I should be getting ready for work right now. Friday night is here, and I threw away all my foie mise last night, with the ambitious plan to go in today and completely re-work that dish. (Quince and cranberries anyone?) Winter seems like its finally settling in...and yesterday was just gloomy enough to make me happy to be in a warm, dry kitchen. It's been an interesting week so far...with some drama at work, an oil spill in the bay, and a general feeling of uneasiness...but then again, that might just be me. (Whats up with being asked three times yesterday "What's wrong?")
Style has been on my mind lately...and I dont mean how to dress. If you were to ask me about "style" two years ago, I wouldve told you that I didnt have one yet. I work for a chef whose style is clearly Asian, with elements of European cuisine peppered in. A guy like Joey has a rustic sensibility. I used to think I cooked French...and while those techniques are deep in my bones, I think that "American" is the more apt term. It's a fine line to walk, incorporating several cultures cuisines without it becoming fusion...but its walking that line that keeps a cook like myself sharp. (And on occasion, humbled.)
Growing up hapa has had a huge impact on the way I look at food...with my Mother cooking American comfort foods. Nothing over the top or too fancy, but always delicious. She cooked dinner every single night...and even had time to make cookies or brownies afterward. My Father, the son of a chef, could cook Japanese food with his eyes closed...and I got to eat alot of that food growing up. It was his interest in Italian cooking that was interesting though. He would find a recipe in a magazine, and re-create it flawlessly. I'll never forget watching him make a pie late night...from scratch. He is not a chef...but you can tell that blood runs through him. The lessons I learned from my parents are more important than those learned in school...and every now and then I get a happy reminder of these lessons that ive often taken for granted.
Style has been on my mind lately...and I dont mean how to dress. If you were to ask me about "style" two years ago, I wouldve told you that I didnt have one yet. I work for a chef whose style is clearly Asian, with elements of European cuisine peppered in. A guy like Joey has a rustic sensibility. I used to think I cooked French...and while those techniques are deep in my bones, I think that "American" is the more apt term. It's a fine line to walk, incorporating several cultures cuisines without it becoming fusion...but its walking that line that keeps a cook like myself sharp. (And on occasion, humbled.)
Growing up hapa has had a huge impact on the way I look at food...with my Mother cooking American comfort foods. Nothing over the top or too fancy, but always delicious. She cooked dinner every single night...and even had time to make cookies or brownies afterward. My Father, the son of a chef, could cook Japanese food with his eyes closed...and I got to eat alot of that food growing up. It was his interest in Italian cooking that was interesting though. He would find a recipe in a magazine, and re-create it flawlessly. I'll never forget watching him make a pie late night...from scratch. He is not a chef...but you can tell that blood runs through him. The lessons I learned from my parents are more important than those learned in school...and every now and then I get a happy reminder of these lessons that ive often taken for granted.
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1 comment:
it's magic when we begin to feel that sense of personal style develop...oil spills, foie gras, rain on it's way. happy friday.
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