soupnancy

 

Choose quality, buy local

Out with the big and bland, in with the small, sweet and succulent

 

by Nancy Hinton (food writing 2004)

 

I just got back from some shopping in the city, and I’m outraged. It’s the height of the strawberry season in Quebec, and at a certain Westmount grocer’s, I see only California strawberries! And summer squash from Peru, and all these other overly packaged, all too pristine and perfect fruit and veg in the place of the abundant local crop. How do they get away with it? Its not like this is an isolated case either; mass produced imports are everywhere, while the higher quality, local produce requires hunting down, trips across town. It would appear that this is what the consumer wants, which I can hardly imagine. Especially that its not just a matter of principle, its about taste and freshness. Produce at its peak from a neighboring farm is bound to taste better than strains bred for sturdiness picked too early, shipped thousands of miles by truck to be shot with ethylene gas to ripen at the warehouse beore being shipped to stores. I see the fields and stalls in the country, I know what’s in season, what’s out, what’s not. But obviously, the average city dweller doesn’t, or doesn’t care, and certainly isn’t encouraged to inquire. He probably trusts that his vendor is providing him with what is best, and he’s been duped.

The state of our food supply is on my mind a lot lately as I become increasingly close to farmers, and pay more attention to what’s on store shelves and in people’s baskets. I now realize how ignorant I was too about where my food came from or how it was produced before I went to work as chef in the country, met the likes of Anne Desjardins, and actually saw the crops growing, met the farmers and listened to their stories. Looking back, it strikes me as screwed up that even a plugged in chef like me could be in the dark about so many things. What’s Mr. Joe Blow who doesn’t spend all day thinking about food supposed to do, he can hardly to to blame. There’s this big machine of a backwards system that controls what we eat, and wants to keep it that way too. The clout of big agri-business, the fact that the big guys are heavily subsidized, coupled with the difficulties of setting up networks for a different distribution for such a short growing season make it hard for the artisans to compete. Who would have thought that there was so much fraud and scandal in the world of fruits and vegetables? I’ve even encountered imports being sold as local at the market, where I guess some people do care...

The fact is is that there is an abundance of quality local produce that doesn’t make it to the shelves of our superstores or vegetable perveyors because they aren’t willing to pay the price, or make the efforts involved in dealing with the little guys, preferring to buy cheaper or easier industrial imports. Until people start putting more pressure on their grocers by not buying this stuff, or making special requests, things won’t change fast enough to save our small local farmer.

There has been some progress, if you consider the promotion of local foodstuffs and artisans on top restaurant menus, the popularity of the farmers’ markets, the growing size of organic sections in the supermarkets, the rise in interest in food culture in general. Given our agricultural history, and cultural tradition of eating well, you’d think it would be more important in our collective conscience. There is some food ethics activism stirring, but it has yet to come mainstream. If the people who can afford to pay a little extra for better food aren’t doing it, then we have along way to go to make it affordable for everyone. Chefs like Anne Desjardins and Normand Laprise made a grass roots start 20 years ago in their support of local farmers, in parallel with organizations like Equiterre who now supply many city dwellers with farm baskets. They were promised a hopeful future, but the fact is that we haven’t come all that far, and those that are still around are still struggling.

All because most of us are too busy to care, because we’re so influenced by convenience and packaging and corporate advertising, or because we feel too squeezed financially to explore what is perceived to be a much more expensive way of eating. (In fact we spend less than we ever did on food and half as much of our income as European countries, we just spend more on Ipods or something). In the city, its so easy to be oblivious to the hows and whys of the farm, the cause and effect of the weather, what practices are sound or not, who is doing what right, who is not. However, we have to ask these questions so that we can make intelligent choices for our own pleasure and health, but also to support those producers in our backyard who toil with their hearts and good sense to produce quality over those that have no regard for anything but the bottom line. We would be getting much more bang for our buck, real flavor, and heirloom varieties that wouldn’t survive the long haul of transport, all while supporting the local economy. We consumers have the power to choose, and can make a difference with our dollar.

 

 

 

Coming out of the closet

I’m a chef and yes, a real girl

 

by Nancy Hinton (Food writing 2004)

It took me 10 years to consolidate the two. In an interview recently, I realized this, that I had been in denial, repressing my female self the whole time I was focused on my career as a chef.

Not that I was ever a girly girl by any means. In fact, I preferred water guns to dolls as a child, and always liked rough and tumble play. Playing tough, swearing profusely, flexing my muscles, and competition have always been up my alley. So, I took to the restaurant world quite well, and naturally set out to be one of the boys.

I unconsciously decided that this would be the best way to deal with this macho world. I would avoid bringing attention to the fact that I was a girl, while proving myself and earning their respect. I instinctively knew that I would have to work harder, not slip up or get emotional, not give them anything to hold against me, no fodder for tasteless jokes. I learnt that the safest, surest way to survive as a woman was to ignore the nonsense, the derrogatory, crude remarks, and be the bigger man. I would do longer hours, be as tough or tougher than them, take on extra tasks, take iniative, and lead the way. I read, read, read so as to know more than them, to have some kind of leverage, to gently and firmly take my place. I would bring in new ideas and ways of doing things, but always presented in such a way that shortly after, they might even think it was their own idea. I had to be strong, without threatening their masculinity. I would lug that sack of potatoes down a flight of stairs, fling pans across the room, and swear like a trucker. It was fun for a while, but happily, I slowly grew up, became comfortable and mellowed.

Now, I have the confidence and knowledge to freely be myself, a woman with all my particular strengths and weaknesses. And I also clearly see what qualities and positive dynamic women bring to the professional kitchen.

I know more than anyone that one cannot generalize too much along gender lines, that it is the individual that counts. However, I feel comfortable in saying that these qualities that are typically seen as feminine qualities, are indeed particularly suited to a professional kitchen.... Meticulousness, Organization, Cleanliness, A natural inclination for care-giving, the desire to please, Communication skills, Good common sense, Patience, Creativity, Aesthetic sense, Resilience...

All these attributes aside, the thing is... women are generally complex, even complicated, and this is how they can wreak havoc in a kitchen. I would have resented hearing a male chef say this years back, but my experience has backed up what the boys had been saying all along. Even Anne told me that she was looking for a male when she hired me, mostly to please her male sous-chefs who had had it up to there with whiney chicks. Thankfully, she didn’t follow through, as I know I never would either. Because we all secretly know that when the right woman is in her element, she rules... When it doesn’t work, it goes like this...

For women, often, their personal and emotional lives are of prime importance and take up a lot of space, so they have a harder time not bringing their baggage to work. They ask for more time off, call in sick more often. They are often more sensitive, take things more personally, and demand more fairness and logic in the way things work. Unfortunately, as it is in professional kitchens, fairness and logic are not always a priority, at least not in the moment. Girls often find the high pressure and brutal atmosphere hard on the morale, and always want to talk things out. Sometimes, that’s a necessary thing for the social health of the kitchen dynamic if it’s done at the end of the shift. Sometimes things need to be sorted out if you’re going to go through it all over again the next day. But sometimes, it’s just a pain in the ass. I kind of like the sport-like spirit of whatever happens in the rush stays in the rush, you have a drink together at the end of the night, and wash away all the troubles, without having to hash everything out. Afterall, at the end of the night, everyone is exhausted and its over, no hard feelings, ok?

I remember a couple of very complicated women in my brigade who never fit in, and wore me out with their constant haggling and need to talk every detail out every night. I put in so much energy to make it work to no avail; it never ended. I then went through a phase when I half joked about not hiring any more women (or anglos for that matter). Its true that some women are not cut out for the work; I don’t see anything wrong with saying that. It’s because they don’t really want it, which is fine, and many actually do opt out after a few years. But when the right woman does come along who is passionate, tough and talented, she is dynamite. Oh ya, I already said that.

The main reason there aren’t more women in high ranking chef positions is that they choose not to, not from a lack of skill or character, but because it doesn’t correspond to their life goals. The nature of the work with the long hours, working weekends and holidays, just doesn’t jive with an active social life. The hard physical work, the macho atmosphere, the hot, sticky, dirty environment, the hierarchial structure, are all things that don’t appeal to alot of women. Forget about what the heat and grease and water do to your skin and nails, what always wearing a hat does to your hair. And you don’t get to dress up every day in the latest fashions. My girlfriends always look at me in pity for those reasons. They wouldn’t be caught dead with hands that look like mine.

All the superficial stuff aside; most of all, women in the industry find it difficult to coordinate a chef’s job with kids and family. By the time a woman works her way up the ladder, gathering enough experience to get that executive chef job, her biological clock is ticking, and she chooses to shift to a morning pastry position, or catering or teaching, forgoing the crazy, workaholic life of a chef in exchange for a balanced family life.

That’s why there aren’t more top women chefs. They don’t want the job. Many have what it takes no doubt. The doors are open for those who want it, they just have to really want it.

The climate is changing though. I’ve seen huge change in my 10 years. And as more and more women enter professional kitchens, the less macho the atmosphere will be, the more fair and civil operations will be, and the less threatening it will be for other women who don’t necessarily want to play the boy.

All in all, I believe there are only good things ahead for girls and boys and the professional kitchen. Girly boys, and boyish girls, together, allowed to be the individuals they are, and the dedicated chefs they are, are already forging a new dynamic, as modern cuisine is rising to new heights.

 

Crazy:  Losing touch with reality while slaving away at the stove

Nancy Hinton (Food writing 2004)

The job of a chef is gaining glamour and public interest, but there is more than meets the eye. In fact, the life of a professional cook is an all encompassing, challenging, demanding, highly satisfying, yet ultimately disorienting job.

The restaurant kitchen is a peculiar place. There are strange rules, strict hierarchy and discipline, but you find the childishness of a schoolyard, the superstitions of a cult. Cooks face absolute deadlines less flexible than an editor’s. The precision of a technician is required inorder to survive. The atmosphere can have the intensity of an operating room. But instead of doctors, you find the characters from a circus. Not unlike a circus or some theatrical production, the curtain opens, and the cooks do their kitchen dance, people are stepping over eachother in a mad fury, rushing to and fro, flipping, plating, while the maestro waves his wand or shouts obscenities. With the synchonicity and timing of a classical piece, and the improvisation of good jazz, they play their notes, eager to please. On most nights, they need the stamina of a marathon runner, and the tolerence for heat of a cement mixer on a hot roof.

They sniff and taste all day long, nurture their plants, their produce and the curing hams, they nitpick over a myriad of details in the preparation and presentation of the dishes. It’s all about the food, and as they are so in tune with their meat, fish, fruits and vegetables, food takes on a distorted importance. Their perspective can’t help but be skewed. They spend way too much money on food, and develop strong opinions about food. How could someone eat veal with ketchup? A filet well-done, blasphemy! How could someone not like butter? Or be allergic to carrots? How could someone not understand that taking the mushrooms out of a dish wrecks the whole balance?

The cook functions in a world of heightened senses due to the emphasis on taste, touch and smell, as well as the constant heat, pressure and confined space of a kitchen. There are rarely windows in a restaurant kitchen, most are closed off from the dining room. This all makes for an environment where certain behaviors that would seem barbaric in the real world become acceptable, even normal. Like swearing profusely, telling off color jokes, engaging in sudden emotional outbursts and playing juvenile tricks on one another. They like to bitch, even if they love their jobs. They thrive on adrenalin, are good at holding their bladders for extended periods of time, and frequently suffer from carpal tunnel syndrome. They eat at obscene hours, and smoke and drink alot. They stay up late. They do more cooking and eating and partying, as well as their laundry and shopping on Sundays and Mondays. They never spend nights, weekends or holidays with their family or friends, so they live with a lot of guilt. Which makes them smoke and drink more.

In such a fast paced, severe, chaotic, physical yet artistic world with so many variables and unpredictable customers, and a new show to put on everyday, its no wonder chefs are crazy. Like the chicken and the egg, we aren’t sure which comes first the crazy or the chef, but in this surreal world, there is no doubt that if a fully engaged cook isn’t crazy to begin with, he certainly will be sooner or later.

 

Molecular Gastronomy

Nancy Hinton, Ste-Adèle, 2004 (edited 2006)

This term (molecular gastronomy) makes me laugh. Of course, gastronomy and cookery are molecular, that’s nothing new. What’s new is that we’re beginning to understand what’s going on in the stockpot on a molecular level, we now have the tools. Cooking is now deemed legitimate subject matter for scientists to study, there are a bunch of curious cooks, and so the field is booming.

Its only natural that we get excited. Finally, technology has caught up with us and our cooking. After more than a hundred years of the cooking profession as we know it, we are finally learning exactly how egg yolks emulsify to make mayonnaise. So, now we find out that we don’t actually need 3 yolks per cup of oil, we could even use one, or even none at all, if we coax enough of the protein from the white, or help it out with some gelatin. So, old myths are being broken, golden rules are being scrutinized, reinforced or qualified. New techniques and approaches are being developed across the board.

Being from a scientific background, I was naturally immediately drawn to the science of cooking. For me, it first of all provided a sound transition into what I perceived to be a flaky world. In my first week of culinary school, my teacher gave me the Harold McGee book (On Food and Cooking) and I was enchanted. You mean, there is THIS much to cooking, WOW! I could have my science and eat it too. More importantly, the scents and feel of the kitchen subsequently took over, the beauty of the classics seduced me, and I never looked back.

Once I had learned the traditional basics, the science provided another level of interest and meaning. I soon realized that although not of primary importance, any scientific understanding gave me more power as a cook. I could make bridges, deduce things without having to repeat them 100 times, and I could break the rules if I knew what was going on, what each step in a recipe stood for.

What’s a Chantilly? Fat and liquid whipped with air, with some natural stabilizers, protein. So, take any fat, any liquid, find the right proportion and whip air into it. Help it out with some protein if there isn’t any naturally present. You can make chocolate chantilly without cream, use chocolate as the fat, orange juice as the liquid, and voilà.

What’s mayo? An emulsion of liquid and oil, held into place with protein. So take garlic and oil (the original aioli), there is water and protein in the garlic, and then you have the oil, voilà. Ok, so you may have to whip harder if a good emusifier like egg yolk isn’t present, but still.

What’s mousse? Basically, a cooked mayo-like emulsion. Water, protein, oil, and heat. So take duck stock as the liquid, foie gras fat as the oil, gelatin as the protein, and cook it. Voilà, a duck mousse without cream or eggs. Is it better? That’s not the point now.

Why are we taught that there are four tastes (salt, sweet, sour, bitter), or five, if you’re from Japan (+umami), and what about that tongue map (sweet in front, sour on the sides, bitter in the back etc.) when this is scientifically proven to be inaccurate? Like now we know there are fifty odd planets, but we still teach our kids that there are 8 or 9. Its easier to oversimplify, but its hard to rationalize. We do want to know these things, especially if its our profession.

So, even if I don’t want to cook an egg for 100 hours, its essential that I know that its all about temperature and not time, that as long as I keep the temperature below 64 degrees, my egg will be soft no matter how long I cook it. I know that there are several proteins that coagulate at different temperatures, and as they do when I raise the temperature, the egg gets firmer. Out the window go all rules about cooking eggs, I understand what’s going on. I can do what I want with it.

What’s meat? In superficial terms, it is water in a network of fibers. So, now we can make new objects that are very meat-like with any liquid and suspended protein fibres. Things we know as liquids can be transformed into solids, and vice versa. This opens many doors for a crazy cook if you want to go down that road.

Without going out to invent new things, what science brings most to the kitchen is a basic understanding of the movements we’ve been doing for years, and the equipment we use. I appreciate knowing that my stovetop element loses 80% heat, which makes it very inefficient as a heat source, but funny enough, hundreds of years later, we’re still using the same kind of set-up. There is obviously room for much progress in terms of our heating implements. Not many other industries lag so far behind in modern times. I’m all of a sudden open to new heating devices. But I don’t as badly need a bicycle pump for my meringue, not that I’m against it either.

You see, all this information is intoxicating. The more I got into into it when I was doing that, the further I delved, the more cocky I got, and the less convinced I became that it was helping my cooking. It was making me too cerebral, separating me from my senses and from tradition.

When I was forced to closely examine my new, very technical concoction that only .1% of the dining public would appreciate on a purely sensory level, it was all clear to me. “Ya, that sure is clever, Nancy, but is it yummy? Is it better than the classic?” Anne would always ask me. I couldn’t help but accept that, no, perhaps, it wasn’t. And without explaining how it was revolutionary technique-wise, it had no merit. I had stretched my brain, it was a great exercise for me, but ultimately, the customer didn’t need this.

I value learning and progress, but I have learnt that novelty for the sake of novelty is cheap. Ferran Adria is truly a genius, but not the people who copy him to be trendy. I admire him, but in my heart and soul, I just don’t want to do that kind of cooking anyway. The scientist in me has been stomped out by the artist and the hedonist, but nonetheless, it has left me changed.

What I learnt has served me. It has reinforced my skills, my instincts, my eye. It has taught me that although there is a reason behind most rules that can be emperically explained, like in the outside world, there is very little black and white once you introduce humans. So theory does not always translate into reality in the kitchen, unlike in a lab. No matter, we need to stay curious, to be able to question, to think outside the box inorder to keep evolving. And we also need to always respect history, because very little is REALLY new, you know.

Three years later.....

2006-09-20

I just got back from a conference on Molecular Gastronomy by Hervé This at the Science center. He is a true character, a brilliant spokesperson, clearly a scientist who loves food. Tonight, he spent more time defining molecular gastronomy than explaining it, and spoke more about love than science. I think people were generally disappointed.

Many came expecting formulas, the reader’s digest version of food and science, the molecular secret to a perfect sauce, something material to grasp on to. But he waxed philosophical, he was in big picture mode. It was more about the who, why, where, than the what and how. And I understand. He has been excitedly doing the science for years, detail, detail, detail. Now, he has taken a step back, is refocusing; he is more concerned with context, using all this science in a way that stays true to the soul of cooking.

At first, he just wanted cooks, and people in general, to get excited about the science behind what they were doing. Now that people are, and that they are equipped with the tools he brought to light, he wants to restrain, guide people. To make them understand the big picture, to think about how they are using it. Technology always seems to precede art and ethics, and then we play catch up.

When all this molecular gastronomy was all new to me, and I was young and in experimental mode, I didn’t care about the big picture too much. I wanted to learn it all, push the limits, act out all these cool new things. Once you’ve done that journey, you look back and want to qualify it, but move on. You take the best, the most useful of what you have learnt, and it will inform your experiences ever after, but you move to a new plane. That might lead you back to the basics, the essence, or even to the abstract, but always searching for truth, facts yes, but that connect to the soul, that make sense in your world.

I think that’s why Hervé kept insisting that science wasn’t cooking, that it was a tool, and that cooking is the technician’s realm, one step from the technologist, two steps from the scientist. The scientist’s goal is truth. The application is a different thing altogether. And then the sociological variables come into play, which is the cook’s business, not the scientist’s. An actual meal is a few more degrees of separation away, when you bring in the people cooking, the people eating, the ambiance, whether they are eating the same thing, or all different courses or not. In the real world of food and people, a whole bunch of physical and sociological variables come into play to complicate any scientific certainties that have been deduced.

The science of food and cooking has been Hervé This’ life for decades now, he is way ahead of us; he no longer wants to talk about the sucrose profile of carrot soup or egg white emulsions or creamless mousses; he wants to talk about stopping to smell the flowers, and the feeling that goes into a preparation. I think he was playing down all this molecular gastronomy thing because he sees that he has created a monster. I believe he does love food and people, and that he doesn’t want to denature cooking too much. He wants us to ask questions and use science, but to stay connected to the pure delight of making something delicious. It’s very “Like Water for Chocolate” in a way. A science dude turned spiritual. But any true scientist is indeed spiritual in a sense, because he is in tune with nature; he can’t help but acknowledge the effect of things that aren’t easily quantified, like anything “magical” or “god-like”, depending on who you are. In the world of cooking these things are “tour de main”, “ambiance”, or the love and integrity, the personal touch, that goes into a dish. Any honest observer knows that this is a big part of cooking, and of life.

I thank him for tonight’s conference because to me, it was real; it reinforced what I feel and think about molecular gastronomy as far as I know it. And coming from the king, it was refreshing, because like they say in French, he just wasn’t selling his salad. It was a thinking, very human, scientist’s take on the field, where it’s at, and where it should go.