blog 04 // me
Oh this? A tomato sandwich, yes! I'm rather surprised at your inquiry... well, I'm really quite glad. I have a lot on my mind, my friend, so perhaps you'll stay for a while? Here, take a closer look now... what do you think you see? Ha! You smirk! Is that some derision I sense? Well, you think I'm full of myself, don't you, and that I'm going to spiel about beauty in simplicity and whatever nonsense avant-garde chefs like to preach nowadays... Well, I don't take offense, but you might have been right. Ha ha. You seem to know a lot about me, huh? Given that you've taken such keen interest in this lovely one here, I might just forgive you for your presumption. Well. You don't need my forgiveness as much as I need you. You have a good eye! Rye, indeed, and tomatoes indeed! Now, the secret, if you can even call it that, is the salt! There is rarely understanding in cooking, even now, you see, only dogma. Why do we sweat the onions? Marco says, to remove the acidity, of course! Well, that's not how it works, Marco! Such nonsense! Well, thankfully there is not a deity of cuisine for me to blaspheme... I'm getting distracted already! You must remind me to stay on task, or my sandwich will have melted into itself. And melting! Goodness... nothing is melting, save some fats and sugars. Can't we be more precise? The salt dissolves! The onions break down, not melt! Now I've gotten myself worked up about all this... Ha ha, well. I suppose they are being figurative, but doesn't Orwell remind us not to use these stale metaphors? And how many times have you heard someone say, "the onions have melted down"? Anyway, why do we sweat the onions? Cooking, my friend, is all about improving the flavor and texture, isn't it? We cook to make delicious! The acrid sulfuric compounds break down, the Maillard reactions begin, and water is released to concentrate flavor. Cooking is chemistry! And so, back to those tomatoes—how may we improve their flavor? Well, while that may be true, adding spice is only an additive process, which doesn't quite feel like cooking to me... Yes... Salt is the answer! Have I said that already? Well, salt draws water from within the tomatoes, and water reduces flavor! Chefs must have some intuition of this; it must just be lost underneath all the preaching. I cannot blame them, of course, as the chef is the humblest and lowest position of them all, at least before the Marcos and Gordons and Anthonys of the world. And I have much to owe to them! My aspiration to be a chef-philosopher could have been quite the pitiful tragedy, if not for the sexy glamour we have gleaned from Hollywood. A romantic figure indeed! A self-pitying, chain-smoking, overworked, abusive man, grappling with the sufferings of existentialism and the misery of service all at once! I am, of course, none of these, as I am not a chef, nor am I a philosopher... I'm terribly sorry! I truly am! Well, I'll be honest with you—and I'm sure you can tell by now—this has always been about myself rather than you, but I promise, if you keep my friendship, there will be no more "Well"ing, no more... well, maybe some... Ha ha. I'm truly indulging myself too much, and I'm grateful for your good sport. The bread is Rye, yes. The perfect sandwich tomato should not be too sweet, nor should it be too tart. The earthy, sweet Rye should complement it! Nicely dense and toasted, of course—it would be a textural abomination to forget... and you must eat it immediately! Hot bread and cold tomato... Well, goodbye now, my friend... and if you remember nothing else, remember this: no philosophy worth keeping ever came without salt.
blog 04 // me
Oh this? A tomato sandwich, yes! I'm rather surprised at your inquiry... well, I'm really quite glad. I have a lot on my mind, my friend, so perhaps you'll stay for a while? Here, take a closer look now... what do you think you see? Ha! You smirk! Is that some derision I sense? Well, you think I'm full of myself, don't you, and that I'm going to spiel about beauty in simplicity and whatever nonsense avant-garde chefs like to preach nowadays... Well, I don't take offense, but you might have been right. Ha ha. You seem to know a lot about me, huh? Given that you've taken such keen interest in this lovely one here, I might just forgive you for your presumption. Well. You don't need my forgiveness as much as I need you. You have a good eye! Rye, indeed, and tomatoes indeed! Now, the secret, if you can even call it that, is the salt! There is rarely understanding in cooking, even now, you see, only dogma. Why do we sweat the onions? Marco says, to remove the acidity, of course! Well, that's not how it works, Marco! Such nonsense! Well, thankfully there is not a deity of cuisine for me to blaspheme... I'm getting distracted already! You must remind me to stay on task, or my sandwich will have melted into itself. And melting! Goodness... nothing is melting, save some fats and sugars. Can't we be more precise? The salt dissolves! The onions break down, not melt! Now I've gotten myself worked up about all this... Ha ha, well. I suppose they are being figurative, but doesn't Orwell remind us not to use these stale metaphors? And how many times have you heard someone say, "the onions have melted down"? Anyway, why do we sweat the onions? Cooking, my friend, is all about improving the flavor and texture, isn't it? We cook to make delicious! The acrid sulfuric compounds break down, the Maillard reactions begin, and water is released to concentrate flavor. Cooking is chemistry! And so, back to those tomatoes—how may we improve their flavor? Well, while that may be true, adding spice is only an additive process, which doesn't quite feel like cooking to me... Yes... Salt is the answer! Have I said that already? Well, salt draws water from within the tomatoes, and water reduces flavor! Chefs must have some intuition of this; it must just be lost underneath all the preaching. I cannot blame them, of course, as the chef is the humblest and lowest position of them all, at least before the Marcos and Gordons and Anthonys of the world. And I have much to owe to them! My aspiration to be a chef-philosopher could have been quite the pitiful tragedy, if not for the sexy glamour we have gleaned from Hollywood. A romantic figure indeed! A self-pitying, chain-smoking, overworked, abusive man, grappling with the sufferings of existentialism and the misery of service all at once! I am, of course, none of these, as I am not a chef, nor am I a philosopher... I'm terribly sorry! I truly am! Well, I'll be honest with you—and I'm sure you can tell by now—this has always been about myself rather than you, but I promise, if you keep my friendship, there will be no more "Well"ing, no more... well, maybe some... Ha ha. I'm truly indulging myself too much, and I'm grateful for your good sport. The bread is Rye, yes. The perfect sandwich tomato should not be too sweet, nor should it be too tart. The earthy, sweet Rye should complement it! Nicely dense and toasted, of course—it would be a textural abomination to forget... and you must eat it immediately! Hot bread and cold tomato... Well, goodbye now, my friend... and if you remember nothing else, remember this: no philosophy worth keeping ever came without salt.