well takes
effort and practice. If you would like to teach your children one of life's most
valuable lessons, go in the kitchen and learn to make Hollandaise. Let them
watch you fail repeatedly, and try again, until you wear the smile of success.
Getting a treasure so precious for the cost of some time and a few dozen eggs
won't be simple, but will bring guaranteed rewards.
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