You might have noticed that I do not write "real" recipes. I can't follow them and I definitely can't claim to write them. Just today I stumbled on validation for this approach:
A quote from chef Jacques Pepin (originally in the Spring 1999 issue of Yale Magazine):
"If you’re able to taste a dish somewhere, and you say, 'Gee, that’s a really good idea,' that’s all you need to know. But if I do a recipe for the New York Times or a new cookbook, then I have to say how long it stays in the oven and how hot the oven should be, because the editors ask. They’ll say, 'How long was it in the oven?' 'Well, 35 minutes,' I answer. Now I am stuck with those 35 minutes, and it will probably never happen to be 35 minutes for someone else. The fact of writing the recipe down destroys the recipe by definition. Because as you write it down, you tell people, 'This is the way it has to be done.' It’s never the way it has to be done. It just happened to be the way I did it this time because the chicken looked a certain way and I reacted to its look. And then I increased or reduced the heat or I added a cup of water because the situation demanded it. And yet the chicken will never react exactly this way the next time, and the adjustments will be different. The important thing is the taste at the end of cooking."
"If you’re able to taste a dish somewhere, and you say, 'Gee, that’s a really good idea,' that’s all you need to know. But if I do a recipe for the New York Times or a new cookbook, then I have to say how long it stays in the oven and how hot the oven should be, because the editors ask. They’ll say, 'How long was it in the oven?' 'Well, 35 minutes,' I answer. Now I am stuck with those 35 minutes, and it will probably never happen to be 35 minutes for someone else. The fact of writing the recipe down destroys the recipe by definition. Because as you write it down, you tell people, 'This is the way it has to be done.' It’s never the way it has to be done. It just happened to be the way I did it this time because the chicken looked a certain way and I reacted to its look. And then I increased or reduced the heat or I added a cup of water because the situation demanded it. And yet the chicken will never react exactly this way the next time, and the adjustments will be different. The important thing is the taste at the end of cooking."
Now if only I was as talented as Jacques...!
PS If you're looking for great recipes --and beautiful photos-- from a local Ithacan, check out Eggs on Sunday
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