I do not know cooking. Except a cup of tea or coffee, or an egg or some rice and dal, I can’t make my own food.
My wife, though a decent cook, doesn’t quite love cooking. Neither does she have the time or energy for it now. But whenever she cooks, she makes dishes that we have liked for years. She knows them very well, and she learnt them from a cook book earlier in life.
She experiments sometimes, but she knows what exactly goes into the dishes, in how much proportion, how much heating and for how long the dish needs it – basically the recipe. There’s little room for error, and mind you, whenever she cooks, the dishes taste well – the same they have been over the years.
My son is good at making dishes out of his head. He has never read through a recipe. What he loves is the process of cooking and experimenting what ingredients go well together and in what proportion. He comes up with his own recipes, orders the ingredients on his own, and whenever, he cooks, he is at it for hours together.
We wait, often with bated breath, typically on Sundays, guessing what’s next for lunch. Most often the dishes turn out to be fine. Sometimes, they turn out to be duds. But whether we say it is good or bad, he isn’t satisfied and has some improvisation that he wants to work on the next time.
Both cooks and chefs are important. They have their parts to play.
The toughest, and often the worst, thing to do is to try and aim for both in the same person, especially in their sojourn with food. The creativity & brilliance of the chef and the discipline & consistency of a cook.
Wouldn’t that be great? It is often wanting. But, over time, that’s exactly what makes a great combination.
This applies to everything else that involves creation and delivery. Or consistent delivery of original creation. Whether it is writing, painting, music or something else. Being part chef, part cook provides sufficient food for thought.
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