Documentation, a scarcity
Yea it's been a while.
My lack of activity is a mixture of my indolence and lack of documentation of dishes that I've been cooking.
Documentation, with cooking especially, hasn't been a strong suit of mine. I wouldn't even categorize it as a weak point, it's something that I purposely avoid. It could stem from the wanting to embody something along the lines of "living in the moment". Maybe that makes me more woke. I may never know my own intentions...
Jokes aside, I've reached a point where cooking has become a "no biggie" situation. I mean that in the least boastful way possible. It's something in which I unwind and unplug. It's less of an occasion and more of a relaxation method in which I can make others happy while telling a story.
Ever since I got rid of instagram, my need to share and record my musings and my cooking has plummeted. It comes with its positives and negatives. Many of the dear people that I cook for take pictures and whatnot, which I'm fine with. Those guests are the same people I occasionally ask for pictures from. But personally, I'd like the story of the food and the people that I'm cooking for and eating be the focal point. A saying that's always stuck with me is, "Don't tell me what you ate, tell me who you ate with". That sums up why documenting my cooking has been less of a priority. But there is a time and a place for it...I guess.
The idea of instagram came up in a podcast that I was listening to the other day. The podcast was speaking on the subject of interior design in hospitality industry (restaurants and hotels specifically). Now developers have fully accepted the power of social media, whether they themselves like it or not. These designers are now pegged to create spaces that are conducive to "instagramability". There has to be a portion of the lobby or the restaurant that has to be picture-esque. Instead of organically creating a space that people want to share, designers are going out of their way to input a neon sign or a specific spot in the space that's easily photographed and shared. It made me think of how, in the future, I would need to make food and create spaces that would be easily instagramable. If I were to open a hotel or a restaurant, would I have to go against my own preference and force this just to keep up with the social media craze? Now that I think about it, I wouldn't necessarily have an issue with it per se, it just scares me. The age of word of mouth and experience has fallen into the abyss. It's much more difficult to share a story to the public without social media as a vehicle. People can't live in the past for too long, and adaptation is necessary for success. I guess, I've already accepted my fate.
While I can't show you too many images of what I've made over this summer, I can try show you what I've worked on through a couple images and stories.
Here are two stories:
1. Fried Chicken. I'm not going to front, I've never made fried chicken before this. I've been intimidated by the idea of frying things at home (don't you need a fryer to do that?). Whenever I see people frying things, it seems like a whole process. Not really a vibe. BUT, my friend, wanted chicken thighs for her birthday. I immediately decided that baking and searing chicken thigh was simply too mundane. So I decided to mess around with some 400 degree oil splattering around in my apartment. To my surprise, the process of cooking fried chicken was pretty harmless. It starts with marination in buttermilk, coconut milk, and a bevy spices (that I haphazardly threw in). The rest of the process looked like putting chicken and canola oil in a dutch oven (a whole lot of it), waiting till for a golden brown exterior, throwing it in the oven, waiting until the internal temperature hit 160 and bada bing bada boom. Not too shabby if you ask me.
2. Mother's Soup. I took a trip to Uwajimaya (huge, heavenly, Asian supermarket) with one my friends. As I was strolling through the aisles, I was hit again and again with shots of nostalgia. They were memories of me and my mom obsessing over fish balls, cabbages, enoki mushrooms, and pre-marinated chicken thighs. I made a split-second decision to search the aisles for what felt familiar. What I was left with was a mosh posh of vegetables that my mom would throw into a homemade chicken stock soup. Albeit, when my mom cooked this soup, I would only drink the soup, circumvent the veggies and leave the table to do whatever a high school boy would do (probably video games). This time, I was determined to eat the veggies. The next day, I consulted my mom for about an hour on the techniques and timing of cooking such a seemingly simple dish (it's simple but oddly complex). Paired along with cold, soy dressed rice noodles and five obscure asian sauces on the table mixed together, I had dinner with a friend. Mother knows best.