The Process of Improvement

I don't like learning.

Okay that's too definitive of a statement. I don't like struggling to learn things. Not to toot my own horn, but the first thing I really learned was music and it came to me pretty easily. Classical music and schoolwork until high school was generally very easy (as I'm sure most of you Northwestern nerds also experienced), and I never really bothered to learn anything else (except the art of pwning n00bs .. which being Asian, also came pretty easily).

So it seems something of karmic justice that the two things I'm most passionate about would cause me great difficulty. Ultimate, pretty clearly was going to be difficult, given my portly past and lack of athletic training. But cooking was a wild card. What did the movie Ratatouille teach me? Anyone can cook! But I'm not sure that's totally true.

Don't get me wrong, anyone can cook, but to cook well in a professional kitchen takes a lot of good fundamental training and dedication. A common statement chefs like to tell their cooks to inspire greater work is, "Showing up is not enough," meaning just showing up to a kitchen and scraping by on your station is not helping anyone. You have to internally turn up your focus, you have to want to strive for perfection in everything you do, you can't take shortcuts.

And I do try to get everything just right, and it frustrates me that I can't. But I think I'm coming to a point where I'm realizing that I will make mistakes in my quest for flawless cooking technique. It's going to take a combination of a personal quest for knowledge and the helpful teachings of my fellow cooks alongside a lot of kitchen hours to get there though. It's going to take mental endurance and stubborn determination, because improvement is difficult to see internally, and when you care so much, failure can really takes it toll on you.

But sometimes, things just click and give you hope. I notice this in sports as well as with cooking. For instance,

I've probably thrown a frisbee over 50,000 times in my life (I actually tried to calculate this with Chris .. it's somewhere in that ballpark probably). I would say 60% of those were forehands, and 37% were backhands, and 3% were miscellaneous throws. My strongest throw is probably my forehand and forehand hucks because of this. Improving your big throws are hard though. I remember when I was just starting out that even a mild wind would frustrate a true flight pattern. I could get a disc to go 60+ yards but it would bend in at a bad angle, and take too much force of motion.

Then one day (I actually remember this) I went to toss with Colin on Deering Meadow. The hucks were just ON for some reason. Released with a slight I/O angle, flat flight pattern, tailing gently inwards after 65ish yards to hit the receiver in stride. All my throws that day were like this. I had achieved a perfect huck. All of a sudden I just got it. Felt the disc slipping tightly off my middle finger, and moving smoothly outwards. Now obviously my hucks aren't always that nice (especially now that I'm out of shape), but I understood the mechanics of it now and could replicate a "perfect huck" with at least 90% or better consistency.

That brief ultimate tangent was to describe to you the moment I had in the kitchen the other day. The thing I like to practice most are basic knife skills. Cutting vegetables, butchering meat, doing those with precision and speed is something I aspire to. I basically want Hung Huynh-like skill with ze blades. But I can be impatient with learning, as I mentioned before. When you cut an onion (or anything really) you want the blade to rest against your knuckles on your offhand. You make a repetitive chopping motion with your knife hand, and you guide the movement with your offhand. I can chop things quickly, but the cuts are not perfectly uniform because my guiding hand is off. I could do each action independently, but not together. I had similar difficulty with chickens, not finding the perfect spot where the joint naturally separates, instead slicing through the whole damn joint and causing unnecessary blood and damage.

Well, the Mexicans told me rather late in to prep that I had to make employee meal this past Saturday. Thankfully I could use a few chickens, but that meant I had about 10 minutes to break down five chickens and do something with them. Chuy was so kind to offer to make rice. Plain rice.

This is the closest I've come to doing a Top Chef Quickfire Challenge. I run to the walk-in and start pulling out shit. I run to the dry goods storage and start pulling things together. I throw the chickens down on the board, put on some gloves, steel my boning knife and kind of pray that this goes well. Thankfully, it's an employee meal so it doesn't have to be perfect, in fact the Mexicans suggest I roughly chop the chickens up. But I refuse, I am breaking down a chicken the proper way. For some reason I'm finding all the right joints, the cuts are pretty damn clean and I'm moving pretty fast. No extraneous blood on the board. The smartass American cook is asking me when the meal will be out by. I say 4:30. He goes "Alriiiiiiiight..." Shut your face, I'm busy. Don't be such a hater.

Before I know it the chickens are quite beautifully (at least for me) broken down in to about 10 pieces per bird, and sitting in a bowl. Alright, now what do I do with them? I get 2 red onions, 2 yellow onions, a couple of old tomatoes, and some Yukon gold potatoes. I start chopping like a mad man. An epiphany or something happens. My guiding hand is moving the knife along perfectly, the slices are probably 97% uniform. Toss those in a bowl with oil and dried oregano, throw it down on a sheet tray. Next, chickens. I go to the spice rack and start pouring shit in a bowl. Spanish paprika, cumin, ground coriander, cayenne pepper, oregano, barbecue seasoning (yeah I know, I picked that up and was like, what?! Okay...) and salt/pepper. I rub down all the chickens, throw it on top of the veg and bake in the oven. I'm worried they might be over spiced, but I hope for the best.

Chicken is done at 4:34. So I'm a little off. Whatever. Put it out and I'm really eager to try it. I snipe a leg and take a bite. Heyyyyy! This is pretty damn good!

I wait to see what the others think. I'm like a sorority girl on a date, I am dying for a compliment.

"The chicken is good, guey."
"Maybe you should make family meal always."

Oh my god. I would open myself sexually to you right now if you want. Now I understand how compliments work!

Later my Chef comes up to me to talk to me about the new antipasti menu, my pet project which I"ll discuss later, and goes.

"Hey .... good chicken."

YOU LOVE ME! I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT ALONG, YOU ACTUALLY LIKE ME! SEE! I HAVE A SENSE OF TASTE!

Man, I was on a roll that day. Things just seemed to click. I hope I don't go back on Wednesday only to find that this was a fluke, but alas who knows? It was a little forward in the spice profile, next time I would've added a touch of honey and a few lemons to add a rich, sweet component and a fresh, acidic brightness to keep the flavors distinct. I wanted to prove I could do Asian food, but I ran out of time. Sweet and sour chicken is to Asian food, as McDonald's chicken nuggets is to American food. I could rock that. And indulge in all the guilt-ridden deliciousness with glee.

My next project will be a home-cooking adventure. Yeah, you heard right, I am going to cook at home and do a damned good job of it. And not bitch too much about washing the dishes. I'm thinking a Ruhlman-esque challenge of making a BLT, my style.

Braised pork belly (sofrito, salt/pepper, chipotle pepper, cayenne and coca cola)
Pickled fennel shavings
Butter lettuce (is that even in season? Probably not ... winter sucks)
Tomato jam combined with the reduced braising liquid (which should have coca-cola-ey goodness)
And last but not least ... a solid, homemade mayonnaise on a good, crusty bread (ciabatta or fresh baguette probably) to texturally contrast the fall-apart goodness of the pork belly.

Input? Tomatoes are horrendously out of season so using canned tomatoes and making a fondue/jam out of it seems to be the best idea. I am hungry just thinking about it. I hope I get to have my own sandwich shop some day. Nothing better than a sandwich and some fresh-fried potato chips.

I digress ... a lot. Love and peace,

EP #6