Mission: Cook! (7 page)

T
HE ATTRIBUTES YOU DEVELOP AS A GOOD COOK WILL SERVE YOU IN THE
rest of your life. Every meal is a new beginning, and requires a different level of planning, organization, judgment, and skill. The French have a term that many cooks are familiar with,
mise en place,
which is a fancy way of saying: make sure you have a place for everything and that everything is in its place before you begin.

Cooking demands discipline, focus, attention to detail, and determination. Though I believe that they might occur to me if I were in their immediate presence, the names of the brave men who assisted in the cooking and distribution of the meal, and of the Marine Guard who stood sentinel on the beach that day twenty years ago at the Port of Aden, largely escape my recollection. Yet I remember most every element, texture, measurement, and technical preparation of the food, point for point. I think this might be true of many of the men and women in my profession, primarily because we are an obsessively detailoriented lot, and as a matter of tradecraft and daily practice, narrowly and almost pathologically focused on the task at hand. Sherlock Holmes, another Englishman with a highly specialized profession, once made the point to Dr. Watson that he tried to forget most of the information he ran across in daily life that didn't pertain directly to his work, and I heartily agree. Aside from matters that attend directly to my family (I'm still pretty good at birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays), I try not to concentrate on matters that don't relate to my trade, such as politics, sport, entertainment, and stamp collecting. I'd be a lousy
Jeopardy!
contestant, but I am a
good
cook.

It is an awesome responsibility to be the cook. Ask anyone who has cooked for their children. When someone allows you to cook for them, they entrust you with their time, their fellowship, their pleasure, their good health, literally with their experience on the planet whilst they are eating what you have prepared. When they are eating your food, they are in your hands. That is why it is so difficult for me to imagine not finishing the task in both Yemen and Hollywood, because in both cases, those people were counting on me for their next meal. Some of them had just donated enormous sums of money to charity and wanted to feel as good as possible about themselves. Some had just reached the pinnacle of their career and were in the midst of an evening that they would remember for the rest of their lives; what a shame it would have been to have served them food that was forgettable. Some of them were just trying to survive until the next ship came to take them away to home and safety. They needed a hot meal to give them hope, to give them a connection to a better place and time. When you are the cook, people are counting on you to do your best. For just about everyone, the most important meal is the one sitting in front of them.

In
order to easily peel the cipollini onions (as listed in the ingredients for the sea bass), blanch them for 2 minutes in boiling water. Slip off the skins and remove the roots, then set aside.

For the leek and onion sauce, heat a medium sauté pan over medium heat, and in it combine the olive oil, white onions, leeks, shallots, and red onion, and sauté until translucent. (During this time you should preheat the oven at 375 degrees for the cipollini onions.) Deglaze the pan with the wine and reduce until the liquid is almost all gone. Add the stock, bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and maintain at a simmer until reduced by three-quarters. (Whilst the stock is reducing, start steaming the leeks and boiling the potatoes as described below, and place the cipollini onions with a little oil poured over them to begin roasting at 375 degrees for about 20 minutes.)

When the reduction is reduced by three-quarters (to about
³
/
₄
cup), strain through a fine-mesh sieve and set aside.

To finish this sauce, slowly whisk in the demi-glace
using only enough as you need
to create a silky sauce that coats the back of a spoon. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

To make the stuffed leeks, boil the potatoes until soft enough to mash, and steam the leeks until tender. Then mash the potatoes, whipping in the chopped chives, butter, salt, and freshly ground pepper to taste with a beater. (Whip the potatoes until they are smooth enough to flow through the pastry bag.)

Transfer the potato mixture to a pastry bag fitted with a 1-inch round tip. To remove the center part of the leeks, you will slip out the inner layers by pushing from the bottom end of each leek. (The steamed leeks will be delicate after they are steamed. In order to avoid tearing them, use the pointed end of a chopstick to gently slide out the inner layers, pushing from the bottom end upward. Leave only one or two layers to create a hollowed-out leek.) Pipe the potato mixture into each leek and set aside, keeping warm. (Check on your cipollini onions in the oven. When they are tender, remove them and set aside.)

To cook the fish, in a medium sauté pan, heat the oil over medium heat. Season the sea bass, place skin side down in the pan, and sear on both sides (2 minutes each side), then cook to desired doneness. (The fish is done when the flesh springs back upon being touched.) Remove from the heat and set aside, keeping warm.

PRESENTATION

Just before serving, rewarm the leek-and-onion reduction and add the demi-glace as described above. To serve, place a piece of sea bass on a plate, place a stuffed leek next to it, and top with a cipollini onion. Spoon some sauce around the dish and garnish with garlic chives, sliced raw leeks, and basil.

F
OOD HAS POWER. BASIC CHEMISTRY TELLS US THAT FOOD COMBINES
with other elements in our bodies and converts to usable energy. We use that energy to work, to think, to heal. It drives our memories and emotions, and we are also genetically programmed to use quite a bit of that energy in the search for more food. Food activates the mind and stirs the imagination, and the resulting sensations are penetrating and physiological.

Close your eyes and try to conjure up a memory of the last best meal you've had. I find myself thinking, at this moment, of a beautiful pork tenderloin that I rolled lightly in sea salt, fresh rosemary, and smoked paprika, pan-seared to a golden brown and finished in the oven, then sliced down and paired with a lovely lump crabmeat risotto to create a kind of “poor man's surf-and-turf.” Just reading about this, and thinking about the succulent, juicy, slightly spicy pork playing off of the sweetness and al dente texture of the crab risotto, I can feel an immediate, physical response.

When I am hungry, I don't just jump up and grab something and shove it in my mouth. I take the time to sit quietly and think about all of the foods that I could eat, imagine how each might feel on my tongue, savor the images, decide on something delicious, then seek it out. I revel in the creative process, fully experience the peeling, slicing, baking, braising, frying, the
cooking
of it all. I sample the flavors, devour the aromas, listen to the music, the crunch, the snap, the crackle, the sizzle of it all. Then, and only then, do I feel ready to eat it. Food, at its best, is irresistible.

Cooking takes commitment, and I believe that
flavor
is at the heart of the matter. Cooking well means commitment to flavor. Dedicate yourself to finding and using the freshest ingredients, and to learning what foods are
supposed
to taste like. Compare a vine-ripened tomato's smell and texture and taste to one that's been genetically manipulated for size and an ability to be transported long distances without squishing. You will instantly know what I mean. Cook with whole, unprocessed foods whenever possible. Whether through trial and error, through absorbing techniques and recipes from more experienced cooks, or by studying books like this one, find out what works. Try growing your own herbs, even if only in a small window garden with a few select items. Experiment with new flavor combinations. Be bold. Just for instance, try drizzling a fine, aged balsamic vinegar over a cool, freshly picked and sliced peach with a little ground black pepper. It might change the way you think about fruit forever. Follow these practices over even a short period of time, and the difference to your dishes, your senses, and your health will be more dramatic than you can imagine.

And, please,
taste.
Taste everything, every step along the way as you cook. Try new things when you eat out and remember what they tasted like when you try to re-create them on your own. Cooking is a talent that can be developed and nurtured through practice and observation. The partaking of good food, especially when you are eating alone, can be meditative. Use your time alone with food to think about it, and understand it. Once you know what is good, when you can satisfy yourself, chances are others will be satisfied, too. That fine old fellow Will Shakespeare wrote, “ 'Tis an ill cook who cannot lick his own fingers.”