Musings
You Take it, and you Make it.
I find myself looking ahead at this New Year and already my expectations are high- my dreams are too many-too big- and overwhelming. It’s a typical habit of mine. So, I wonder what I can do to narrow the scope. Towards the end of 2016 I find myself with several notebooks full of lists, brainstorm diagrams, cartoon drawings, concept art, etc. : ideas written on c-folds, post its, pieces of green tape, various restaurant’s menus and guest tickets- of a thing that I’ve been gearing up to do for over a year. Of “this thing I’m working on”. I keep talking about it, trying to narrow down what it is going to be. A website? A magazine? A blog? And who it will serve. Myself? Will it give a written voice to these crazy subjects that I have become so passionate about? I think-ugh. Does anyone even want to know what I think?
An example of my messy brainstorming. A draft half formed.
One of the people who has inspired me immensely this past year to continue to put pen to paper, even when I’ve yet to have something to show for it- is a friend of mine who manages to just make amazing things. Regularly. I frustratingly compare to this truly remarkable ability to work hard to my haphazard collection of notes and feelings of inadequacy. To my concern that nothing I do is ready yet or perfect yet- so it stays in this constant state of gestation. Ideas are happening, but nothing is made. I try to remind myself that it doesn’t have to be “finished”. That just getting notes down is a start. That an outline from those notes is a step, that writing a draft, and even publishing it with all of the fear that entails- is something. Is work. I try to remind myself that I can come back to it. Add in photos. That I shouldn’t stop taking photos because I’m so disappointed in the ones I have. Don’t stop taking things in. Don’t stop trying to make it.
“Don’t stop taking things in. Don’t stop trying to make it.”
To be completely honest- this whole post started because I wanted to share my friend’s end of the year post in a more meaningful way than simply reposting it to my Facebook wall. It was more about highlighting his work and my admiration of it. I hope to start to showcase these people in my life who are amazing! At least, that’s another idea I’ve written down somewhere. So I started to write, but here this draft has sat for weeks. Now that I’ve returned, it’s become a vastly different story.
Here I work towards yet another goal, better photos through editing.
In any case, before I forget- please take a moment to check out some of what Justin Khanna is doing on YouTube (his Hong Kong Video is still one of my favorites) , and on medium for his 2017 Playbook. A piece that is much more thought out than this writing has turned out to be.
For me- I feel like the pregnancy of “this thing I want to do” has been a big part of 2016. I plan to see it through to being a tangible, made part of 2017. I am willing to grow it as organically, and hopefully less messily than all of my crazy notes. I plan to push myself to write, to create, to continue to take pictures and draw concepts, and this year- I’m going to share them. Really.
A foray into wine studies
I feel I understand what may have motivated Maryse Chevriere of freshcutgardenhose to illustrate wine descriptions .
I’m currently reading a treatise of a wine style by a Master of Wine. I stumbled upon the website Tastingworks.com recently in my very broad stab at researching what I refer to as “my next move”. I have found myself captivated by this academic and erudite approach to wine. Yet while her very technical knowledge is incredible and worth a second and even third read, I still have eye crossing moments, as I visualize phrases like :
“…like peeking into a barn filled with bruised golden delicious and razor apples”
or
“The tannins resemble vibrating cello strings”.
Now, as a former cello student, I know what a vibrating cello string looks like. How does that translate to the 2007 Château Rayas that Lisa Granik MW was referring too? How does that look? How does that taste? Now I want to know. Lisa Granik’s writing is challenging in a way that I love. I am fumbling through. An amateur in the most real understanding of the term. I have made one of my newest Moleskin notebook acquisitions into a messy list of terms to look up. Wine terms, dictionary terms. I am reading what feels like an academic paper. One that showcases an immense amount of knowledge and expertise and yet is still engaging. I would love to find a writing style that is somewhere between where I am now and what she does. It is inspiring.
What my reading has reminded me again and again is that truly I am a wine noob. I begin to read one of Tastingwork’s blogs about Châteauneuf-du-Pape and find myself flummoxed as I try to understand the context. I can’t at first. I’m lost. Wait, all of the times that my friend John referred to this wine I assumed it was the name of a wine. It’s not? There are different CDP’s? Is it a region? No-not exactly. What? What’s an AC? How does that apply- what? What? Having to relearn what I was reading about before I could go on reading about it- that’s a new one. I start to think about the assumptions that John had to have made in his references to this wine. And the assumptions that I made while listening to him. I started to think about the way he refers to wine as an educated professional. Do I talk that way about food to him? And to others? I’m sure that I do.
I know that I do. You should see my recipe notebooks. Most of the recipes are simply a list of ingredients. Sometimes there are brackets and arrows as the only instruction. Some that have instruction are written in a restaurant shorthand. Sentences like “Whip eggs as to make pate bombe.” or “Temper in eggs (Anglaise).” Don’t even get me started on Baker’s percentages. Sheesh.
In my most roundabout way I am trying to get to three general points.
One: People who have immersed themselves in a course of study and a community of other people who do the same have a tendency to forget that everyone else might not know what they know. So when someone- like my sommelier friend John, assumes that I know exactly what he’s talking about- I should take that as a compliment. And then feel free to ask questions. Lots of questions.
Two: When I talk about things that I am immersed in and surrounded by, I should take care not to assume that everyone around me knows what I’m talking about.
Three: Maybe when we are intimidated by a culture or a person, or assume that there is a level of snobbery associated with it that feels unbreachable- that some of that doesn’t necessarily come from a condescending place.
“…The whole part of the restaurant industry that just seems over the top sometimes: can and should include a certain amount of humor.”
Beyond this- there is something else that I LOVE to point out… Wine descriptions, food descriptions, the whole part of the restaurant industry that just seems over the top sometimes; can and should include a certain amount of humor. There are a lot of things to learn. Just, don’t forget to laugh. And don’t forget that it’s good to ask questions. It’s great to find something that makes you pull out a dictionary. Or, well, ask the internet.
And if you haven’t seen Maryse’s amazing illustrations on instagram yet, please do. She’s incredibly talented. Just won a James Beard Award in fact. But more importantly, she has a good sense of humor.
Relevent Links:
Find Lisa Granik’s brilliant writing at Tastingworks
Enjoy Maryse Chevriere on instagram at freshcutgardenhose
Stop by and see what I’m up to on instagram at amandavertigo
Things happening, Things to come.
It’s my birthday, and I’ll work if I want to.
I’ve been in Norway for over a month already, and I’m terribly behind in writing about it. I feel remiss in my responsibility to all of my friends and family who have been encouraging and engaged in my adventures. Today I begin an attempt to rectify my lack of prose.
An incredibly generous friend of mine has lent me his old laptop for a few weeks, and I am making an effort to play catch up. (And figure out this laptop’s operating system. Grr.) I’m almost overwhelmed trying to figure out where to start. So I’ll do what I would do if I was tackling a huge project at work… Write a prep list, and start with the things that I know I can do quickly, or with tasks that I know are a priority. To that effect, catching up means a lot of the posts that may follow will not be in chronological order. I hope that I can find a voice in my writing that can convey my excitement and happiness, as well as my ongoing battle to find my awkward moments funny rather than embarrassing. My time so far at Lysverket in Bergen and at Minibakeriet in Eid has been nothing short of wonderful. I have loads of photos, and stories to tell.
Oh, and today I turn 30. And yes, instead of out partying, I am sitting at the kitchen table “catching up” on “getting back” to the people I care about. This feels good. More on my new age later, I assume. For now, in response to the question I’ve already gotten a few times today: “How does it feel?” I say: “Like I moved to Europe. Shit.”
Thank you for bearing with me.
Love,
Amanda
She who has the biggest pantry…
Almost exactly a month ago, my coworker Myles strides into the prep kitchen with a huge smile and a warm greeting, much like he often does. Then he quite triumphantly drops down his prize: his own copy of Sean Brock’s new book, Heritage. I can sometimes be a real brat, and while I jokingly pointed out that he could have gone to Strand Books and bought it for less than at Kitchen Arts and Letters (both stores that I adore), I had time for a moment or two of appreciation for the book and for his enthusiasm. Within the opening pages of Heritage, Sean Brock shares his Manifesto of twenty-two bulleted items which include phrases like “Listen to your tongue, it’s smart.” and “Eat with your hands as much as possible.” When our friend and Executive Chef Morgan arrived soon after, there ensued the first of many discussions concerning the final statement of Brock’s Manifesto: “He who dies with the biggest pantry wins.”
This statement has maybe become something of a culinary world catchphrase, but it’s sentiment is not new. Certainly not in any of the kitchens that I have previously worked. This just brings it to the forefront of the conversation. In a pretty entertaining way. So hats off to Sean Brock. I haven’t managed to read the book as much as I’d like, its on our (still pretty empty) cookbook shelf in the office next to Tartine Bread, Manresa, and a few others. I’ll get back to it soon, if I don’t get distracted by the next shiny new book.
The restaurant where Morgan, Myles, and I all work is a new one. Our day to day is still taking shape. Our pantry is still taking shape. Aided by the hilarious but very true statement made in Heritage (as well as many other “hilarious” moments from our mutual past) we are making strides to have a versatile and well, bigger, larder. We do laugh a bit at ourselves while we make the attempt to expand, and find where our footprint will lie, but the solid reasoning behind it is this: When you have more variety and better quality ingredients available to you, there is more room for versatility and creativity. It can also be more cost effective, and a fantastic way to bring summer or spring vegetables with you through the winter. Pickled, cured, jellied, jammed, fabricated into oils, vinegar, dried, etc. There are amazing things that can come from extending the life of extra vegetables. Even over-ordering mistakes. The same can be said for our attempt to source local ingredients, continuing to spend time at the Green Markets every week. Even when we can’t buy it, we check in. It’s partly about what is at peak and local, and partly about keeping the conversation fresh, the ideas rolling as we push towards our goal of great ingredients made tasty, simply. Morgan is the driving force, but we are behind him, adding fuel to the wood burning fire, so to speak.
As the Pastry Chef, I try to participate in the conversation, and once in a while I can shut up long enough to listen. It’s pretty entertaining hearing the moments of real excitement that these discussions can bring. I very much share it. If I could fill a shelf in the dry storage with whatever Valrhona product they would let me buy, I would. As an equally enthusiastic savory cook, I am thrilled every time the Flying Pigs Farm delivery arrives: half a whole pig slung over some poor guy’s shoulders lands on our immense butcher block table at least once a week. That pig quickly becomes fabricated in a way that will use as much of it as we possibly know how. Loin, ham, hock, shoulder, head, ribs, bones, fat back becomes large roasts, sausages, terrines, stock, bacon, lardo, etc. It’s pretty impressive. At least I think so. We may push to keep our P.M.A. (positive mental attitude) up, to be ready for service, to do our best with whatever is happening around us. We may struggle to pay our rents, to see our families, interact with normal humans, to wake up ready to take the new day without the pain and frustration of the last. The shiny new cookbooks help. The inspiration and the drive of competition helps. Keeps us interested, keeps us from getting lost in the ennui of the day to day. For us, a little bit of laughs, a lot of perseverance, and taking pride in our work are huge factors in what keeps us in Chinese collars and fancy aprons (if we managed to do our laundry that is).
I‘ll finish reading Heritage first before I confirm that it is worth a read. I’m sure it is. The “manifesto” most definitely is. It reminds me a lot of Thomas Keller’s Core Values, 12 words that shaped a lot of my professional conduct. These ideas and values are not new, but are good to know. Thanks to Sean Brock for the laughs you probably didn’t mean to evoke, and for the reminder.
For more about Sean Brock, link to the New Yorker’s 2011 article here: True Grits
To take a peak at what we’ve got on our shelf at C&C (these are Amazon links, but I will encourage supporting a local bookstore): Heritage ,Tartine Bread, Manresa Edible Reflection
but you can’t have Myles’ copy. You’ll have to get your own. Here are links to some of my favorite places in NYC to get (or just look at) cookbooks:
New York Public Library (because there isn’t always room in my apartment, or my budget).
If you are in S.F., I still have a soft spot for Green Apple Books. I haven’t yet been to Omnivore Books, but I have heard good things.
If you are in Brooklyn, come visit Morgan, Myles, and I at Cow & Clover. We’d be happy to see you.
This One is Mine 