Chef to Shrink: A Question from Granor Farm's Abra Berens
In honor of my flying to Granor Farm in a few weeks to cook with chef Abra Berens on Leap Day, a question on strategies for freezer strays. There's a link to dinner tickets below!
Dear Tamar:
I leverage the freezer a lot to hold on to stray ingredients until I can work them into a new dish. Do you have any go-to methods for keeping items from falling to the back of the freezer?
Dear Abra,
I rafted the Zambezi river once. I was twenty. I’m terrified of fast-moving white water—of being pulled under a capsized raft. I’m terrified of…well, to be honest, a lot of things. I’m scared of slipping on ice. I’m scared of cycling down hills. I’m scared of surfing. I’m scared of making mortgage payments.
I’ve done all those things though. I offer my profuse list of accomplishments-I-feared because to accomplish them, I used the strategy I recommend to you for your freezer. The strategy is—I’m going with an aquatic theme—: Get yourself into deep water. And then get out.
The Zambezi’s first rapid is called The Wall. Who paddles into something called “The Wall?” I spur myself to do things by taking the first step without allowing myself to even consider the second, third, and fourth ones, and so on.
How does this apply to your freezer? I suggest thawing the two or three things that most need using. When I notice items beginning to retreat into cold icy corners, I take them from the freezer and place them in the sink. It helps that I can’t see into my sink.
This, Abra, is the deep water.
That night, or the following morning, I face the music: I have thawed foods that must be cooked. Flailing in the deep water, I find inspiration. The bones that never suggested a meal now point to Pho. The frozen polenta must be pressed and fried—it’s clear that all I need is fried sage and fresh mozzarella. The only obstacles were psychological: fear, or inertia, or the absence of urgency.
I find this strategy useful in an amusingly broad array of situations. I’ve gotten a gun license, gone lobster fishing in a squall, and swam in the Atlantic mid-winter—all things I might have avoided if I hadn’t committed in advance. Whether all of this is cowardly or enlightened I don’t know, and I probably never will.
Dear Abra, you’ll get into deep water indeed by thawing things—you have a restaurant, and ingredients you’ve grown, or spent good money on. But you are a chef who makes careful, beautiful food. You’ll find your way out of the deep water, and the rest of us will benefit.
Abra and I will be cooking TOGETHER at Granor Farm on February 29 for a Leap Day Fete! There may still be some tickets left to the dinner. We’ll find glorious hidden things in the Granor freezer and turn them into a beautiful meal. Come join us!
