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Object-oriented cooking

June 9, 2010

It seems, basically, that there are two ways of approaching cooking.

Firstly, there’s the way J does it. You open a recipe book, pick a recipe, and you do exactly what it says; you measure quantities, set temperatures, time times.

Secondly, there’s the way I do it. You open the cupboard, select some stuff, mix it up in a ratio that looks about right, and cook it until it’s done.

Based on the anecdotal evidence of people I know, first-method cooks and second-method cooks tend to be completely baffled by one another. It’s a case of “How can you do that?” being met with an equally confused “How come you can’t?” and is liable to lead to friction when a type one and a type two cook are collaborating.

Further enquiry has established what looks like a promising correlation: the second-method cooks (Rhiannon and I) learnt to cook by example, at a parent’s elbow; the first-method cooks (Graham and J) didn’t. I don’t think the neat gender divide there is entirely a coincidence, but that’s irrelevant to the main thrust of the point, which is this: you have to have a reference point for ‘looks right’, ‘about the right amount’, ‘looks done’, and you only acquire that reference point by being able to look at (smell, taste, poke) a satisfactory example. That point of reference, that context, is crucial.

Computers are thick. This is nowadays much obscured by the mind-boggling number-crunching power of the best ones and by individual incidents (like Deep Blue beating Kasparov) that seem to show computer intellect as superior to that of humans. But computers are ignorant. If you say to an English-speaking human “Make me a sandwich” they may not actually do it, but they probably can.

Whereas the computer will say “What’s a sandwich?” And then, when you explain what a sandwich is, “What’s bread? What constitutes a filling? Cut how, exactly? Where do you put the butter when you butter it? What does ‘edible’ mean?” And so on. Before you can reliably get a computer to make you a sandwich, you have to give it every last bit of contextual knowledge necessary to even understand the concept of ‘sandwich’, let alone how to make one, starting from the ground up, and that’s after you’ve made it capable of conversation, understanding and fluent English (none of which have yet been done).

A human cook will have learnt most of the necessary contextual knowledge (like what’s edible) simply in the course of growing up and learning to talk. But too often cookbooks assume a level of cooking-specific contextual knowledge that their readers don’t necessarily have. When your cookbook says ‘simmer gently’ or ‘boil until soft’, you’re skipping a step: what does ‘simmer’ mean? How soft? Does not compute.

So firstly there’s that: context.

Learning to cook by watching it happen also makes obvious what is camouflaged in recipes, which is that cooking is modular. The basic unit of cookery is not the recipe, or the dish; it’s the process, and a recipe is just a certain number of processes carried out in a particular order.

Boiling pasta is a process. Steaming rice is a process. Frying onions is a process. Making batter (or dough, etc.) is a process. Making sauce is a process. And so on.

It’s ridiculous and time-consuming to teach a computer an entirely new program every time you want it to do something, so you teach it processes add, subtract, multiply, divide – and then stack those processes in the right order to get more complicated processes. Then you stack those. Et voilà, you have a program. Or a meal.

This is where most cookbooks can be supremely unhelpful: they list individual recipes as if they’re each a separate, unique, irreducibly complex monolith when in fact they’re made out of interchangeable building blocks. To switch metaphors for a moment: Lego. The same set of bricks can build you a spaceship, a pirate ship, a hospital, a prison, a castle, or a giant robot. You do not, whatever the Lego Group would like you to think, have to buy a brand new set every time you want to build something new.

The same is with cooking. With a basic set of cooking modules available (as it were) you can turn out any number of dishes, thanks to the magic of combinatorics. Even if you do what I tend to do and not deviate much from the (form of carbohydrate)+(form of protein)+(some vegetables) formula, that’s still many, many options given the sheer number of things available in each category.

Obviously all of this doesn’t address the very real physical and practical obstacles (it tends to require a lot of time and standing up, neither of which is necessarily as straightforward for everyone as they typically are for the able middle class) to cooking from scratch, but there’s also this mysterious perception floating around that cooking is tricky, as distinct from tiring or time-consuming. It’s exacerbated by recipe books that blithely assume you already have all the background knowledge: when something’s full of jargon you don’t understand, it’s too easy to slip into thinking “… and therefore it must be extremely difficult.”

Surely there’s room for a book that, rather than listing recipes, lists processes – just tells you one or two ways to cook as many common ingredients as possible, with some pointers as to which ones stack well. Maybe there could be a flowchart. Something that exploits the flexible and re-combinable nature of cooking rather than concealing it with a focus on specific, set-piece dishes. I think it’d find a niche.

6 Comments leave one →
  1. June 10, 2010 12:40 am

    I used to have a cookbook like that, though it was aimed squarely at children (“101 Simple Recipes for Children”, I think it was called). The first couple of pages explained what “mix”, “blend”, “bake”, “melt”, “whip” and so on meant, and then the recipes were basically storyboards, illustrated with clip art of each step. It divided it into the ‘modules’ too, so making a pasta dish, for example, would put “boil the pasta” and “simmer the tomatoes” on parallel lists. I don’t know if anyone’s ever tried marketing a book like that to adults though.

    As for my technique, I think I fall halfway between the two. What I generally do is search for a few different takes on the same recipe, then pick the common ingredients of each, along with any particularly interesting sounding additions (“Nutmeg!? In jerk chicken!? What kind of crazy ide- mmm…”). That averages out the weird quirks of different cooks (which saves me having to buy strange, expensive vegetables that the chef only included to gentrify the recipe), and gives me a (hopefully) more reliable recipe. As much as I’d like to pretend that’s some sort of physics training shining through (“Take more measurements! More measurements! Average them all together! Take even more measurements! Plot a graph!”), I think it’s more just rebelling against the printed rules, almost like when you’re little and you’re trying to explain to your dad that no matter what Delia Smith says, tagliatelle carbonara would look awesome with a bottle of blue food colouring.

    And while I love to cook by just chucking everything in a pan and calling it a soup (worked very, very well for carrots and goat’s cheese, not so well for tea bags and lettuce), there are some recipes where I can’t gutfeel the numbers, which is why without a cookbook, my cakes normally come out like dry biscuits and my biscuits like greasy dough.

  2. heliconia permalink
    June 10, 2010 2:15 am

    I can’t help but think of Arthur Dent trying to get the Heart of Gold to make him a cup of tea…

  3. June 10, 2010 8:40 pm

    I’m one of those people who had to (overcome some massive mental blocks/fears/crazy irrational paranoias in order to) learn to cook quite late on, and I’m a girl 😀 Which might explain why I was so terrified of learning and left it so late – because learning would be admitting that I didn’t know in the first place, and wtf kind of girl does that make me, eh?

    It was mostly because my dad just won’t let anyone else into the kitchen. He’s a fabulous cook, but the kitchen is His Sacred Realm.

    I tend to go through phases of wanting to do everything super exactly and being adventurous and deciding to use up all of our ingredients on one random, thrown-together feast. Which is almost certainly because a lot of my learning not to fear ovens was around atomicspin ❤

  4. wickedday permalink
    June 11, 2010 1:42 pm

    @heliconia: Ha. Exactly. Now you mention it, that’s a pretty good (if extreme) example.

    @atomicspin: Lettuce-and-teabag soup does not even sound good, though. At least both the ingredients of carrot-and-cheese soup are edible on their own. Also! Coloured pasta! We did that at least once. Did you know that people eat less of things when they’re a strange colour? The cook on one of the British Antarctic expeditions of the 1910s was worried about how fast they were going through bread, and so started dyeing it blue. Magically, people ate less of it.

    @ukenagashi: My sister does a similar THOU SHALT NOT PASS act when cooking. You are just about allowed access to the fridge, but woe betide you if you try to, e.g., stir something on the hob.

    Aaand thank you for handily illustrating my non-point about gender divisions. It’s amazing how often guys get let off not being able to cook, whereas girls? Nooo. It is apparently one of our sacred duties and not being able to/not being good at it is grounds for expulsion from the female race. Also, fucked-up assumptions. If we brought, say, food to a church dinner or similar, people would always compliment my mum rather than ask whose it was (it was about as likely to be my dad). Always. It’s kind of like how if your house is untidy people tend to blame any women present, because men don’t tidy duh.

    Speaking of random thrown-together feasts, I have yet to find an ingredient that won’t go into curry. I cooked for the family one time last Christmas and put in everything I could find (including cherries, bananas and hummus) and it tasted great.

  5. Paul Skinner permalink
    June 22, 2010 10:17 am

    My father has an Indian recipe book for cooking like Indian takeaways (something quite different from authentic Indian cooking). It practically revolves around one base sauce that you add to to create the different recipes. So it has Chapter 1: making the sauce, Chapter 2: Making it taste of something

    I like that idea a lot.


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