Betty Crocker was a scientist...

Thursday, August 16

I just realized I hadn't written for a while and it's not because I have been sitting at home eating bon bons, which I would love of course, who wouldn't? Of course, vegan bon bons...

Anyway, I have been doing a lot of planning, searching of ingredients and tools, and testing of recipes for future cooking classes and dinners. The testing of recipes for classes in particular requires a lot of attention to detail and care. I sometimes feel like a scientist in my laboratory as I have my various things to soak, bake, boil, and with pen by my side I have to write down what I'm doing at every step and what I'm changing at every step, and this is the tough part to keep on track of all the small changes and revisions I make as I go along ... 1 teaspoon, no 2 teaspoons of this.... 10 minutes of baking at 350, no 15 minutes at 400.

It's a miracle if I can read my note pad, with all it's scribbles and numbers, and the paper covered with oil and other stains, when I take it to the computer to try to put it all together in a clear, concise, easy to read and doable recipe for 4 people. And then there are always questions as I'm writing up the recipe as I'm trying to think like the person who is trying the recipe and wonder if I should provide all the details and tips, or will this be too much text and frighten someone from making the dish or even reading it all? Or, do I follow the path of most recipes and just say one line or a few vague lines, and you are either supposed to have a culinary degree or be intuitive to know that you were supposed to do things that were not mentioned but expected and implied. Now, we know how well trying to read someone's mind translates into relationships and friendships... so, why is it any different in recipes? A recipe for disaster?

Then there is what I am calling "the mother" factor. OK, my mother's been dead for over 17 years so what is she doing in the kitchen you may ask? Well, in Japanese cooking, most of all the techniques and skills I picked up was from cooking Japanese food with my mother since I was little. Now, I can translate a lot of my mother's recipes by memory as she never wrote down anything. However, trying to transcribe these recipes into a clear, logical format is another matter. She was an excellent cook and creative, but logical and clear was not her forte.

Also, cooking solo is one matter but trying to explain in a class what you are doing and the solid reasons behind it is another matter. I don't think "because my mother used to do it that way" will fly. So, for every step, I need to verify why I'm doing it and the reason behind it. My mom's long gone so I can't ask her but I'm sure if I asked her she would say something like "my grandmother used to do it that way", and if I asked her grandmother I would get a similiar reply. By the way, my mother was born in Vancouer and her mother died when she was little so the family was dispersed to different people and she was sent to Japan to live with a relative - I believe her grandmother. But, you can see how a family recipe passed on through the ages could be a challenge to teach and explain...

I was testing and writing up a Japanese sunomono salad (cucumber and seaweed) recipe that I've made hundreds of times in my life. My mother used to put the thinly sliced cucumbers into a bowl of cold water and put a lot of salt into it. She would leave it for a bit and then squeeze out tightly the cucumbers from the water. I've always made it this way. But, every recipe I have looked up has said to just add salt to the cucumber slices for a few minutes, to draw out excess water, and then they are ready. So, I can't justify putting the cucumbers in water, an extra step, unless there is a good reason for this. Anyone reading this know the answer? So, sorry mom, I will have to go the way that I can explain for the class, at least for now.

Then, if time permits, I try to take the recipe back into the lab at least another time to ensure I have everything right. And, with one change, something else could be altered or everything could be altered, so I have to make changes all around, and this crazy cycle begins again. I now know why many people proudly state that the recipe was "tested three times", although I don't know why the magical number is 3. What if someone tested it 10 times, can they only say it was 3? Cooking is so strange sometimes. Most chefs just create in the moment and adjust and fiddle with their dishes as they move along with a dish until the texture, taste and appearance is just right. That's probably why many of them couldn't imagine putting their recipes on to paper, unless you get famous and there are many people around you to do all the work, observing your every movement, recording details as you cook, like being an animal held in captivity for a research experiment.

The other challenge is taking the recipe from a "laboratory" setting and moving it into a classroom setting where everyone is different, has varying culinary experience and skills, and good and bad days, and where the equipment available, or not available, is different. It is especially challenging with natural, whole foods and plant-based menus as everything is from scratch and fresh, many ingredients are new and different to people, and certain ingredients and techniques can make dramatic differences to the results of the dish.

So, number 1, the recipes almost have to be failproof, which I don't know how that is possible when you are dealing with humans. And, number 2, I have realized that I always have to have a back up ready of the main dishes just in case, especially with those more delicate dishes, like those cooking shows. In the end, most people want to have good food to eat and will be grumpy and cranky after a long day at the office and then at a cooking class if their recipes don't turn out, even if it was partially their fault or the fault of a team mate or the fault of the equipment or tools they were using. And, guess who they blame if the food is not great?

Here's the exercise if you want to teach, which is almost like an mission impossible and I admire the great chefs that can do it so well and easily....

You have to create a recipe for people to follow, not a normal recipe but one at a gourmet level that people couldn't just go to the web or cookbook for usually, but it has to be easy enough and quick to do within a limited timeframe.

You explain how to do some of the steps and how to work with some of the ingredients, but you can't speak to long as you can see some people's eyes closing from a long day at work and it just sounds like me saying "blah, blah, blah" after awhile. So, I find it best for everyone to go in the kitchen as soon as possible and just start cooking and doing something, with me close by, vs. trying to explain the most elaborate of techniques, as most people learn from doing things themselves and are eager to get started.

Then you monitor and watch the 16 or so people as they move in the kitchen doing their individual and team activities, with your name being called every few seconds for help. You do what you can to support, assist, demo, taste, and explain, but there's never enough time to reach all the people you want. The most important elements I have found are warmth, compassion and humour... we need so much more in our lives and the kitchen is a good place to start as any.

Then, when everything is ready, people sit down and you have to plate everything quickly and make it shine miraculously if it's not. Then, everyone eats but looks to you if it tastes good or doesn't taste good, even though they made it, which brings me to one of of the golden rules about recipes that I learned in culinary school and it's sometimes difficult to create and follow them...

The recipe is only a guide map and the individual, whether at home or in a restaurant kitchen, has to really develop their own skills and culinary senses over time and confidence. And you can only do this by being observant and mindful while you cook, checking things all the time, and asking questions of yourself and others... does this have enough salt?... what if I added a touch more?... does this have enough acid?...what could I do to bring the acidity up?... lemon, vingar, wine?... should this be more sweet, less sweet? It's really about taking that guide map and using your own senses to bring you "home". And, in the beginning you have little in senses, or you think you do, but that's mostly because we don't trust ourselves to know better or best.

But if you love food, and most people do, and I'm judging that you've eaten hundreds and hundreds of meals in restaurants by now, then you do have some sort of developed culinary senses, even if you don't cook. You know what tastes good and what you like when you eat at a restaurant. You know when food is bad or mediocre or lacking and we usually use quite simple words to explain what we're experiencing... not fresh, overcooked, under done, too salty, too cold, too sweet, too bland. If we're not cooking in a restaurant setting and mostly for ourselves, and our family and friends, shouldn't we be pleasing ourselves first and what our palate likes? If you're cooking for a group of people you want to impress, don't you naturally ask people along the way to taste things to see what they think, if they're around?

So, that's the hard part with recipe writing. It's supposed to be this guide map but people are really expecting them to be like google maps or a tracking device, and take them exactly from point A to point B without having to use any judgement or observations or make any mistakes along the way. And, if the recipe doesn't work or we don't like the result, we usually just toss them aside and say "bad recipe" or "terrible cookbook" without taking any responsibility. Yes, there are numerous bad recipes out there of course, but is it always the fault of the lonely recipe?

You can see now why numerous hours go into getting the recipes just right and researching the background for every ingredient and technique I'm using. And, then, taking these recipes into the classroom and reality is another matter. I've heard that many of the recipes on-line and in cookbooks are not tested, or tested enough, and that's why they are impossible to replicate or people are usually disappointed when they try to make them at home. I've even heard from chefs that some of the recipes of well-known chefs neglect to mention certain techniques or ingredients so that you can't make duplicate their famous dishes at home. I guess that's why some cookbooks are known for working and others just don't seem to, or not without a lot of adapting.

That's why I think Betty Crocker was a scientist as she developed a recipe that people or the factory could replicate over and over again. I say "Betty Crocker" but I don't even know if there is such a person. It's funny how we use these names without much thought. And, why did someone come up with that name in particular and how did she become a household name? And who does Betty hang out with? Is her best friend Sara Lee? Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben relatives? The Tetley Tea elves her fantasy friends?

"THE END", but for a little more on Betty Crocker see the following. I was curious and went to seek out the truth...

The Washburn Crosby Company of Minneapolis, one of the six big milling companies that merged into General Mills in 1928, received thousands of requests each year in the late 1910s and early 1920s for answers to baking questions. In 1921, managers decided that it would be more intimate to sign the responses personally; they combined the last name of a retired company executive, William Crocker, with the first name “Betty,” which was thought of as “warm and friendly.” The signature came from a secretary, who won a contest among female employees. (The same signature still appears on Betty Crocker products.)

In 1924, Betty Crocker acquired a voice with the radio debut of the nation’s first cooking show, which featured thirteen different actresses working from radio stations across the country. Later it became a national broadcast, The Betty Crocker School of the Air, which ran for twenty-four years.

Finally, in 1936 Betty Crocker got a face. Artist Neysa McMein brought together all the women in the company’s Home Service Department and “blended their features into an official likeness.” The widely circulated portrait reinforced the popular belief that Betty Crocker was a real woman. One public opinion poll rated her as the second most famous woman in America after Eleanor Roosevelt.

Over the next seventy-five years, her face has changed seven times: she became younger in 1955; she became a “professional” woman in 1980; and in 1996 she became multicultural, acquiring a slightly darker and more “ethnic” look.

As an aside, Sarah Lee is a real person.