Most things that I ever want to blog about are like a dollop of cold butter in a hot pan. In a while, it loses shape and form. If I don’t pay attention to it – it burns. Once in a while I pay attention and watch the butter, as it shows me the promise of a wonderful meal. I reduce the heat; simmer the flame. I add other potential ingredients to it – to bring out the full flavour.
Get the right mix in.
I decide who will play nice in the pan, and even though they come from different places – in the end – become one wonderful dish. I say no to some of them, give a chance to a few and willingly agree with the rest – of their claim to the pan. Like a tentative immigrant phrase or just that one darling adjective, but not that disruptive exclamation. Often, I will taste it – and make corrections – a bit of salt here, a bit of coconut milk perhaps – to perhaps dilute the sharp, possibly stinging taste.
Ingredients may have a personality, but a cook gives them character.
But most of the time, I let the butter burn. I forget about what’s in the pan and I move out of the kitchen. Obviously, there is no eating the burnt butter, so it goes straight in the sink. And like the mass of pungent carbon on that pan, the idea is lost forever – and with it – the promise of a beautiful expression.
Ideas, like food, need to be treated with respect, love, patience and care.