The Case of Chill Jill

And IRL feedback; and introducing: The Kitchen Shrink...annotated, by Bonnie Suarez

Dear Tamar:

Recipes will say prep time is 10-15 minutes, yet it often takes me longer—30 minutes or more. What am I doing wrong?

-Chill Jill

Dear Chill Jill,

During elementary school, I was the last kid picked for team sports. I would stand on the sideline at recess or gym, trying to look nonchalant, as Carmen and Jen, in the captain-and-already-picked area, chatted, admiring each other’s nail polish and bikini strap tan lines. They’d consult intermittently, then point insouciantly at Sharon, then Joy, then Leora. One would eventually condescend to pick Amanda, Stephanie, Yael. Finally, no matter the game—kickball, softball, dodgeball, and volleyball—a team would end up with me.

I don’t blame them. I was endowed with a negative magnetic charge for any ball. Except a dodgeball. A dodgeball could find me like a heat seeking missile—but got slippery as a fish if it touched my palm. All other balls would reverse course and head away from me when it was my turn. I repelled balls.

I attributed my athletic defect—per ironclad pre-teen logic—to my indomitably curly hair, skinny shoulders, braces, weird way of sitting with my neck poking straight out, and lack of clothing by either Benetton or Camp Beverly Hills. All were out of my control, so I gave up on ball sports, which worked out tidily—none of my flaws presented a hurdle in mock trial or theater.

Only, last year that I learned that my curls, small bones, and braces weren’t to blame for my athletic shortcomings. The real culprit was interpretation. When parents, coaches, gym teachers, counselors, etc. had said: “keep your eye on the ball,” I had heard a broad metaphor. It is a metaphor—my eye isn’t literally supposed to be on the ball. But it’s a narrow one. I’d thought the advice was obvious: watch the thing you’re trying to make contact with. Wrong. After last year becoming obsessed with playing tennis, I’ve discovered that to “keep your eye on the ball” means to really and truly give the ball one’s full attention for the duration of the time one is playing with the ball. That is what the jabbering grown ups were on about. I’m sorry, grown ups.

If you weren’t the last person picked for school sports, you know this about the ball. It’s important because it is a fairly precise analogue for food preparation. People who cook for a living approach every prep task with their eye on the figurative ball. They develop ways of focusing completely on the task at hand until it is done. The focus may be interrupted. Then it will resume. They must have this focus, or they will, as we say: “go down." When a professional cook is chopping an onion, they will, for a short time, be only chopping that onion. When they are picking herbs from their stems, that’s what they’re doing. Their eye, in other words, is on the ball. They are not un-chill. They just have a single point of focus for as long as they need it.

When I cooked at Chez Panisse, we had to prep tons of vegetables, irregular and dirty, still with their leaves and stems and barbs and shells. I would sometimes ask fellow cooks for their strategies. One, named Mick, described his cherry-tomato strategy—we would have to pick hundreds of cherry tomatoes from their withered vines in tiny windows of time before and during service—as: “See the tomato, not the vine.” He’d found that he moved through the task most efficiently when he gave his full focus to each tomato, ignoring everything else in the frame.

When I teach new cooks how to pick a bunch of parsley leaves from their stems—which can be intimidating—I give similar advice: focus on each leaf, editing the stem, the clock, the rest of life, from the frame. I instruct them to silently say to themselves, as they pluck: “Leaf, leaf, leaf, leaf.” I’ve found that by focusing on each leaf, pinching it off, then moving on—rather than engaging with the idea of repetitive, rigorous sorting and plucking—I’m done before I know it.

Whoever wrote the recipes you follow at home, and whoever tested them, are professional cooks. They’re executing recipe steps as I describe above—focusing on each of them, for the time it takes. They probably have pretty good knife skills, and pretty sharp knives, which factor, too. But mostly, they are focused, and do each task until it’s done, before moving on to the next one.

Dear cook, you may be Rafa on the court. You may find sports metaphors insufferable. Like most of us, you have lots going on—your mind and body may not be trained solely on whatever onion or parsley you face. If it annoys you to lag behind prep times, experiment with simply doing each task, thinking only: “slice, slice, slice,” or “leaf, leaf, leaf.” You may find it enjoyable. It is one of the things I like best about cooking, and indeed what “escaping into cooking”—if such a thing exists—means to me. If you aren’t in the mood for such an experiment, triple the prep time in a recipe, understanding the mindset of its writer. And please know, that under no circumstances, must you surrender your chill. No good has ever come of that.

Kitchen Shrink LIVE results are in. People have sent photos of their successes after my prescriptions! See below: the result of learning to roast vegetables separately, then combine to serve!

A very accomplished cook named Bonnie Suarez annotates my columns and sends me ideas. It’s unfair if I don’t share them with you. In response to Unyoking This is No Yoke, Bonnie wrote:

And for the less ambitious readers, scrambled eggs (fortified with extra yolks) on buttered toast for breakfast, lunch, or dinner and a simple vinaigrette for salad!

In response to The Ordeal of the Order Muppet:

I lay out all cutlery, dishes, glasses etc. so guests can set the table and light candles at the appropriate time. If they have to ask or search thru drawers or cabinets that can cause my head to spin. How about making batch cocktails in advance (alcoholic or non) and guests can pour their own or one of them can step up as server? I also like to have some nibble things like nuts or crackers to enjoy with their drinks and surreptitiously keep them away from key areas of the kitchen.

And my favorite to date, replying to On a Search for Sage Advice:

Setting aside ancient people’s use of herbs for medicinal purposes, a simple tea can be made by pouring boiling water over a couple of leaves or stems for your afternoon tea. Beyond that: an herb infused simple syrup for a favorite nonalcoholic or alcoholic cocktail. Try thyme or basil simple syrup with some soda water and lime or add your favorite spirit (gin, vodka, or tequila, and you’ve got a party!) Try fruit purée like blueberry, cherry, or strawberry and muddle it with some basil, cilantro, or thyme and seltzer and dare I say it, you’ve made a homemade soda.

I’ll drink to that

Cin cin.

Cin cin to Bonnie and all of you!