TheCooksHouse's blog

As all of you know, cooking if my one passion; my one obsession. But recently I have began to question the place of cooking in my life. What I mean is where does it fit? What's the purpose of cooking in my life. In a way this blog has been the vehicle with which I explore cooking's place in my life, so it shouldn't come as any surprise to me when I begin questioning why I cook. But this recent episode of questioning reaches down deeper inside. I don't know if I am looking for direction or connection. My gut feeling is I'm trying to see where I am connected in my endeavor.

Paul Tillich, an existential theologian, and the one theologian that speaks most to me, spoke often of man's "Ultimate Concern" when referring to god. Faith, according to Tillich is the state of being ultimately concerned. Now, because Tillich's idea of ultimate concern is not the easiest concept to understand, in fact some wonder if even Tillich understood it completely, I'm not going to get into it. If you are interested here is a link to a very good discussion. But I bring up "ultimate concern" because Tillich argued that ones ultimate concern cannot be something finite, hence, my cooking no matter how passionate I am with it cannot stand in the place of my ultimate concern. If cooking cannot bring me fulfillment then what does it do? This is the question now before me.

I recently read an essay by Albert Camus on Herman Melville. In short, Camus found Melville's work to rank up there with some of the greatest books ever written. He wrote about Melville's ability to not only write superior books but to create in those books myths that will last generations. Camus wrote, "if it is true that talent recreates life, while genius has the additional gift of crowning it with myths, Melville is first and foremost a creator of myths." He wrote that Melville's genius made it possible for him to write works that take us on a spiritual journey that help us discover and understand our place in this world. Camus says, "...in judging Melville's genius, if nothing else, it must be recognized that his works trace a spiritual experience of unequaled intensity..." And again Camus wrote about his works, "These anguished books in which man is overwhelmed, but which life is exalted on each page, are inexhaustible sources of strength and pity. We find in them revolt and acceptance, unconquerable and endless love, the passion for beauty, language of the highest order..."

I have burnt into my memory two of the worst days in cooking career. The first was just not long after I took my first chefs position. The night in question was New Years Eve, 1993. My boss told me we would take no more than 150 reservations and to plan a menu accordingly. I went to work. This was my first time being at the sharp end of the stick and I wanted to impress. I had everything ordered. We did some of the prep the day before. I came in early on News Years Eve to make sure everything ran smooth. Around 11:00am or so in walks my boss. He tells me we are up to 200 and to expect 250. Excuse me, 200 but plan on 250? I thought 150 was the mark we were aiming for? I still get that same sick feeling in my stomach when I think of it that I had when he told me. Plan for 100 covers more than I was told, then I am prepped for, and more than I ordered for. We were still prepping when the doors opened up.

Never, and I mean never, have I been hit so hard and so fast with tickets than I was that evening. "We're open" quickly was followed by a barrage of orders that came at me so fast I was lost the first 10 minutes and didn't find my way back until the last ticket came in. The entire night was a total disaster. People left angry. I didn't have enough food. The boss was mad at me. The waiters were mad at me. The only ones on my side were my cooks. About mid way through this hell I felt like sitting down and crying. Walking out never looked so good.

Today while taking a break from my usual hectic schedule I was drinking a pot of tea and reading through one of my favorite books called "The Book of Tea", by Kakuzo Okakura. I have found a copy online for you to read. I have copied the first two paragraphs of the book below for your enjoyment because they speak so much to me and always remind me why I love tea so much. Hope you get a chance to read the whole book, but if not, I hope you at least enjoy the first two paragraphs:

Tea began as a medicine and grew into a beverage. In China, in the eighth century, it entered the realm of poetry as one of the polite amusements. The fifteenth century saw Japan ennoble it into a religion of aestheticism--Teaism. Teaism is a cult founded on the adoration of the beautiful among the sordid facts of everyday existence. It inculcates purity and harmony, the mystery of mutual charity, the romanticism of the social order. It is essentially a worship of the Imperfect, as it is a tender attempt to accomplish something possible in this impossible thing we know as life.

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