I want to talk about passion.
Although there are many people who pooh-pooh the English language (often for the use of words such as pooh-pooh) because of its confusing grammatical rules, because of its ambiguity and indecision, personally, I love that aspect. A word like passion has a multitude of definitions and implications. Okay, so not exactly a literal multitude. But in usage, in the passionate description of desire, of resilience, of pushing for a goal, there passion finds its fervor. Having lived in the United States for the past year, I can tell you that here, utility is a more popular explanation than that declared by Noah Webster's ink strokes. We even have a word for it: Colloquialism.
So...with that in mind, I want to talk about 'passion' and its representations.
And since we eat literally on this blog: I want to talk about passionate cooking.
If you read Escoffier, Carême, Ruhlman, Bourdain, (and more obviously Chelminski), passion in food is about creativity and experimentation. While many of that list preached exclusive obedience to their personal vision (Escoffier, the 'father of food', was the disciplinarian type of pater), that vision was more often than not a piece-meal tapestry of different influences and experiences. New sauces, new platings and new combinations.
That much is obvious. You didn't need me to explain to you that these types have passion.
So what about someone like M.F.K. Fisher? Fisher was not a cook. She didn't create anything...Okay, well; she created some books, but let's ignore that for the sake of this point, shall we? SO, Fisher had passion, had drive, without being new. She considered eating as much of an art as cooking, but I don't know how many people agree with her. In culinary school, you sit alongside a number of young'ns who all want to be the next Thomas Keller or Ferran Adrià. And they don't keep these goals to themselves. I actually heard one of my classmates declare to a professor "I want to be on T.V.".
I think I actually vomited into my mouth a little bit when that hit my ears.
Am I the only one who thinks that goals like that (as well as my reaction) are the opposite of good cooking/eating?
Anyways...these fledglings all have gimmicks and ideas at hand, ready for the opportunity to release the gooey chunks of their passion on the world.
I don't.
For years, I have struggled with the knowledge that I don't see food in a new way, that my suggestions are mostly reenactments of previously experienced plates, that given a cucumber my first thought is not to pair it with Pimm's #1 in a sorbet, but to throw it in a salad. Boring, I know.
I'll never be Keller, but, maybe, perhaps, someday, I might be Fisher.
Despite my monotony in cooking, I love food. Eating it, working with it, seeing how it grows and develops, how it can evoke memories, laughter, lovemaking. I just finished an incredibly challenging internship with one the highest ranked restaurants in the East...*coughs*...that might explain all my 'radio silence' by the way...And I had my exit interview today. My Chef at this restaurant, while good at many things, lacks a certain finesse when it comes to feedback. Essentially, he's only good at the bad stuff. I can't really say I have ever heard him give a direct compliment in six months.
I had to push him to tell me anything nice. Finally, in response to a very direct, frankly worded: "WHAT ARE MY STRENGTHS???” He snorted, as if to say don't you know? and said "Your passion, of course".
He couldn't tell me that I had any skills at tasting or plating, or banging pans...but he knew I loved it. He knew that I pushed myself to be better, that for all my clumsiness and lack of grace, I cared.
But is that going to be enough?
How far can passion take you, if it isn't also paired with passionate skill? I don't know.
But I'll keep you posted.
Comments