For as long as I can remember, I have had an affinity for understanding how things work. When I was little I disassembled electronics and toys so that I could learn how to build them myself, but better. This affinity led me to a passion for science, particularly physics and mechanics. In these classes, I began to actually learn how a nonstick pan becomes nonstick or why there are different metal qualities for pans or how an induction cooktop works without getting hot. All these things are governed by very predictable and consistent rules; I liked that. In mechanics classes in college I have learned mathematical and physical equations that help to explain the world in an understandable and predictable way; to reduce the chaos of life. I have discovered through trial and error how to methodically and precisely design and build something from a combination of existing models and my own imagination. Now, one might not think that a person like me would logically have a connection to cooking; even I am surprised.
I was a huge newborn baby, tipping the scales at 10 lb. As a child, I loved food. Or should I say, I loved to eat food. I didn't understand the nuances of taste, texture, and presentation. I simply ate to eat. My first hint of entering chefdom came when I was 6 years old and I was staying at my grandma's house while my parents were on vacation. My three older sisters were all bothering me when we were playing outside so, fed up, I came inside to see my grandma who always had a treat for me to cheer me up. Whenever I came in her house I smelled a hint of eggy custard and butter; she was making her classic (and might I mention famous) coconut cream pie. She pulled up a chair for me to sit by her beside the work table on which she was rolling out the dough. I had never before known how much skilled work goes into making a pie. The amount of precision that is involved in making a crust and the art of making the perfect meringue top intrigued me. From then on I would always ask to help my mom or sisters when they made cookies so that I could learn how to construct a pastry. But I was still just a consumer of food and not a creator.
The real seed was planted by my grandma, Nana. I am completely unable to eat any fried chicken from a restaurant, even if Thomas Keller himself fried it for me. To me fried chicken is not just a delicious piece of food, but a collection of memories and stories. Let me explain. Every Sunday night my family would hop in the car to go to my grandma's for dinner. This was my favorite time of the week because the whole family would sit together and chat and eat and be happy. On the drive to her house we would all talk about what she made for us that night (it was always a secret and she would never tell us before). We would argue, "pot roast", "no, liver and onions," "I hope it's meatloaf." But the holy grail of cuisine was her fried chicken. She would spend all day laboring over the skillet, frying fresh cut chicken (because butchers never do it right) from her generation old, top-secret recipe. My mouth still waters just thinking about walking into her house, the first thing I hear is the subtle popping of grease. My mind begins to hope. Then I smell the faint hint of twice baked potatoes (because they always came in pairs). When I see the coconut cream pie I am sure, tonight she made her fried chicken dinner; my favorite. These family dinners, thanks to my grandma, are some of my favorite experiences from childhood. The reason I first began to cook is simple: I wanted to create these feelings I have in other people, via food. Even at age 93, my Nana still spends all day making cinnamon rolls to pass out to her friends that I help her pass out occasionally. The smiles and instant happiness on the recipient's face that I see when I hand over the pan makes me want to be able to share this amazing gift as well. The love and years of crafting experience that go into making her food make the best gift that anyone can ever give. If I could even recreate 1% of the fondness from the events that my grandma created for me, I would be happy. So I set out to learn to cook the only way I know how.... study, research, analyze, refine, repeat.
Being a bit of a perfectionist in combination with my mathematical mind, my first cooking attempts were very systematic and calculated. I began the process by continuously watching cooking TV and reading magazines so that I could learn proper technique and skills. My parents grew wary of hearing, "How bad can that be?" or "Bam!" My next step was to do research. I would scour the Internet to find a recipe that looked interesting to me. Then the experiment began. Precisely measuring and leveling teaspoons and chopping onion after onion, I began to build my cooking experience. I learned that much like physics, the world of cooking, especially baking, was very precise and predictable. It was a science in disguise. I enjoyed understanding the difference between a butter crust and a shortening crust. I especially loved Alton Brown's cooking show "Good Eats" because he, like me, liked the scientific part of cooking. My mom was very pleased with my new interest because after 28 years of cooking for 1 to 4 kids, she needed a break. I began cooking dinners for my parents (as my older sisters were all in college). My mom would politely smile and give her support as she plugged her nose to eat my early creations. My dad? He asked for seconds; taste doesn't matter to him. I could always count on him to give me a morale boost when I had messed up a dish.
When I finally thought I was ready to entertain for friends, I began with something easy: pancakes. After several attempts at getting the perfect batter, and melting a spatula along the way, I learned how it felt to fill the hearts of loved ones via food. At this point, I began having brunches, BBQ, and dinners to bring my friends together. I began to not just eat food, but to enjoy and to appreciate it as not just sustenance. I began searching for new, exotic ingredients and cooking methods. I found an organic market (which is a diamond in the rough in rural Midwest) and began traveling to a weekly farmers' market so that I could chat with the farmers about what is in season, good ways to cook it, and what they suggest eating. I thought it was important to know not just what my food is, but where is came from. I spent hours in book stores looking at cookbooks by juxtaposing styles, chefs, and cuisines. Over time, I began to develop a basic understanding of how food works. Like I use my quantum mechanics text to aid with a problem set, I use Julia Child as my text book to study for making a souffle for my friends. I don't see cooking as haphazard, throw a little of this and a little of 
that, in a pot. No, it is a very well thought out and precise formula based off of years of exploration and trials that are passed down to younger generations via recipes boxes and cookbooks and grandmas. I am not saying that culinary exploration is wrong (in fact quite the opposite), but the understanding of food must first be acquired before one can really cook. To quote Julia Child, "This is my invariable advice to people: Learn how to cook- try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all have fun!" (My Life in France)
that, in a pot. No, it is a very well thought out and precise formula based off of years of exploration and trials that are passed down to younger generations via recipes boxes and cookbooks and grandmas. I am not saying that culinary exploration is wrong (in fact quite the opposite), but the understanding of food must first be acquired before one can really cook. To quote Julia Child, "This is my invariable advice to people: Learn how to cook- try new recipes, learn from your mistakes, be fearless, and above all have fun!" (My Life in France)Any time I cook, I try to keep Julia Child and my grandma in my mind. I try to have fun, enjoy myself, and don't be constrained by recipes. No great person has ever simply stuck to what works. Is the world flat? Is the atom the smallest thing? Will the hadron collider make the world end? To improve we must try new things and make mistakes. Lots of mistakes! I make it my goal to try something new everyday in some form or another so that I can learn from these experiences. I search for odd restaurants or unusual ingredients or try something on the menu that I normally would not. Keeping my grandma in mind, cooking should be about enjoyment and making other people happy, as well as making tasty food.
In a rare boasting moment, I was actually lucky enough to be on Foodnetwork! Even better, I was on for my combination of culinary and mechanical knowledge. The show Glutton for Punishment came to my campus to partake in a competition where teams have 1 hour to build a race car made out of only food. At the end, all the cars are released from a ramp and the car that travels the furthest wins. Bob was tough competition and had much better art skills than my group, but in the end we took home the prize. Our car traveled over 100 feet (2nd place was less than 10 feet and most cars exploded at the end of the ramp) and only stopped because it hit a man hole. Traffic had to stop because it was about to cross the street. The secret to our success was melting caramel to use as glue for the fettucinni axle. The links are embedded below.
Part 1:
Part 2:
Until next time, keep eating and exploring.
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