The Value of Cooking
Being able to cook, or at least
understanding the processes of cooking, not only informs you about quality and
taste, but it also helps you appreciate the kind of labour involved in bringing
a dish to the table.
Sometimes, we allow convenience to
trump the need to slave over a cooker or an oven, or, in these times, a
crockpot or slow cooker, a steamer, and an air fryer. Well, a rice cooker has
now joined the appliances in my cramped kitchen. Utility meets facility, and
the rest is the memory of the palatable.
Convenience Versus Craft
Supermarkets tend to offer convenience
at the expense of kitchen activity; the onions come ready-chopped in a pack
when I could use a mandolin and store them in a Ziplock bag in the freezer.
When I could not get Agege bread in Cape Town, I began to bake my own; now that
it is sold here, I simply buy it in the shops.
One time, whilst mixing the dough, one
of the mixing hooks broke. It should have been an easy replacement, but by then
the novelty of baking had worn off.
I can make most of what I like; it is
the lack of time, patience, or will that militates against the creative
process, so you reach instead for the processed food shortcuts in supermarket
packs or obtain takeaways from restaurants.
Experiments with Yoghurt
For a while, I stopped buying yoghurt
with fruit servings. Instead, I would get Greek yoghurt and add it to a fruit
salad drizzled with honey, but I wanted something different. I made a compote
of blueberries and raspberries, cooking the fruits with a little water and
lemon juice, though I did not have any vanilla essence.
I liked the first result with Greek
yoghurt and honey, but I left the compote too long in the fridge and it was
developing a culture, so I had to throw it away. I soon made another portion,
which I never used. I warmed it up in the microwave and it bubbled out of the
container, filling the microwave plate with red juice. That was annoying to
clean up.
From Compote to Coulis
When I went out shopping yesterday, I
bought a pack of wonky raspberries and one of blueberries. Something about the
chunky feel of the compote did not appeal to me, so this time, after cooking
the fruits and mashing them in the pot, I decided to try something else. What
about blending the compote, I thought?
Well, that changes a compote into a
coulis. I did not pass the blended compote through a sieve, but I think the
NutriBullet blender did a good enough job, and this time I added some
Madagascan vanilla essence. I might also add a splash of brandy to give it
longevity, which is what you would expect in a compote rather than a coulis.
The knowledge of cookery does not just
give you the ability to follow a recipe, even though much of one's expertise
comes from learning, experience, practice, and memory. The recipe, like rules,
can be broken to suit your own requirements and taste, and you would be neither
persecuted nor prosecuted for it. That, my friends, is the joy of knowing how
to cook.
