Culinary Philosophy: Party of One!
I just had a light bulb moment. I have them once every so often, like that comet that comes around every few years. No, this is not your run-of-the-mill DING fries are done moment. This is more like a “four minutes to Wapner” revelation—like hitting the golf ball with that perfect PING! Sound.
One of the top five questions people ask me is, “Where the hell do you come up with that stuff?” Let me expand a bit so you can get a sense of my thought process. I have always been a creature of WHY? Ask my mother, and she’ll tell you! Her go-to response was, “Why? Because it’s a crooked letter!” I’d be like, WTF does that have to do with my question? It was like when I was younger and asked, “What’s for dinner?” and she’d say, “18:30!” Yup, honest to God.
Eventually, I caught on and started asking, “What time is dinner?” Her reply? “Chicken Parm!” I digress… I have always wondered who came up to eat the things we eat today. For instance, who came up with foie gras? Go look it up; it’s a really Kool story. When I was in culinary school, I constantly asked why. I have no idea why {see what I did there}, but I’m that guy. So, getting back on track {ADHD much?}, I would always ask cooks why they did things a certain way, like why they washed rice a certain number of times or why dry and wet ingredients are mixed separately before combining.
One vivid memory I have is from working at a large Asian-themed restaurant. I was being introduced to a new cooking style, and the trainer, Lou, had probably fifty years on me. I remember watching his technique during one chaotic Friday night shift. The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity—tickets printing, no stop off the wheel, and cooks moving like there was no tomorrow. But Lou moved like Neo dodging bullets in slow motion. His movements were graceful, purposeful, and mesmerizing. He wasn’t chaotic; he deeply respected the food he was cooking. It might not have been his style, but it was American Chinese cuisine, and that was who he was.
We had a family meal each day in most kitchens I’ve worked in or run. To this day, it’s one of my favorite meals. Every day, someone took a shot at introducing the rest of us to their cuisine, representing where they were from, their upbringing, and their style. You get to learn who a cook is through their family meal. The difference between their restaurant food and family meal is LOVE. They cook from their heart, sharing their most craveable dishes and personal stories.
I would sit, eat, ask questions, and learn about their cuisine. I realized that the sparkle in their eyes when they talked about their dishes reflected their memories, respect, and history. I will never consider myself a master of anything. A master is someone who believes they know everything, and that’s not me. I can never fully replicate another culture’s cuisine; I’m not from there and wasn’t raised there. I can only show respect for it.
I have a buddy, Chef Jason F. Lynn—follow him, he’s a great guy. We have deep conversations, and he always says, “Always the student, forever learning our craft!” I look back at the cook I was and the experiences that shaped me, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I’m from Florida, raised in HollyHood, and have worked in Miami up to Tampa, where I am now. I’ve played with so many different cultures in the kitchen, adding flavors to my arsenal that I didn’t know existed.
Recently, on our podcast, The Walk-in Talk, I did a flan challenge. Carl had his Cuban mother-in-law make her flan, and I made mine. My buddy Chef Robert Gonzalez, who was a contestant on the Food Network’s Spring Baking Championship, gave me his recipe. I don’t do anything the normal way. During the podcast, Carl said, “The flan was great, but it’s not Cuban flan.” He made a comment about tradition, and I responded, “I will never do traditional because I wasn’t raised in that culture. It would be disrespectful for me to label their food as such. Instead, I show respect by blending their flavors with my style. That’s the only way I know to honor their cuisine.” I’m just a cook who asks questions and experiments, all while trying to pay my respects to the diverse culinary traditions I encounter.
The dish I prepared for this trigger was to pay respects to my family, who is from Jamaica. People think the national dish is Jerk Chicken, and you couldn’t be more wrong. My mother-in-law is one of fourteen kids, Chinese Jamaican. There is a whole lot of flavor in that family. I was introduced to this dish when my wife and I started dating. Now, I want to state that I was not aware of this dish, and all of you cooks from Jamaica that never told me about it, you {I cannot say what me want to say}! I remember when I was asked if I wanted Ackee and Saltfish. I was like, “What’s Ackee? What is this thing called BAMMY?” Here is the thing: when I said that, her mom looked at me and was like “Well, him going to find out!” It wasn’t that—it was the joy, that dare I say, a twinkle of “I get to show someone a dish from my country.”The whole family was so excited. I learned quickly why they were.
The Dish
Ackee and Yum
Jerk marinated grouper | pineapple vinegar infused mango chutney | coconut milk marinated bammy seared | stewed tomatoes | caramelized onions | Ackee | coconut butter crumb | coconut rum lemongrass infused reduction | lemon jerk curd | roasted broccoli puree
