Tag: Cooking

Its Who I Am, Not What I AM!

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Zen and the Art of Cupcake Making

I’m just a man who makes cupcakes. That’s my job, it’s what I do. Everyday I set out on a quest to achieve cupcake Nirvana. I begin my quest by assembling an assortment of biodegradable food products in an attempt to get them to form an allegiance with a single goal in mind. To reach out and grab your taste buds by the hand, take them out to the dance floor and have them spinning and tapping into a deliciously satisfying frenzy of a Tango that leaves you with a blissful smile and lasting memory. No small undertaking is this. I enter into this task every day with enthusiasm and optimistic energy .It’s a responsibility we take very serious at Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes. Each and every day we combine a variety of foods that if left on their own would be relatively insignificant and transform them into 1,000+ taste bud pleasing treats. That’s over 1,000 blissful smiles produced daily. We make vanilla, chocolate, red velvet, lemon, coconut, and peanut butter cupcakes. We take flours and flavors and mix them with other organic foods like eggs and milk, and lay them carefully in a bed of paper inside a special cupcake pan. We subject these mixtures to extreme heat for the perfect amount of clicks of the clock and they rise to the occasion. Exposing them for the proper time is like getting the perfect tan at the beach but avoiding a painful sunburn. Once the cupcake has achieved its full and even body tan we cool them down and give them a rest. Fully cooled the time has arrived for them to be injected with another flavor concoction designed to unite with the chosen cake and create an even more complex structure of flavors. It might be a mousse or custard, a jam or jelly, or any number of creative and innovative treats. One cupcake actually gets a hand chopped portion of apple pie, crust and all. But we’re not finished yet, as if that weren’t enough we then top it off with something sweet that compliments the final product. “Your hair looks great today cupcake, and you haven’t changed a bit since the good old mixing bowl days.” “Thanks for the compliment icing, now lets go take some taste buds on the dance floor and cut the rug!” At this point the cupcake has become a tower of deliciously harmonized flavors clamoring to complete the task of brining your taste buds into perfect balance with the universe. That’s what this unassuming cupcake maker does. I create astral symmetry using every ounce of culinary training I’ve experienced. I’m The Existential Baker who balances the universe by making pleasurable sweet treats. I make cupcakes.
But The Existential Baker is just a name and making cupcakes is just job, it describes what I do. It doesn’t define me. It does give me a few titles though. I’m a chef, a baker, a business owner. I’m also a hippie, a rock and roller, a writer, a culinary poet and an existentialist. We go to great lengths to try and identify categories to stick each other in. The butcher the baker the candlestick maker. It’s what we’ve been taught since we were young and it just gets more complicated as we age. In school we were nerds, jocks, hippies, greasers, stoners, or just plain losers. In the workplace we were grunts, stockers, sweepers, laborers, supervisors, managers or bosses. That wasn’t enough so we created sub-categories and we get downright obnoxious at times. She’s a slut and he’s a ladies man. He’s an aggressive go getter and she’s a bitch. Pretty one sided for a double standard. We try to compartmentalize each other based on opinions or beliefs. Are you a liberal or a conservative? God fearing or Atheist? Winner or loser? Rich or poor? Gay or Straight? Male or Female? Every one of those categories have one common denominator. They can all fit into the category of human being. All too often we work so hard to find our differences we forget how similar we are. We focus so much energy on what sets us apart that we forget how alike we are. For some people its an attempt to somehow make themselves feel superior. That seems rather insecure to me. In reality we are living breathing snowflakes. Not any one of us is an exact duplicate of any other living snowflake. We all have special points that make us unique and beautiful. When snowflakes co-operate and band together they create beautiful landscapes, blankets of slick snow banks that thrill many a skier, or even a powerful storm, but when they fight each other they melt and become droplets of water destined to become lost in a river or sea. Snowflakes are innately beautiful in part because a snowflake by nature is an existentialist. Without question or complaint they are constantly working together and helping each other out with total disregard of compensation. We could learn so much if we paid more attention to all the other snowflakes. I believe if I could learn how to make cupcakes as incredible as snowflakes I could be a cupcake deity. But then I would be put into another category and we sure do have enough of those.
The Existential Baker is just a name, it’s what I do. But now, as soon as the first person read a post of mine I was transformed into an existentialist philosophical cupcake making hippie hipster business owning blogger. How many of us are out there?…Never underestimate the power of a cupcake. Peace

So You Want Your Just Desserts?

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www.stuffedcupcakes.comCulinary Karma

I started out my culinary adventures busting suds for a restaurant in my hometown, and from there the homicidal chef taught me to make salads and finally hot foods. An odd assortment of strange characters assured me this was the world for me. No running off to join the circus for this young lad, my destiny was to be found in the freakish family which would be come to be known to me as “Restaurant People.” Maniacal chefs, egotistic managers, sexy waitresses, drug dealing bus boys, and the legion of pot washing, shrimp peeling, meatball rolling minions of the back of the house. The rest as they say is history. Once I realized I had taken it a far as I could on my own I needed to up my game. A friend suggested I go to the CIA. When I told them I had no interest in become a kitchen spy they informed my naïve ass that I should enroll at the Culinary Institute of America. So I trotted off to cooking school for two years of studying under even more maniacal chefs who probably should never be allowed to use knives outside of the school. But what an education! I was at the top culinary university in the nation, learning the dynamics, science, and art of cooking and culinary management. After years of working for chefs with vein bulging foreheads that seemed in a constant state of sublime irritation, and two years of continuing that line of abuse at school I was ready for the real world of foodservice.
The time had come for me to fine tune the skills and knowledge I had acquired and I wanted to go straight to the top. That’s how I ended up with my first position as a line cook at Windows on the World way up on the 107th floor of the World Trade Center in NYC. Look Ma, I’m on top of the world! The work was incredibly hard and the kitchen reached temperatures approaching the sunny side of hell. I worked my proverbial ass off and could be seen ordering a new one from the ass store at least once a week.
But it wasn’t all bad, not by a long shot. Maybe it was because of the high level of the ass busting and the pressure of getting over a thousand meals served in 4 hours or maybe just experiencing the same culinary drudgery as all the other cooks but a camaraderie developed that rivals the most prestigious of fraternities. The other cooks have you covered and would give the chef coat off their backs if it wasn’t so sweat soaked. And I would do the same for them. It was a tight nit family of sweaty hard working aspiring chefs. The line, the area of cooks stations with stove tops, topped out at about 800 degrees with eight ranges blasting constant heat. It was so hot that a cold beer clause was written into the union contract. True story. We each got two cold beers at the end of service. If you did screw up there was a punishment that was above and beyond the realm of mere cruel and unusual. You got sent to “The Cold Kitchen.” The cold kitchen sucked because it was a constant, repetitive everlasting list of tedious tasks designed to send one on an asylum train. Perhaps three and a half hours of placing small pieces of chicken and scallions on skewers followed by the slicing and breading 5 cases of zucchini. It was the icy version of hell and just as feared. None of us enjoyed being sent there. We loved the high pressure of sauté or grilling and despised time in the cold kitchen.
Either way during the two years working at Windows I learned more than I would ever learn anywhere and it set me on a course which would eventually find me as an executive chef, complete with high stress level and mandatory vein popping forehead. I was certain I was headed for one of the top chef positions in the city, or at least a real good ‘B‘ level chef job. I was an excellent saucier and that was my specialty. Back then like everyone else I knew everything. Now I am older, not much wiser, and instead of the top of the world cheffing on a hot line I have become a baker. Making cupcakes day after day, specializing in cold food. I am not complaining, jut pointing out the irony. Not quite as tedious as the dreaded cold kitchen but still a kind of Karmic revenge. Yes Karmic revenge served to me as it should be, COLD!. That’s right, revenge is a dish absolutely best served cold, after you’ve had time to make your plans. But I did misspeak when I said karmic revenge because there is no such thing as revenge in Karma and I have come to love baking cupcakes.
Revenge is a human emotion. But I did want to somehow incorporate Karma in my cupcakes so I took a closer look at just what Karma is. Its something many people say they believe in. I believe in Karma but I feel it has gotten a bad rap these days. Many people believe Karma to be the universe exacting revenge, but revenge in and of itself is a negative. Karma focuses on the positive. I hear people say things like “ There can’t be any true karma because bad people get away with shit and good people get shit on.” That has nothing to do with Karma guys, that’s life. Karma isn’t payback for doing wrong or reward for doing right. Doing the right thing is its own reward and Karma is just the positive energy that goes along for the ride. The universe isn’t sitting there waiting to avenge people. That would go against everything that’s good about Karma. If you choose to do the right thing because you want good Karma to reward you don’t hold your breath because Karma doesn’t work on demand. When something bad happens don’t wish bad Karma on the person that screwed you because your just festering negative energy. Let the universe take care of things. You may not see it but lack of Karma will surround negative acts with negative energy. Concentrate on keeping your life positive. Distance yourself from negative people and embrace positive people. Walk away from negative energy and walk head first into the positive. No one should need a religion to tell them how to live the best life, the “Golden Rule” is just common sense. I’m not saying abandon your religion and stop the rituals, by all means if that’s a positive action for you embrace it. Take all the positive vibrations your religion grants you. But don’t rely only on your religion to tell you how to treat others, that’s your responsibility. When my 9 month old daughter was very sick and so very helpless a quote I heard has always resonated with me. “A person is never so tall as when he bends to help a child.” That’s Karma!
I have a deep love of rock and roll and that is reflected in many of the cupcakes I have engineered at Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes. (stuffedcupcakes.com if you want to take a peek) . When I saw The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show way too many years ago it changed my life. I evolved politically and philosophically along with them and other rock stars and that’s where I got my interest in Eastern religions and concepts like Karma. To this day I embrace the many lessons I learned from “Eastern Philosophies” I live a positive life and surround myself with positive people. I don’t fight negative people I avoid them. They bring nothing to the table. I truly believe the positive I put into my baking remains there until consumed, at which time its absorbed by the one enjoying it. One of my best selling cupcakes is inspired by both Karma and my favorite Beatle, John Lennon. We call it “Instant Carma” the “C” intentional as a play on words. it’s a vanilla cupcake with an intense caramel mousse, topped of with vanilla and praline icing. I know, I know, shameless plug, but hey….Instant Carma’s gonna get you, gonna knock you off your feet.
Plug aside, embrace Karma, don’t expect it to exact revenge for you. Stay positive, lend a hand, pay it forward, live your best life, and spread the love……PEACE

No Matter How You Slice It

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Looking Through a Glass Onion

The misunderstood onion is the multiple personality disorder victim of the culinary universe. Is it yellow, red, or white? Spanish, pearl, or cocktail? One minute a flavor enhancer and then quickly a breath altering son of a bitch. Sometimes a taste bud joy bringer and oft times a tear jerker this mood changing bulbous veggie staple is a well known in kitchens throughout the world. People are often compared to these versatile ever popular alliums. “He is a complicated Person, with as many layers as an onion.” Indeed concentric in nature the royal onion is as complicated as a vegetable can be. “An onion a day keeps everyone away” That man was so ugly he could make an onion cry.” “ A cat has nine lives but an onion has seven skins.“ “An onion by any other name will never be a rose.” Okay, I made that last one up but you dig what I‘m saying.
Ranging in size from tiny pearls to giant softballs the onion can in fact be peeled one layer after another. A staple in nearly every culture despite having an essence so peculiarly strong and venomous it rivals the skunks ability to cause one to pinch their nose shut tight. It can turn ones breath into a date breaking whiff of “please don’t call me ever again.” Alfalfa was turned away by Darla on occasions when he had recently indulged in scallion chewing. It has a unique ability to coax salty droplets of liquid from our tear ducts which are normally saved for more emotional occurrences. Only the slightest provocation of cutlery piercing its flesh brings teardrops scampering down our cheeks in a sometimes uncontrollable frenzy. This audacious vegetable permeates our olfactory senses in an all out assault that challenges the garlic’s long standing reign as king of tasty but offensive vegetables.
The reason these bulbous alliums make tears come to our eyes is because of a chemical reaction that is much too scientific for me to memorize. Suffice to say the onion contains amino acids in the sulfur family that gets released into the air. These guilty gasses travel up into the air and rub their irritants into our eyeballs prompting the tear ducts to come to our aid and flush out the acrid acid with a tear or two. I have heard many methods that “really work”. Keeping your mouth open will indeed work for a while because you will inhale the noxious fumes into your lungs via your oral cavity, but eventually so much gas will enter the atmosphere you will still tear up and have onion breath on top of it. Other methods such as running water, cutting near a flame or on the back burner of a stove produce even less successful results. Keeping something in your mouth is the same principle of an open mouth but for the less disciplined of us. The only real advice I have on this is to keep the onion as cold as possible or keep a small fan blowing away the fumes as you slice, dice, mince, or chop.
Once past the tear inducing cut up stage the onion performs its intended task, the enhancement of flavor to almost any dish. In Cajun cuisine they call the onion and its often present partners peppers and celery the Holy Trinity of cooking. It is the basis of nearly every soup an stew in the world, it adds umpf to pilaf, zing to zucchini and pop to popcorn shrimp. Its in sauces and sides, dressings and dinner entrees, salads. In appetizers and entrees, starches and sides, veggies and meat combos. Fried in rings or just bloomin it makes solo appearances and it even has a starring role in cocktails. Yes the onion has a many faceted personality and it brings tremendous flavor enhancement to just about any dish. With a presence so pronounced in the culinary world you may think it deserves a birthday celebration all its own. Only problem is, we have no idea exactly when that would be.
Some botanists say it was born in Iran and Pakistan, others argue it is originally from Central America, but the omnipotent onion seems to have been around forever. Many anthropologists believe it was used by our cave dwelling ancestors, so a birthday would be next to impossible. They have seen evidence of onions in ancient Egypt where they believed it potent aroma could bring the dead back to life. Perhaps until the first unfortunates soul tried shredding the much more aggressive horseradish which may very well have the ability to awaken the non living. The onion made its way into Bible passages as well. The book of Numbers has the Israelite children lamenting of a diet filled with leeks and onions as they traveled the desert. The Romans, Greeks, and Indians all recognized the healing power of the vitamin rich veggie. The Olympians of ancient Greece fortified themselves with onions before their grueling events. Even the Middle Ages showered glory on these globes of culinary prominence. The three main foodstuffs of that era were cabbage, beans, and onions. Sounds more like weapons of mass stinkation. The magnificent onion was believed to have incredible medicinal properties curing everything from mouth sores to insomnia. I can only assume the happy sleeper was in bed alone! These special kitchen necessities were even taken on board the Mayflower, adding a special flavor enjoyment to the first Thanksgiving. It was one of the very first botanical treasures planted by the pilgrims on American soil.
Yet with all of this, still no mention of a birthday celebration for the used and abused reigning king of culinary staple foods. This then has become my New Years resolution for 2013. I will do everything in my power to raise awareness of the injustice we have bestowed upon this essential aid in recipes around the world So I am asking you to join me in wishing the fabulous culinary workhorse, this noxious bulb, this fortune bringing, tear coaxing stench maker of the vegetable kingdom a very happy birthday the very second after the ball drops in NYC. Don’t cry for me Argentina, just slice me a few of those birthday onions to have with my champagne. Happy Birthday you many layered edible gem you……PEACE

The Next Great Cupcake

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Kiss Me, I’m a Cupcake
It was once said that a cupcake poets work is never done. Okay so it was me that said it, but its not without some inkling of truth. No sooner has the satisfied sweet treats of Valentines specials been fully consumed when the question comes. “What’s up for St. Patrick’s day chef?” After a few hyper-ventilating breaths, a fair amount of Pinot Noir, and a meditative clearing of the creative chasm in my head I am ready. A very successful array of valentine treats have been digested by my cupcake foodies and now I look towards what will be coming up in the next few weeks here.
I know, I know, its not until March 17th, but around here in Jersey the parade celebrations start early. Apparently its hard to engage a good bagpipe band around St. Patty’s day because everyone needs one in their town parade. Due to the scarcity of good pipers the demand is high and it has become necessary to hire the bands on alternative Saturdays in different towns. I call bullshit! Sounds to me its all about having a four weekend celebration of partying in various towns in the area. Regardless, I take on my normal challenge of coming up with something special for the extended celebration as serious as the consumers of corned beef and green beer take theirs. So today I begin working on my 2013 St. Patrick Day Cupcake.
To begin with I will remind you of our regular specials which have become standard fare due to popularity. We presently have four cupcakes that will be making cameo appearances over the next few weeks. “The Screaming Banshee, a chocolate Guinness cupcake with whisky custard and whipped cream topping (my fave), “The Danny Boy” , an Irish cream vanilla cupcake with Irish cream custardf an whipped cream, “The Shamrock and Roll,” chocolate cupcake with clover honey whiskey custard and cream cheese icing. And “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling” vanilla cupcake with oatmeal cookie bottom orange mousse an vanilla icing. Those are the four horseman of St. Patrick’s treats. But as a cupcake engineer its my responsibility to have something more 2013-ish.
Creating the proper cupcake isn’t done in one sitting. It begins with a concept and continues as a work in progress. First the working title. This year I want to pay homage to the great Irish population of Boston. Loud and Proud the Bostonian Irish community have a strong voice in pop culture, and our cupcakes are largely inspired by pop culture, especially the music. So the name. House of Pain is a terrible name for a cupcake as is Dropkick Murphy’s. The dropkicks do however have one song that I absolutely love! Ergo, my working title is “Shipping Off To Boston”. The finished product hasn’t been determined yet but to reflect this wonderful communities culture the cupcake will be filled with Indian Pudding, a staple at Boston’s most famous restaurants. Of course this too can change, but for now it sounds really promising to me. It sounds so damn good it makes me wanna…..Jump Around, jump up, jump up, and get down! Stay tuned….PEACE

Kitchen Burnout

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If You Can’t Stand The Heat

Restaurant life is a love story. Right from the start it shoots its arrow and takes you under it’s spell. It casts a love Jones on you that grabs you by both cheeks. Once its in your blood a life sentence without parole begins. Possible time off for regeneration if you stay at it too long. I began my journey into the world of restaurants at the not so tender age of 14. I busted suds, cut lettuce, plated desserts, peeled shrimp, rolled meatballs, and did all the chefs culinary biding no matter what the request. I worked my way up the kitchen ranks and was feeling great. Then I went and hit a plateau. I was a line cook and it seemed that was as far as I would get. Along with a friend one night after an evening of substantial alcohol consumption we went to a diner. Behind the grill were two old relics of cooks, like bald 80 somethings, cooks frying eggs and flipping burgers. I turned to my friend and said, “Shit man look at those dudes. I don’t wanna be flipping no damn eggs when I get that old.” My friend suggested cooking school. Of course! So off to the CIA I went to get a culinary education. I received an associates degree in culinary arts and I secured a job at Windows on the World. But there I was still just a line cook. I learned a helluva lot there, more even than I did at school, and it opened quite a few doors for other jobs. I worked in 2 or 3 other restaurants and continued to learn, mostly through screaming chefs an blubbering angry managers. I learned to sauté, roast, some butchering, sauces, and a ton of culinary “tricks” but was still just a line cook. An experienced one in great restaurants , but I still hadn’t made the jump towards being The Chef.
So I moved back to my hometown on Long Island and took a job an hour away as a sous chef. Now I was moving up and things were getting better. Soon I was in charge of the operation of a very big conference center in the famed “Gold Coast” of Long Island. A huge mansion that sat on 55 acres of beautiful land in Glen Cove Long Island. The conference Center housed about 400 people in an old Pratt mansion, quite possibly one written about in “The Great Gatsby”. I answered directly to the chef who saw very little actual kitchen time. We did weddings and ceremonies on the weekends. I worked 6 days a week, from one in the afternoon until ten at night. The kitchen staff then went out to party. No cell phones, no idea where friends may be by then so we all just kind of stuck together. Party we did! Gallons of beer, pounds of weed, and whatever “special enhancers” came around. We worked really hard and we played even harder. Too hard. Most of us were just beginning to raise families and it was bad enough to miss family celebrations, but to stumble in at 3AM half in the bag an wake up late in the morning with hangovers took its toll. Our marriages broke apart and we spiraled out of control. Basically we were all a mess, but we had each other. Eventually that faded too, as cooks took different paths on their careers. Being a chef can be a seriously burnt out profession, and almost every chef I know has left the business at some point or another due to burn out. Most returned but a few casualties managed to switch careers, or go the way of asshole managers. I was burning out quickly because one of the lures of restaurant life is constant party and fun times. Fun times never seem to last and I had to get out. I was beginning to HATE the industry I had fallen so deeply in love with. I met up with some old school friends who got me a job in construction.
Me, in construction? I sucked at building Lego structures. But this offered me a 9 to 5 life with weekends and holidays off. I was in career heaven. Coffee breaks, lunch hours, a few beers after work, I felt almost human. The trade off? I had to perform mundane tasks like putting together hundreds of clothes racks, and lining the entire parameter of Filenes Basement store with floor boards. It didn’t take long to hate the monotony of the work but I didn’t want to go back to restaurants. Service time in a restaurant is an intense drama that unfolds different each night. Wait staff yelling at cooks, cooks screaming at wait staff. A total vortex of chaotic high pressure.
I continued my patch of escapism and hammered, screwed, tiled and did a plethora of things I had neither the proper talent nor the slightest desire to accomplish. I was miserable I thought, but not as miserable as I was in a kitchen. Yet in some bizarre way I kind of missed restaurant life. I did stay in touch with people working the food industry and one good friend in particular understood what I was going through. She accused me of being in denial, of wanting to go back to working the high pressure world of cooking. I of course told her she was crazy and I had no intention of going back. She invited me to a faux opening of her uncles restaurant. In a faux opening the guests are all family and friends and the cost of the meal is a full critique of service and food. It’s used by many restaurants to get some of the kinks out before opening to the public. She asked her uncle to sit us at a table as close to the kitchen as possible. He put us right next to the kitchen doors where I could hear the ceramic clanging of dishes, the whirling machine sound from the dishwasher, the near tears plea’s and the multi lingual cursing that is the noise and clamor of service time in the kitchen. Ordering 2 beef, 3 chicken, picking up table 5, where is my chicken, all the familiar sights and sounds I had grown up around.
Like the song of the sirens in Ulysses the ceramic clank of plates sang out to me bidding me to return. Seeing the intensity of action just inside those two way kitchen doors screamed out ‘I miss you”. I noticed how those doors always worked flawlessly, in on one side out on the other and stood in stark contrast to the juggling of foods and emotions inside. How the wait staff would be screaming profanities and shouting poisonous darts of anger in the kitchen, then transform instantly into a composed happy waiter driven to make the diners experience as content as possible in the hopes they will return the favor in an over 15% tip. That e transformation occurred in the kitchen doorway, like a magic portal between heaven and hell. Then as the greasepaint is to an actor, all these sights, sounds, and memories whirled around tugging my emotions and I truly did miss that shit.
That was it. all she wrote! The next morning I went straight to the classified ads and began looking for a job in a restaurant. I admit, part of it was because I was sure it was the one thing I was really good at, but I also know that it was my first true love and I just could not live without it. Despite all the bullshit, the horrible epochs of time in which I was completely and utterly debased, despite the long hours, weekends of working and missed family holidays, I was gonna stick with my love. I wanted back with my ex and my ex welcome me back with open arms. A chef position was open at a Cajun restaurant so I studied up, consumed a shot (or two) of vodka, put on some nice clothe and laid on my charm and charisma. I landed the position. It only lasted for six months which was okay cuz I’m not a Cajun cook but it was all I needed to get back into the field. The rest as they say, is history……..PEACE

Love Apple Cupcake??

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Love Apple Cupcake? Not on my Watch!

What could possibly be more appropriate for Valentines Day than something so romantically named as a love apple cupcake. Cupid could trade in his arrows for a batch of these passionate sounding treats. Ah, love, puppy love, true love, love poems, love songs, Love don’t cost a thing! But love apple? In a cupcake, really? Not on my watch, because this tempting fruit of love is not an apple at all, but a tomato!
That’s right, the confused red headed step son of the fruit family is not a crispy sweet apple, but a gnarly sandwich friendly beefsteak. From my kitchen that deceptive chameleon of a fruit/vegetable will not be found in a cupcake. Not on my watch! Now I admit I am not well versed in botanical history but it seems to me that the tomato is somewhat of an outcast. What dastardly evil deed must the tomato have committed against the vegetable brethren to have it excommunicated and forced to live out its existence living within the fruit family. What heinous crime has the ever popular tomato committed to be sentenced to a life of exile from its rightful place in the vegetable kingdom? Could it be the culprit that made mini cabbages sprout in Brussels? Did the tomato cause the beet to see red, or turn the chards so bitter? What could this star of pizza and pasta possibly have done?
Whatever its infraction it does have a lesser known partner in the crime family of fruits, the greenbean. (don’t get your hopes up for a greenbean cupcake either) Also techniquely a fruit the green bean seems to get way less notoriety as a mislabeled food. Perhaps its after being force fed this fruit disguised as a vegetable in its most rudimentary pabulum stage when we were Gerber babies leaves us unenthusiastic to its state of being. Perhaps it just flies under the radar or maybe its skinny self has left us a bad taste in our mouths. No matter, neither fruit will ever be found in its rightful place in supermarket produce sections, they will be left to sit amongst veggies and live out their lives ostracized by their fellow fruits who, rightly so, feel betrayed.
But back to the popular hamburger and sandwich accompaniment, our tomato. Let face it, we all treat it as if it is a vegetable. Yet despite being used exclusively in vegetable preparations by culinaryians the scientific community refuses to acknowledge its status as anything other than a savory fruit. Try as it may our androgynous treat looks, tastes, even feels like a vegetable. But alas poor beefsteak, though Horatio knew you well you remain a fruit. Never part of any ensemble cast of fruit flavored candy treats of chewing gums. Never a mention in the jelly bean world. No tomato flavored cough syrup. But that’s like comparing apples to green beans, and that information ain’t worth a hill of oranges.
While I am not usually one to jump on any kind of bandwagons I am ashamed to admit that I too have disregarded its natural born status and used the tomato as nothing other than a lost soul of a vegetable trapped in a fruits body and it will never appear in a cupcake. Did I say never? Here at Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes we never say never!
All things considered the tomato has risen above the pomp and circumstance and taken its place as an edible chameleon and keeps its true identity discrete. Besides, there is one thing the misunderstood vegetablesque fruit can boast amongst those who are aware of its authentic beginnings. It is the center piece of a very wise proverb. Knowledge is understanding that a tomato is actually a fruit and not a vegetable, but wisdom is knowing that the tomato does not belong in your fruit salad.
Enjoy Valentines and every other day, and share the love… PEACE

Baked With Love

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I don’t use recipes because I am an existential cook. For me recipes are merely suggestions, a list of potential ingredients with chronological preparation instructions most commonly used for a successful reproduction of a culinary creation. I didn’t stay in the lines when I colored (or color with conventional pigments for that matter) and I have problems following directions. Not jut the “guys never ask for directions”, or throw out the directions and put furniture together incorrectly type of following. Although I will confess to harboring both of those qualities I mean recipe directions. As an existentialist I cannot in good conscience merely make a replica of a dish, I have a burning desire bordering on an intense need to recreate said taste temptations on my own terms. In addition recipes invariably ignore the intangible ingredients and techniques. That’s not meant as a put down, I would be hard pressed on how to integrate ingredients that are metaphoric or theoretic in nature in my lists. I am speaking of the intangibles of human emotion. That and my belief that the universe has the power to effect balance on levels we will never understand. So how many teaspoons of humor should one add to insert a touch of whimsy to the dish. One cup of what exactly will cause the one enjoying the creation to smile involuntarily. The use of emotional ingredients is out there in the universe waiting for the enlightened cook to grab its gusto and impart it into the organic creations of our trade. Of course the one emotional ingredient many of us are already familiar with (maybe even on a sub-conscious level) has been implemented by our own mothers for as long as we can remember. Love.
.No doubt Moms add lots of love to whatever they make. Damn Mom, how come everything tastes so much better when you make it? What cosmically balanced secret ingredient do you add? My Mom always told me she “added TLC”. Much more effective and safe than MSG, she imparted TLC, Tender Loving Care. Moms instinctively know how to add love to everything they make and you won’t find it in on any shelf in the supermarket, or on any recipe page. Not even her “Betty Crocker’s Picture Cookbook“, or “The Joy of Cooking” list TLC in the recipes . When I graduated from CIA I fancied myself a superb chef already. Damn I thought, I learned so much and now I am a helluva cook. I couldn’t wait to show off, especially to my Mom, who was so profoundly proud that her number 5 son was a chef. I dazzled the family with chateaubriand and béarnaise sauce, pommes Anna, and a gratin of roasted veggies. Not to toot my own cornucopia but that dinner was the shit (that’s a good thing). Something however seemed missing. Something always present in Moms dinners was void in mine. I was humbled and to this day I make it a point to NEVER compete with a mother in cooking. My dinner, while tasty as all hell (again, good), had a distinctive aftertaste of cockiness and arrogance (not good). It didn’t ruin the dish but it did make me aware that whatever Zen I put into came my food will come out of it. That’s when I began my quest to use my existential philosophies as an ingredient and apply them whenever possible to my techniques and recipes, or “Lists of Ingredients“. That’s how I use existentialism and positive emotions in my kitchen and when sharing lists or suggestions of preparations.
In my professional kitchen that’s a more difficult task than it would seem. As chef I am not only in charge of my own Karma, but the Karma of my staff as well. For starter I never allow them to call me boss, because that would suggest that I am in some way superior. On a person to person level we are equal, I am merely the guide an the one who will take responsibility for the good, the bad, and the ugly. I would estimate that 95% of kitchens I worked in over the years, while sharing many a laugh was a personal hell to work in. I have been called names that could make a beet blush and in at least four different languages. I was a ’Grand Pederast”, a “Puttana Basterdo”, a “Pendejo”, and a “Gamozo (still not sure what that means). After years of humiliation and dehumanization I made a conscience choice to run my kitchen empathetically and effectively. I have empowered my staff, taught them all to be pro-active, and they follow my lea of being result oriented as opposed to the blame and discipline oriented philosophy I grew up in. As a result my kitchen and my staff remain as positively focused as possible. Mistakes are still made, but instead of trying to hide them they ask what they can do to fix it. That small piece of good feeling and positive vibration are a key ingredient in our cupcakes. When we say they are baked with love, its not just a tagline. Our goal is to make good feelings come out of every bite. It’s about Love!
Love is by far the most mysterious and powerful of our emotions. Love can be mis-used, abused, refused, and bemused. Love can enhance you chance, put you in a trance, make you dance, and take a stance. When you are in it about nothing else matters, and if it lasts you are as lucky as one can get. On Thursday we all have the opportunity to express this mysterious emotion collectively. Like noetic science which studies the power of collective conscience we all share the power of love on the same day. Valentines day is the one day of the year we can all align our Jupiter’s with Mars and allow love to steer the stars. Power in numbers. That’s why it’s important to get it right. So starting Wednesday, Mistress day…(I don’t make this crap up don’t shoot the messenger) we will have an array of treats with an extra concentration of love from the kitchen, prepared with passion and caring. We throw in a little whimsy as well.
Now comes the shameless plug, the moment of truth for Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes. Of course I use only the freshest and most aphrodisiac enhanced ingredients, and I always bake with love and passion and what one puts into cooking come out ion the eating. So just bringing home some of our delicious stuffed cupcakes will open some doors, but here at Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes we are true romantics at heart (get it??) Therefore we are offering some extra special valentine choices. If you don’t celebrate, of if you find yourself alone on valentines day we have you covered as well. So here they are.
In addition to our crowd pleasing Red Velvet and our assortment of delectable chocolate and vanilla cupcakes we are offering some lovers specials. The “C’mon Baby Do the Casanova” is a vanilla cupcake stuffed with banana’s foster (banana’ cooked in spice rum) and vanilla cinnamon icing which has been falsely reported as the treat Casanova used to seduce Brazilian Bossa Nova dancers. Brining cupcake love to a new level is our “Just Like Romeo And Juliet“, an Amaretto cupcake stuffed with a raspberry champagne custard and covered with a sensuous dark chocolate icing. And speaking of Elvis we will have the “All Shook Up“, a banana chocolate chip cupcake stuffed with peanut butter mouse an topped off with vanilla icing. The perfect compliment for your little “Teddy Bear”. In addition to just cupcakes we will have some other creative and seductive treats including our annual tradition of fresh strawberries dipped in Belgian Chocolate or White Chocolate.
Like I said, if you don’t like Valentines Day and don’t celebrate it or are in between relationships we have you covered as well with two special Anti-Valentine Day cupcakes. Buck the tradition with the all new “Love Stinks” the cupcake inspired from the classic cliché of sitting on the couch dipping a cookie into an ice cream sundae to peel away the guilt laden layers of being a solo artist, it’s a half chocolate half vanilla cupcake with a chocolate chip cookie baked into the center, covered in chocolate whipped cream and topped with a cherry. It’s a cupcake that simply drips of self indulgent bliss! Even if your not alone this is a crazy good treat because even if love does stink, the cupcake does not! The other Anti-Valentine Day cupcake is the “Emotional Rescue” a cupcake originally designed to offer a bit of emotional rescue to some special friends who needed it. The Emotional Rescue is a red velvet cupcake filled with Heath bar custard an finished off with a cherry brandy whipped cream. I have no doubt The Rolling Stones would be proud to sing a song about it.
Have a fantastic Valentines day and fill all your days with lots and lots of love……PEACE

Is the future of Dining out a Dismal Prospect?

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kitchens

In the not too different future chefs will be replaced with culinary scientist and the social activity of recreational dining may well become just a part of restaurant history. Foods will be prepared not for its outrageous presentations or amazing taste bud teasing virtues but for its optimal nutritive and regenerative quality. This of course is merely a theory of mine but it’s a little to persuasive and argument to be completely ignored. The world we live in is changing fast and generations are growing up quicker, living longer, yet burning out sooner. The age of instant everything is here and the population grows at such an alarming rate competition for jobs has turned into a near brutal contest. Today if you snooze you not only lose but you sink. Miss a call or an email or text and within literally seconds another person may be moving in on your prospects. Don’t know an answer to something? Google it and you’re informed in seconds. it’s a lightning quick pace today and fortunes can be lost or made in the time it takes to click a mouse. Where is the food industry headed? Look around and the types of eateries today. Froyo (frozen yogurt) establishments as well as student oriented fast food shops all have computers or game stations for the kids amusement. They have not a easier for but rather a need of constant stimulation and its all just part of evolution. How many of you remember being bored to tears on long drives and inventing games like “I Spy”, or “How many different license plates can you find?” How much wood would a woodchuck chuck? Ninety nine bottle of beer on the wall. Mindless songs and queries entertained many of us during long rides or field trips. Not anymore. That eerie glow coming from those traveling SUV’s filled with children are DVD players or even TV’s to keep the kids quiet. Even on short trips! No wonder kids today expect visual stimulation every ten seconds.
Gastronomic science is already becoming accepted and you will soon be hearing a lot about Molecular Gastronomy. Molecular gastronomy is cutting edge cooking where high level science meets haut cuisine. Chefs use controversial and provocative presentations an methods using equipment more often found in a University science lab room. Far beyond the short lived popularity of foaming chefs are well versed in scientific techniques using liquids nitrogen, anti-griddles, dehydrators, and thermal immersion circulators to alter the shape and taste of dining. There are already a number of high quality restaurants that specialize in molecular gastronomy. Taking serious strides in the early 90’s it’s a growing industry and quite controversial in the culinary corners. That’s a story for another time, my point is that science is already entering the dining experience and its only a matter of time before the novelty and entertainment value of molecular gastronomy evolves into a more clinical form of eating void of social entertainment while brimming with nutrients, vitamins, an other substances designed to enhance human physical performance. Not like steroids, but food an techniques developed to maximize the ability to move faster, stay more alert, and function with less sleep to give the diner the edge they need to get or stay on top in a whirlwind workforce. That is my assessment of the future of cooking. Scientist serving up stamina on a plate. Will it really end our last bastion of physical interactive social activity. I truly hope not, ining out is probably my favorite pastime in the world. Stay tuned…Next time……how the industry has evolved during my culinary career

So You Want To Be a Chef? (an inititiation into culinary life)

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A existential chef’s initiation into the industry circa 1970

Despite all the bad karma that seeped out of the sink drain I knew nothing could possibly drag me away from the restaurant industry. Maybe one day I’ll be the Chef, and become a raving lunatic who screams at anyone dumb enough to stay within ear range of my booming voice. An insane culinary Guru who proudly sports a tall white hat that accentuated a bulging forehead vein popping out and threatened you silently. At least it pulled me eyes directly to it and made me feel threatened. A slightly mentally deranged and touched in the head man who is permitted by law to carve carcasses with an array of razor sharp knives of all sizes. I can’t help thinking how proud that would make Mom and Dad. Oh the hell with the Stock Exchange Mom, I wanna carve lamb forequarters and exchange recipes. I want to carry big ass knives around and scare the shit out of the dishwashers. My gastronomic voyage would be completed once I became the all powerful illustrious king of the kitchen, The Chef.
Truth be told the restaurant industry simply jumped up at me and shouted “This is it” Este Este Este!!. This is what you ask? It was the people, the “restaurant people”, an almost cosmic group of mix and matched misfits. I was spellbound by this diverse group of dedicated individuals, who work together in a form of impromptu performance art centering around biodegradable remnants of the tastiest and most orgasmic morsels of nutrition I had ever indulged in. Each person plays an integral role in this drama. Like an experienced stage hand I set up the props over and over, so the chef could turn organic ingredients into edible works of art, perfectly arranged on the plate I had cleaned. Our lead waitress, Laura would put six of these recently cleaned, now presently food adorned plates on a large oval tray, also cleaned by yours truly, and with swanlike grace, effortlessly carry it off, to be placed in front of some more than likely alcohol saturated patrons. The patrons would then eat the wonderful dish of blissful organic delight, inadvertently leaving something on the plate that would eventually become my responsibility. The waitress would entertain them with a variety of skits, ranging from cute and flirtatious to downright suggestive. The performance continues. Meanwhile, backstage, the chef, Jimmy ( his given name was too hard to pronounce) is performing voice exercises and using my deer in headlight eyes as his focal point. Rapidly building to an everlasting crescendo, I listen intently to the chefs advice, disregarding the part where he assures me I should leave this God forsaken establishment or die. Another suggestion he had for me was doing something to myself I felt to be physically impossible. (Not that I wouldn’t try!!) That too, I chose to disregard! Sufficiently emasculated, red-faced, and disenchanted, I returned to my pot sink in a highly evolved state. Taking a “the show must go on” attitude, I needed to ready myself for the onslaught of table remnants that our patrons found objectionable. In walked the lovely leading lady, flashing me that piercing knee buckling waitress smile, and began emulating the chefs thunderous performance. Thankfully, it was not directed at me, but rather on the only person here that was truly as lowly as me, Rod the busboy. Now I got an opportunity to view my peer’s reaction to a brutal lexiconic workover, so I might hone my anti-beration skills for the next portioning of verbal abuse. It would not take long, and I unfortunately had little time to study my new mentor, and was left to my improvisational skills. The burning narrowed eyes of my dream vision met mine, and for just one second held me in a frozen state. While flashing her signature seductive smile, Laura’s eyes softened, and in that songbird like voice, she asked, “JT, will you set up my next tray?” With a wink, she was gone, the busboy was fighting back tears, the chef was deciding my fate, and I of course, was setting up Laura’s tray, like it had never been set before. As the chef pondered the proper interpretation of various swear words and insults, in order to more effectively crush my spirit, I arranged Laura’s tray oblivious to my surroundings. The chef began to explain to me who I was working for, but fortunately for me his lung pounding performance was interrupted by the appearance of an enigmatic presence. The next character to enter, stage left, was a tall, tuxedoed, and very suave Frenchman, bearing the title restaurant manager, Didier. Didier’s job, as I understood it, was to make the entire cast miserable, so we would reach deep down to our inner selves, and come up with the performance of a lifetime. I wanted to reach deep down and pull out a Smith and Wesson, but then again, I was young and impressionable back then, so I did indeed find myself motivated by the threat of that French penguin. That, and a paycheck, and another opportunity to allow Laura to know what an awesome dude I really was. Didier began to roar at all of us, and yet then again, to no-one in particular. It was delivered in a language foreign to me that sounded oddly complementary. Rod the busboy assured me that those seemingly sweet words that came thundering out towards the entire cast, were in fact foul French slang that could make the onions break down and cry! As Didier loudly and a bit too cantankerously explained to us how important it was that we comprehend the significance of his tirade. Even Jimmy looked worried when Didier was in the kitchen. Oddly, the only one that was not intimidated was Laura, the vivacious waitress, who seemed to render our fearful leader speechless using only her eyes. Like the Wicked Witch of the West, Didier disappeared in a puff of smoke. Or maybe Jimmy was burning something, I really don’t remember. But he was gone, Laura’s tray was set to absolute perfection, Rod the busboy had regained his composure, and Jimmy was ready with the next round of tantalizing treats arranged in artwork on my clean plates. All had performed admirably in Act 1.
Anyway, you get the picture; This performance goes on all night, every night. Some of the actors change, but the results remain the same. Curiously, at dinner time, Jimmy took on an air of compassion that made me think of my own father on some of his better days. He would speak ever so softly, and hold out a bowl of beef stew, which because it had some wine in it, was referred to as Beef Bourgogne. But delicious it was. No Dinty Moore for this restaurant worker. As quickly as everything had gone to hell in a mixing bowl, the calm and serene peace of family meal changed the entire setting. I sat at a small table with Ernie, the old man who was in charge of maintenance. Funny, because he could barely maintain himself, and as I later found out, he was the 65 year old uncle of the manager. I cleverly positioned myself so I could catch a glimpse of Laura each time she entered the kitchen. It was these Zen saturated moments that made us all forget how loud and harsh the decibel level could get at service time.
My gastronomic voyage had officially begun. I dove in with a work ethic beyond reproach. I have arrived!

The Kitchen Existential (an existentilal chef explains)

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Culinary Existentialism

My daughter, like most children has a propensity to be actively inquisitive despite being somewhat apathetic as to my responses. Its something that comes natural to kids starting from the finger pointing “What is this” to “are we there yet” to “can I have some more money”. Now that she is a young adult her questions are more simplistically complex. The simple question she posed to me was “what is an existentialist and why are you the Existential Baker? A simple question perhaps, but it entails a complex explanation. Existentialism is often confused with Nihilism or Atheism as it shares many of the same philosophical concepts, but they are from being clones.
For starters while many existentialist do not believe in God, or any gods, existentialism is not Atheism. Actual Existentialism is a philosophy that embraces some of the aspects of Buddhism, some aspects of the Karmic Wheel associated with both Buddhism and Hinduism, and the faith in Kismet associated with some Turkish and Persian philosophies. Many existentialist will put forth a strong scientific argument that God as it has been taught to us does not in fact exist, but its not as simple as God vs. Science. It’s not a matter of whether an existentialist does or doesn’t believe God exists, its more that by the nature of the philosophy any organized religion or faith and its profound belief in an omnipresent master or masters is of no consequence to the living of ones life. A true existentialist views both the big bang and the creationist version of the essence of everything to be competing hypothesis‘. The existence or non existence of God is an argument for faith and science, neither of which can prove their point. I do good deeds, I treat people right, I accept people for who they are, and I try to never judge anyone. I do this without the assistance of any religious nudging because I choose to be this way. On the other hand I recognize that many people need constant reminders of how to behave in order to co-exist and for them religion, at least in theory, works well. To an existentialist bliss is achieved through love and companionship and we choose to either live a good and prosperous life or an evil and consequential life. We understand that consequences do accompany our choices and we accept both the good and bad that are attached to them. We chooe how we live our lives and we deal with issues as they arise.
Many people view existentialism as a philosophy of despair but its the exact opposite. It’s a philosophy that has you grab life by the hand and take it out for a romantic walk every day. To run barefoot with it while singing an laughing or allow it to transport us into all the magnificence it offers.
Take words for instance. I type words out but what are they really but symbols of how I feel or what I want you to know. I use these symbols to express my emotions to you. Your eyes pull these symbols from the screen and transfer them into words that your brain is charged with deciphering. In your brain they are analyzed and arranged into thoughts that make sense to you. If done correctly my words will coax an emotional response or two from you and have you fully understand what I am thinking in my own warped mind. This shit happens so fast that it’s impossible for us to even take the time to appreciate the profound exchange of thoughts that has transpired. Yet the messages are received thousands of times a day and ironically we give it nary a thought to the process.
The core belief of existentialism is that existence or the self precedes the essence of life. In other symbols it means that the me inside, the who that I am and how I integrate an react in the world around me is far more significant than how we came to be a a species. Not that I don’t care or don’t wonder where we came from and if there is a reason we are what we are, but being me, a good person who cares about other peoples dreams and desires is far more relevant to living. An existentialist does not need to be privy to the secrets or the meaning of life in order to live it. The meaning of life in a religious belief system on the other hand is determined by some form of deity or deities. A specific set of rules designed I suppose to explain to followers how they should live their lives and how the should express their gratitude. They make laws not telling people how to live, but telling people what not to do. They create consequences for any violation of those laws. Existentialists worship only life and the beauty it radiates as opposed to a specific entity who may or may not have created life. A nihilist believes life has no meaning or purpose at all. Nihilism embrace doctrines of hopelessness, despair, and eminent death. I have a hard time drawing any similarities between this and existentialism but many people for some reason seem to think they are alike. The existentialist is in contrast to other philosophies believe that there is no meaning necessary and reality is determined by the inner self, or individual. As in Buddhism one should accept that we are here, appreciate it, love life, and move on. Perhaps because they are so often confused with nihilists and challenged by Christians existentialists are sometimes misconstrued as religious combatants with disregard or even distain for life, faith, destiny, and even hope. It has become “hip” to be an existentialist and many use it as a way to gain coolness or appear intelligent. Many people envision existentialists as snooty intellects sitting in cafes in Europe discussing the important issues of the day. Personally I find those who are conveniently existential to be boring and chronically mediocre.
As an existentialist my time is never wasted to focus on circular or unanswerable questions, I just accept that some things simply exist. I have the freedom to choose what is important or meaningful to me and without restraints placed by any doctrines. I can freely use my time to appreciate that which I find beautiful. For instance when I see a waterfall I am free to contemplate it’s beauty. My not knowing why it is there or how it got there has no effect for me in its beauty. I accept an appreciate, the rest is insignificant. All of us witness millions of things daily that have deep rich histories and we barely even notice. How many tree’s did you see today? I can’t remember either, and I didn’t take the time to ponder the life of those tree’s or the trials and tribulations of their long existence, but it is wondrous none the less. The generations of birds that may have nested and raised families in the tree, the various squirrels and chipmunks that resied in it, the massive storms it endured, an the constant attacks from insects and bacteria. An old tree had a long arduous existence to become what it is today. There are so many amazing things with amazing histories and stories around us and as an existentialist it is not my responsibility to discover the value but rather the option to. I don’t lose sleep wondering who or what put them there or why they are there. What matters for me is that I take every opportunity to enjoy them. Free to choose what to place value on as it pertains to me as an individual. To this existentialist there is only one reason we are here. To enjoy and appreciate life during our existence and to interact with the things that come through my path. My responsibility is make as much of my life as possible be a positive experience. This philosophy focuses on inner search to discover how the self and the world can interact. Self actualization through meditation and an understanding of the complexities of life. It’s about how I integrate myself into the big picture. How I exist with the spinning orb of life we call Earth. Nothing organic ever leaves the earth because it’s a circle of life. We are recombinant beings made of matter that has been around longer than we could ever imagine. When something has reached the end of its life cycle it decomposes and feeds millions of tiny and some microscopic organisms which in turn contribute back to earth. These compost diners become food for larger beings and the circle goes on. So how does any of this relate to cooking and food? Let’s have a look.
Most people give little to no thought about what they are eating. Oh sure, we like what we like and we choose to eat what we like, and many people contemplate the nutritive or caloric value of their food, but they don’t really make an attempt to understand the food outside of what wine may or may not go well with it. An existentialist sees much more in the foods we eat. Food has history, is deeply embraced by cultures, is effected by weather and natural disasters, and has life cycles. Food was once a living organism. Very often foods are trained for our benefit to live its cycle for consumption. Whether farmed fruits and vegetables or farm raised animals these foods enter our body to be transformed into energy. Beyond that, as an existentialist baker (and formerly chef) we use our understanding of food and its interactions with human emotions to create foods that not only tantalize our taste buds, but bring out emotions in us. Joy, comfort, ecstasy. Words often used to describe how we feel after eating something especially delicious. It’s not just flavor, its preparation. As a chef or baker we understand that the emotion we put into our preparations will come through in the finished product.
Food has always been a major faction of world history. Famines and droughts have had major impacts on societies and countries, wars have been fought over food, and food was the very first form of monetary exchange. Whoever controlled the food had the power. Why the so called cradle of civilization only evolved us to a higher level of existence because humans learned how to control our environment and maximize the growth of food. The agricultural revolution. But these things are always taken for granted when we eat, even by me. That’s not where I take an existential approach, its more in the understanding of how foods interact with other foods, spices, beverages, and process of denaturization that occurs be it the cooking, agitation, cutting, or freezing to change the nature of the food.
For the sake of discussion I have chosen to deconstruct this meal. Sautéed chicken breast with crimini mushroom sauce, roasted asparagus spears, and mashed potatoes. Sounds delicious and relatively simple but lets see how much of a deeper appreciation we could have of this dish.
First the roast asparagus. Asparagus is a plant native to Europe and Northern Africa and is known to have existed as a food with medicinal value as far back as 20,000BC. That’s some old veggie spears there. Very nutritious and has a nice crisp green chlorophyll enriched fern head. Roasting this marvelous vegetable at very high temperature for 5 minutes with a splatter of oil and a sprinkle of sea salt leaves the bright color and full nutritive value in tact, while keeping it crisp and tasty. Now its ready to play a part in the overall look, taste, and balance of our dish. On to the potatoes.
What can you say about potatoes? The average person eats approximately 7 pounds of potato a year. This starchy tuberous delight can be prepared a zillion ways. Okay, not a zillion, but they are roasted, baked, re-baked, stuffed, boiled, scalloped, creamed, gratined, fried, and any combination thereof. The regal potato first came into existence in Peru and was brought back by the Conquistadores and spread rapidly throughout Europe. It nearly decimated Ireland which became dependant on this versatile veggie. So lets not take this common dining addition for granted, it’s a lot more than just a tasty and filling starch. It has a lot more power than we realize. So the potato adds two things to our dinner, a level of comfort and a feeling of strength. In our dish we have diced and boiled the potato and mashed it up with some butter, milk, and gruyere cheese for nutrition, and some salt and pepper and minced shallots for flavor. This will not only taste marvelous but assist in lending a sense of satiety in the meal so we will not be hungry 20 minutes later.
On to the star of the dish, the chicken. Along with our totalitarian form of farming we presently and for a long time have been raising “livestock” for our eating pleasure. We love our steaks and fried chickens and we don’t really want to know about the farms and slaughterhouses that regularly bring meats to out table. When you think about it its actually a cruel practice, imprisoning another living thing only to execute it when deemed ready for slaughter. But lets face it, who has the time or the wherewithal to hunt for the family food everyday? We need to eat after all, but again, we shouldn’t just take these domesticated fowls for granted. We sneak away the unhatched eggs (ew when ya think about it) for breakfast or other preparations and raise them for our eating pleasure. The chicken gives us much needed protein in order for us to grow strong and help develop us physically. The chicken has a rather neutral taste in an of itself which has lifted it to legendary status when used to describe just about any other food from alligator, to swordfish, to bear meat. Tastes just like chicken! That’s why we prepare it in different ways and add sauces or other enhancements to it. To sauté something is to panfry it on very high heat very rapidly. Sauté is French for jump, and the pan is so hot the food actually jumps up off the pan. This technique gives the outside a nice crisp texture and brings the natural sugars to the surface. We call this carmelization and it will add not only nutrition but texture and taste.
Our reconstructed dish is nearly complete. As it is the balance is beautiful. An array of tastes, aroma’s, textures, and nutrients are mingling and creating a powerful and emotion educing meal that has history vast and important. All it needs now is the finishing touch, the piece de resistance. A wonderful sauce made by deglazing the sauté pan (once the chicken breast has been removed and pan is still hot) with some Chablis wine. This will add some flavor and it will extract the flavors in the pan from the sautéed chicken. Once reduced we add some broth made from the chicken, and some heavy cream which will add richness and a coating texture. Add to that some cremini mushrooms. The cremini mushroom is a cousin of the typical white mushroom but a darker brown and firmer variety. If left to fully mature it will one day grow up to be a Portobello mushroom and take on an entirely different culinary presence. Now that truly balances all the flavors to create a perfect compliment to the dish. An existential delight. You need only accept that it is what it is and enjoy every last morsel.
A Mono-theist cooks because it’s a gift from their god, an Atheist cooks because he can, a Buddhist cooks because he needs to eat, a nihilist cooks but doesn’t know or care why, and an existentialist cooks because he knows he can bring life to food and food to life. That is the existential approach to cooking. An understanding of the importance of each and every component to the completion of the whole experience. It’s history, emotion, flavors, textures, and any other attributes work together as a team to be a treat especially created for your enjoyment. If something we have prepared with love and positive emotion brings out a feeling in the consumer then we have completed our task. Not merely just cooks or bakers, the existential culinary scientist brings much more than just food to the table. We bring a sensation of joy and happiness via the taste buds that hopefully find you smiling and maybe reminiscing of wonderful times in your past that foods prepared with love gave you a feeling of comfort. PEACE