“Wax on, wax off.” Most people over the age of fifty are familiar with this instruction from Mr. Miyagi, the karate master in the seminal movie – the Karate Kid. This discipline helped to prepare the student for the flow of motion in karate and the patience needed to enjoy expected outcomes. Since then, the phrase has been used by nearly everyone of that era to represent something to do with patience required and outcomes enjoyed.

The other day I watched a short video clip of a restaurant cook, probably not more than 18 or 19 years old, demonstrating what he called “fusion cooking”, blending his interpretation of Mexican and Asian cooking technique and flavors into what he deemed an “original dish.” First, I give him credit for trying but wonder how this fusion effort is possible without first fully understanding each of those individual cooking styles and flavor profiles. Now, I’m not trying to state that only people of Mexican heritage dare cook Mexican food or those born and raised outside of Tokyo should never attempt to slice sashimi or prepare shabu-sahbu. What I am pointing to is the importance of context, tradition, and deeply understanding flavor and experience outcomes.

Take, for instance, the Japanese process of chanoyu (the tea ceremony) where a tea master creates an environment and then meticulously prepares matcha green tea for a guest familiar with his or her specific role in the tea drinking process from how the tea room is entered, to expression of appreciation of the room, raising the cup to the master, sipping and graciously commenting on the quality of the beverage and the vessel in which it is served. This could be referred to as the Tai Chi of tea drinking. Now, you can buy a cup of matcha at your local coffee shop, but I guarantee once you have experienced the tradition and exactness of technique that chanoyu provides, your Starbuck’s version will be considered inferior blasphemy. It’s all about context. The ingredients are the same, but the experience is far different. Like the 19-year-old cook talking about creating a fusion of Mexican and Asian without the background to really understand either, this is a far cry from what was intended.

The same could be said of a classic Mexican dish that has been Americanized for speed and convenience. Guacamole is a dish so simple that anyone could prepare it. But can anyone create a unique guacamole experience without first understanding the ingredient and the tradition of making guacamole? Just ripe avocado, lime, salt, and chile is all that is needed, but the process makes all the difference. Like matcha preparation in Japan, authentic Mexican guacamole is prepared in a molcajetes (basically a stone mortar and pestle) with perfectly fresh avocados, by a person called a La abuela (like a Mexican grandmother), with just the right proportions of the four major ingredients and served immediately. Now some Mexican restaurants do a wonderful job of preparation using these traditions tableside, while others are content to mix batches of guacamole behind kitchen doors, scoop upon order, and serve without the experience in mind. Trust me, same ingredients, different flavor, different guacamole memories. The same traditions exist with the preparation of authentic tortilla, shaped by hand and served right from the grill or plancha. The restaurant that takes the time to understand and re-create the context with passion, will build experiences that live in a guest’s mind – FOREVER.

In France, the baguette is sacred. UNESCO awarded the French baguette, a product of Intangible Cultural Heritage making note of its importance to French culture. The process of making this crunchy signature bread with a soft, warm nutty interior is often copied but rarely duplicated. The French consume baguette with most meals and from my experience, even the smallest Village in rural France has at least one boulangerie making the long, pointed loaves for villagers waiting at the crack of dawn to buy a few loaves. Same ingredients executed in a large-scale commercial bakery in cities throughout America result in a sub-standard facsimile that a traditional baker would reject. Tradition and culinary context create the important difference while the knowledge of both with mastery of technique is the only way to create authenticity and that takes time and dedication.

Ask any American Italian about Bolognese (or gravy as some refer to it) and they will drift into a dream-like description of their grandmother spending days blanching and peeling San Marzano tomatoes, crushing them by hand, simmering for the better part of a day with garlic, onions, beef, pork, veal, and pancetta; seasoned with fresh oregano and basil and finished just so with a touch of cream. Many restaurants may offer a version of Bolognese or buy a well-intended version from their vendors, but the result will always be inferior to an Italian grandmother’s methods, traditions, and the context of Sunday dinner with the family patriarch at the head of the table.

Back to our restaurant cook experimenting with adding this and that to create a signature – the effort is noble, the results will always lack the secret ingredients of knowledge, experience, context, and tradition. We can never underestimate how important they are. To call a dish by its proper name without considering this may just be inappropriate.

Food for Thought.

PLAN BETTER – TRAIN HARDER

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