All I need

aprile 6, 2017

Hours spent in cooking classes with amateurs, other ones with pros (where I was the only non-pro; nowadays I wear not chef coat, just sage green or black aprons)… washing pots and dishes, peeling potatoes, chopping onions, deboning anchovies (even cats don’t get their leftovers as blood is too bitter), simmering hare waste, extracting every single drop of shrimp heads and carcasse for a bisque, filtering mussels broth, scratching boar or pigeon through a strainer to get a ridiculous bunch of coarse mince… 

Hundreds of cooking books, subscriptions both to genial and spam-like links… Japanese knives, artisanal copper casseroles from Tuscany, every year Mauviel and de Buyer toys under my Christmas tree, assorted facons for textiles, glasses (ranging from Bormioli to Baccarat), plates (french antiques, minimal jap, danish delicacy, sicilian opulence, silver austerity)… 

An assorted dozen each for salt (Trapani, Cervia, Maldon, Camargue, Hawaii, Himalaya…), vinegar (apple, walnut, strawberry, malt, honey, balsamic…), olive oil (Italy is a universe because of cultivars)… 

Wonderful explorations along the borders of pleasure together with hard work, humility and dedication. 

There’s no perfect world with cooking: magic tools, secret ingredients, “Italian jobs” don’t make the difference.It’s just about humble passion, proper ingredients, basic techniques, respect for the act of sharing food. 

I recently read a psychologist about cooking-therapy and I share his point: I cook by heart to raise positive energies around me. 

As cooking becomes a proof of concept, I care less. 
Feeling better in being authentic and warming. 

Pictures by myself, Riccardo Rama de Tisi

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