Cooking Tools & Equipment

I. Nothing about the kitchen should be dark. The presence of heat and sharp objects argues against it, as does the need for spotlessness. Also, light is appropriate to the place the signifies life, energy and sustenance. This isn't to say you can't decorate with dark walls or cabinets, but you do need solid light sources (and I would argue--that can be adjusted.)

II. Cook for the kitchen you are in. Consider the reality of your workspace. Identify and accept its benefits and constraints. If your kitchen has no windows or ventilation, broil the chicken rather than grilling it on the stove top. Do not attempt to roast a 20 pound turkey in a kitchenette's half oven. If you only have counter space for the cutting board, but not for rolling dough, make baked apples, not apple strudel.

III. Obtain the basics. It is less expensive and more productive in the long run to buy one quality knife than multiple inferior ones. This is true for most other equipment as well. I inherited (and still use) my mother's seasoned cast iron skillet. I have my original hand mixer, Cuisinart, my second blender (when I did finally buy quality,) and many other things. I currently need to replace a paring knife and a non-stick saute pan, and I will invest in the best, rather than cheap--which I would ultimately toss quickly.

IV. Care for your knives. Sharpen your knives up to several times a week so that you never have a rolled or dull edge. Use a whetstone to raise a burr, and hone with a sharpening steel, as needed, to refresh the blade. Clean and dry thoroughly after each sharpening. If you are a professional cook you are already doing all of this, of course. If you are a home cook, consult a culinary pro.

To ensure longevity, use wood or plastic cutting boards. Marble, glass or ceramic will chip or dull your knife blades providing no "bite" for the blade and encouraging slipping. I listed wood as acceptable, but I never use it anymore, and I would add that owning a marble surface is good for confectionery and baking creations where you need to keep the ingredient at a low temperature.

Never scrape the sharp edge across the cutting board. To gather food bits, either waste or choppings, turn your knife over and scrape with the spine of the blade. I also keep a pastry scraper handy for these moments.

Never put your knives in the dishwasher. Hot water dulls the blades. Wash your knives in warm, soapy water and dry them immediately with a clean towel. Never leave knives soaking in the sink. This is bad for the blade and dangerous, if you should reach in unaware.

Never use your knife for anything other than breaking down foods. It is not a can opener, box cutter, or screw driver.

V. Hold the knife's handle and blade properly. Very important. Three fingers around the handle; thumb and forefinger pinching the blade. No other method provides greater control or safety.

VI. Dress for the job. In an environment of things hot, heavy and sharp, covered limbs and feet are compulsory. Long sleeves. Hair pulled back and covered. Rings off. Professionals do not wear those double breasted white jackets merely to resemble members of a brigade. Protection from cuts and burns is essential. I posted this rule knowing most people won't follow it, in totality, including myself. I do, however, always have my hair pulled back and tight so stray hair doesn't find its way into food, I don't wear jewelery while preparing food, and I am rarely barefoot. If I were in a professional kitchen or catering? Never.

VII. Carry two towels. One for each hand. Not primarily to wipe smudges and spills, but to pick up hot things safely. Don't grab a pan with a wet cloth. I usually have my towels next to my food preparation area, or tucked into the waistband if I am wearing a chef length apron.

VIII. Do not wear perfume or cologne while you cook. Anything that inhibits or distracts your sense is inappropriate in a kitchen. Banish fragrance candles, counter sprays, scented soaps and lotions. Let only your ingredients and their chemical transformation scent the air. I admit it. I do wear perfume while cooking. I don't use scented candles in the kitchen, but I do have fragrant hand soaps and lotions. Again, if I were cooking professionally? No.

IX. Banter down. In a professional setting, there should be no voices louder than the symphony of banging pots, boiling water, sizzling and chopping. Do not stop chopping. Stop talking. Focus on your task. You need all of your senses at the ready, without distraction. I can cook and talk while working? Some friends, like my friend Laura, loathe it and find it totally distracts them. I say "err on the side of caution and shut up."

X. Use your hands and fingers. Julia Child used to say that a cook's best tool is her hands. As long as those parts are clean, pick up, grab on, dig in. Connect directly to your ingredients. My friend Laura again. I once asked her mother for her meatball recipe, so Laura and I could preserve it on this blog. She said to me, "You know you'll have to really dig into the meat to mix in the ingredients thoroughly." I told her that was not a problem.

XI. Never use your hands and fingers to taste. A cook never moves from hand to mouth. A clean fork or spoon does the job just as well. Good manners require it. Sanitation demands it.

XII. Be wary of single-use gadgets. A skilled cook with a chef's knife, can make better garlic paste, with no waste, than a garlic press. An avocado slicer? A cherry pitter? Herb snips? No. This rule makes me laugh because just this week I threw away a cherry pitting tool. I would make an amendment to some of this rule. A wooden dowel for reaming citrus fruit is good to have on hand, and I still like a garlic press at times. I have a tiny porcelain dish with a raised bumped center that it solely for grating ginger, and it's aesthetically pretty, plus it catches all the juice, so practical. But overall, rethink single use gadgets.

XIII. Use wet measures for liquids. Dry measures for solids. Yes, there is a difference, negligible in small scale recipes, but significant when larger amounts apply. A reliable indicator of which is which: wet measuring cups tend to have spouts. Dry measuring cups do not.

The Cook's Role

I. The cook's first job is to delight. Your first identity is as sensualist, then nutritionist, captain, aesthete, or anything else. Lure with aroma, entice with color, disarm with texture, seduce with flavor.

II. Feed others as they wish to be fed. The Golden Rule: Prepare the dish as you would want to enjoy it yourself. The Platinum Rule: Prepare the dish as the person eating it wishes it to be.

III. Feed others as only you can feed them. Yes, you want to please them, but know, too, they want you to do it. That means bringing your substantial and unique contributions to the mix.

IV. Work from your strength. Don't try to master everything. Become known for a few dishes, perhaps even the near perfection of one. Discover your obsession, then make yourself a slave to it: the mastery of a traditional dish, the combination of ingredients that have never before been met, precision in presentation,devotion to a culinary heritage, the introduction of color where it never before existed...

V. Aim at master of craft, not art. Know the basics. Repeat and practice, and the sublime will rise at rare, unexpected moments. Be opening to capturing art when it comes, but craft is your highest daily priority.

VI. Don't TRY to be different. You are different. Cook from your gut.

VII. Embrace the mundane. Do not bemoan the pedestrian tasks. Find pleasure in peeling a carrot, steaming rice, searing a steak, prepping, cleaning. Your reward is in the work, not around it. Cooking is not about convenience, but the pleasure earned through creation and in giving pleasure to others. Shortcuts are tempting, even necessary from time to time. But if you rely on pre-cut vegetables, pre-marinated meats and canned sauces, you are not cooking. You are assembling.

VIII. Cook globally. Apply the thematic greatness of diverse cuisines to your cooking. The French taught us to build flavor with aromatics, stocks and sauces. The Chinese gifted us with the pass-through process of locking in flavor with hot oil or water before stir-frying. Enhance your cooking using such techniques and sensibilities. Explore unleavened breads. Go Biblical on us. In Indian cooking, spices are often toasted before being ground. (To toast in this case means heating at low to medium heat in a dry pan until your nose tells you it is ready.) Toasting deepens and darkens both the aroma and the flavor, like turning up the volume on everything the spice has to offer. This is genius. Toasted coriander, for instance, smells like popcorn and oregano.

IX. Justify your food in at least two ways. A dish must taste good and be seasonal, or look good and be healthful. Having dual objectives raises your standard of execution. Plus, when a single purpose falls short, you have provided yourself a safety net.

X. Please, PLEASE slow down. To save time, avoid injuries and do better work, don't rush. No frantic action. First, master your craft, then earn speed as the external expression of internal fluency.

XI. Above all, do no harm. Primum non nocere. Let things taste of what they are. Think seasonally. Know the product and let it be.

XII. Dare to do less. Do not pull every trick from your toque when you cook. There is a time and a place for every technique, flavor combination, ingredient and plating style. You will get the chance. For now, do merely what the food requires. "Simplicity," wrote da Vinci, "is the ultimate sophistication." True refinement is invisible.

XIII. Preside happily over accidents. Get in the habit of knowing and honoring your mistakes and seeking lessons. We can only grow through learning, making mistakes, and trying again. The souffle that didn't rise, the broken sauce, the tough sirloin, the curdled creme anglaise--every mistake is a chance to turn misfortune to education and, in some cases, discovery.

XIV. Don't be grim. Meal preparation should be demanding and enjoyable. So should you.

XV. The best compliment for a cook... "More, please." Or speechlessness, or, in some cultures, a belch.

XVI. Eat. Just as a good writer must read, a good cook must eat. Know the experience of receiving and consuming food at least as well as you know the experience of preparing and serving it.

Seafood

I've listed the universals about seafood preparation, and almost to a "T" I disagree with all of them. I understand the ruling principles of the "ideal," but living in the real world, and accounting for personal taste, I say "go with what appeals to you."

I. Know your fish types. Whether your fish is fresh water or salt water in origin, oily or lean in texture, or round or flat in structure, if a cooking method works well for one of its type, then it will likely work well for another. If you want turbot but can only find flounder, don't fret. It takes a lot of time to learn about fish, and a lot of practice.

II. Fish should not smell. Well. Maybe a little. More precisely, fresh fish should never be malodorous. A fish should smell of it's source: a salty ocean, a clean river or lake. Personally I cannot eat fish with an odor. Nada. I have cooked "caught in the wild" salmon and trashed it as inedible because of a strong taste or smell.

III. Buy fish whole. If you buy fillets, you lose the key indicators of freshness: shiny scales, bulbous (not sunken) eyes, firm flesh resistant to the touch, and--ahem--a tight anus. I agree with this, but I don't have time to debone a fish, create the fillets and then cook the thing. I buy it cut up, but from a good source.

IV. Serve fish flesh side up. Unless you have mastered crisping salmon or red snapper skin to an even-colored, crunchy, crackling, plate fish fillet with the flesh side up, skin side down.

V. Cook lobsters live. The standard methods are to steam, boil, broil, or grill. Steaming produces the most tender meat, but for real hedonism, first pour boiling water over the live lobster and let it steep for a minute or two. Then remove the partially cooked meat from the shell and poach it in butter. I would never just pour boiling water over a live lobster. I do agree with steaming, rather than boiling, because boiling gives you watery meat. Lobster shell is hard to cut--very hard on the hands, so I buy (if I can find it) cleaned lobster meat, and it's harder to find than you would think. I recently found a source at one market, where it is cleaned and shipped frozen from Maine, and that's good enough for me. My favorite means of buying it is on Cape Cod where I can go to the local marina where the lobster boats come in, and they sell huge hunks of fresh, cleaned lobster meat at a reasonable price. Ya gotta go to the source.

VI. Cook scallops until rare. It is a culinary crime to overcook a scallop. A sea scallop might take no more than one minute per side in a hot pan to be prepared adequately for safety and superior flavor. I can't stand rare scallops. Go figure. I don't care if it's rubbery. I want mine cooked.

VII. Devein shrimp. For cosmetic and textural reasons primarily. Discard the vein by scoring the shrimp with the tip of a paring knife and then scraping or pulling the vein away. I was taught to devein shrimp as a child, using my thumb nail. Again, for the time factor and labor? I try to buy already deveined shrimp unless I absolutely want to go through the steaming, shelling, deveining process, and I will only do that with jumbo shrimp. Doing it on tiny shrimp....shrimp shrimp? Would take all day.

VIII. Crabs. I've written a whole blog piece about buying and eating crabs. Catching them too. I'll have to transpose that to this blog, because it includes a great method by my brother of boiling them out in the yard over a makeshift brick pit. I never cook crabs at home. Bothersome, hot, and discarding the detritus is a smelly mess. I'll pick through a canister of lump crab meat and that's my limit for home cooking.

Understanding The Recipe

I. Read the recipe. Turn off the television, don't answer the telephone, just sit and read it through. Make a mental inventory of the sort of equipment you need, the cooking techniques required, the ingredients you have on hand--or need to purchase. Note the stages of preparation, the sequences, and get a sense of appropriate timings. Also consider quantity.

II. Read it again. This time let your mind wander. Think about the finished look of the dish, the aromas, the flavors, the textures you want to create and whether any questions you had the first time around are answering themselves. Think about the seasonality of the dish. Consider what you might want to gain from it (not weight!) A historical layered Victorian jelly? Classic French. Your kniving technique.

III. Read at least three similiar recipes. Making boeuf bourguignon? Before you begin, study at least three ways to do it. Take, for instance, Craig Claiborne's use of wine and cognac. Juila Child's delayed use of aromatics (added halfway through the cooking process,) and Richard Olney's guidance on the right cut of meat (a gelatinous cut such as oxtail, shank, heel or chuck.)

IV. If it's in the title, leave it alone. Don't mess with core ingredients. Good recipes are designed around particular flavors. If you are considering a recipe for beef with wine and don't care for beef or burgundy wine, then find a different recipe.

V. Target the result more than the timing. The time noted might be accurate. Consider the unfortunate possibility that the writer might not have tested the recipe, but the desired result is certain. If the recipe says "stir onions for 20 minutes until softened and browned," and after 15 minutes the onions are soft and brown. Stop. Someone famous for not testing her recipes very well is Martha Stewart. I've had a few serious mishaps, following her too closely. Others, like Ina Garten, seem foolproof, and I write that off to her testing, re-testing and re-testing.

VI. Recognize that recipes are often compromises. Editors, considering the collective palate of the publication's audience, sometimes urge recipe writers to tone things down for wider appeal. The quantitites indicated might not reflect your, or even the writer's, true preference. If you sense from a lifetime of eating and cooking that two teaspoons of a spice or an herb will not do, add more. Conversely, know when to use less. Hot pepper flakes, for example, or cayenne. I inherited a subscription to Family Circle. For the time I received it, I never found one recipe I would seriously consider making, and I wrote it off to "magazine demographics."

VII. When you're ready, mess with the recipe. "Life," writes Ray Bradbury, "is trying things to see if they work." I would add, "...and if they don't. But the important thing is to try."

VIII. Do it again. Repetition (of a good recipe) is the path to refinement. You'll learn something new every time. I qualify the repetition statement, because you have to know when to cut your losses, as well. After cooking for a period of time, you should know when something is never going to be what you want to eat, no matter how much tinkering.

IX. Do not be surprised by surprising results. You can never control it all. The humidity in the room, the quality of your water, the nature of your fire, the chemistry of your cookware--all sorts of variables are at play. There might be no way to know them all, but do expect uncertainities. It's only an omelette, not the final judgment of your life.

X. Your soul is in the food. 24 cooks assigned to the same mayonnaise recipe--the same bowls, same spoons, same eggs, same mustard, same oil, same whisks, same peppermills, same room, time of day, marching orders--will create 24 different mayonnaises. Guaranteed.

Repairing Food

I. Always taste the food before you serve it. You carefully planned a menu. Studied the recipes. Hand-selected the finest ingredients. Washed and stored them with the utmost care. Prepared your mise en place. Cooked with focus, skill and joy--but you are not done. Before presenting, taste the food. Confirm your result, or take the needed action to improve it.

II. Correct the seasoning. The professional use of "correct" is misleading. It does not mean that something needs fixing in that it was ruined or executed poorly. It means it has to be made right, not from a state of wrong, just from a state of "not right yet." "Adjust" is a better word. Expect that the seasoning you added earlier has been absorbed into the dish. Remember: season as you go and then re-season with salt and pepper one last time before serving your food. Spices are normally added during the cooking process, not after, to integrate their flavors into the dish. Adding them raw at the end can be bitter and unpleasant. Ensure the salt and pepper are in balance with the dish before you add more spice.

III. Nothing is a lost cause. Unless it is burnt or salted beyond rescue, you can always bump up others flavors to balance the dish.

IV. Acidic Food. Season with salt and pepper. Or tone it down with something smooth like dairy or fat. Or add sweetness to counter the excessive acidity.

V. Dull Food. Brighten with acid or salt. Enrich with fat. Restaurants use animal fat and salt to enhance flavor. Vinegar, lemon juice, finishing oils, butter, and sugar are old standbys.

VI. Bitter or Spicy Food. Salt inhibits bitterness. Honey counterbalances spice.

VII. Salty Food. For solid food, such as finished rice, add more finished but unsalted food to de-concentrate the saltiness. For liquid food; dilute. This might weaken the other flavors and affect texture, so dilute with whatever liquid you started with--milk, juice, stock, tomato sauce--and re-season. Do not add cold ingredients to hot foods, or vice versa.

Wine & Spirits

I. If you won't drink it, don't cook with it. Reject the common myth that inferior wine and spirits can be used in cooking with no ill effect. A dish is only as good as what goes into it. Contrariwise, there is no need to use Louis XIII cognac to make brandied apples. As Escoffier writes, "Profligate extravagance is as bad as a restrictive economy."

II. Connect the foundations. Consider cooking with the same wine you will serve. Not the exact bottle necessarily,l but the grape at least. Even though such attentive touches are rarely noticed, they provide a semi-conscious but satisfying coherence to the meal. Think regionally.

III. Add wine at the beginning of the cooking process. The presence of alcohol in food makes it bitter, so give the wine time to reduce and the alcohol a chance to evaporate.

IV. Don't boil wine. When you reduce wine, simmer, don't boil, or you lose some of the virtues you want to preserve, including the inherent flavor of the grape.

V. Expect wine's alcohol, but not its character to evaporate. The more full-bodied a wine is in the bottle, the more full-bodied is its effect on the food with which you cook it. Character carries. Similarly, a light wine retains its sense of crispness and conveys it to the food.

VI. Cool red. Place a room temperature bottle of red wine in the refrigerator for twenty minutes before you serve it. Despite the prevailing myth, room temperature is too warm for red wine. A range of 60-65 degrees (16-18C) is about right. Avoid rapid temperature swings in any case.

VII. Warm white. Remove white wine from the refrigerator twenty minutes before you serve it. 58 degrees is ideal (14C).

VIII. Color outside the lines. When cooking or drinking, try red wine with fish, white wine with beef. The result might not please you, but break the rules anyway. Taste what happens. You already know the red wine classic coq au vin. Your experimentation might yield the next coq au vin Riesling. When you're ready, mess with the recipe.

IX. Use it in a year. Unless you have a 1952 Château Lafite Rothschild, your wine will not get better with time. It will likely get worse. Everything has its peak.

Shrimp In Sriracha Sauce With Basmati Rice

1/3 cup Sriracha (a Thai hot sauce)
1/3 cup olive oil
1 teaspoon Worcestershire Sauce
3 cloves garlic, crushed
1 handful cilantro, roughly chopped, plus more for garnish
1 teaspoon sugar
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 pounds large shrimp (16 to 20 count), deveined


Mix together the Sriracha, olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, garlic, cilantro, and sugar. Season aggressively with salt and pepper. Put in a 1-gallon plastic bag, add the shrimp, and mix together in the bag. Marinate in the fridge for 2 to 4 hours or longer.

Heat a grill. Skewer the shrimp (4 to 6 shrimp per skewer) and grill until pink and delicious, 2 to 3 minutes per side. Remove the shrimp from the grill, slide the shrimp from the skewer using a fork, and pile on a serving platter.

Sprinkle with finely chopped cilantro, and throw a few toothpicks in a few shrimp.

Serve with Basmati rice on the side.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes:

I made this the first time with only one pound of shrimp. I thawed them in hot water, pulled the tails and patted off the water.

I halved the Sriacha sauce, which is wonderful, but still a little hotter than I would want on a normal basis. If I make this again, I would cut the sauce to tablespoons or teaspoons.

The sugar and olive oil make a wonderful chemical binder that makes the sauce really adhere to the shrimp and lacquers over them.

I did not grill the shrimp, but stir-fried them. I am sure grilling is wonderful.

I used dried cilantro because it's all I had. I think you should strive to use fresh.

For one pound of shrimp, I used one garlic clove. I think with even two pounds one clove would do it. It was a good-sized clove.