Wednesday, February 10, 2010

amour de nourriture

I’ve many fond memories of good food. Being a chef and all, the experience and celebration of food is where my life revolves. For now, I will turn you onto a childhood experience that imprinted itself on me, so much that I knew from that moment on that I had wanted to become a professional chef.

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He had a crisp white jacket and a tall toque on his head. In front of him were two burners and two non-stick pans which he swirled butter in when they had become hot. He then carefully ladled out a thin white batter onto the hot pan and skillfully started tilting – forward, sideways and backwards, so that the batter would coat the entire hot surface before it settled down to cook. The smell of butter wafted through the air of the dining room, and the man in the crisp white jacket took a small spatula and smoothly slid a thin, circular sheet of perfection onto the plate.

He turned to his right side and took a spoonful of fresh mangoes in simple syrup and laid it on the center of the plate. His hand reached for a bowl of sweetened fresh whipped cream, and before I knew it, he had placed a dollop on top of the mangoes. Using the same spatula to free the thin and lacy pancake, the chef folded it into thirds. He smiled as he handed the plate to me.

I was mesmerized from the minute I saw this process begin. It was romance, with pans involved. I had never been impressed with flapjacks, silver dollars or waffles. I always thought the process of making pancakes was a bit rough: ladle the batter, wait for it to grow a million bubbles (which I actually found a bit gross and alien like), and flip. Crepe making was different, however. It involved subtle skillful gestures like a somewhat loose hold on the pan and the delicate turning of one’s wrist in order to achieve a perfect product. It was a coy dance - one that aims for nothing less than to seduce your senses. The movement is a mastery of love for a simple, yet elegant food.

With my 9 year old hands, I took a highly polished fork and proceeded to cut into the gem of a dish I had in front of me. The thin crepe gave way, its velvet softness parting to expose its sweet contents. I took a mouthful in, and I was in flavor heaven. The buttery crepe cradled the tender and delicate mangoes, and the rich cream melt in my mouth enveloping all the pleasant tastes that this dish had to offer. I had no abrupt desire to chew and swallow. I just wanted to stay in this state of bliss, forever, if God would permit it.

Sadly, through the years and all my travels, through all the crepes I have sampled, I have never had a moment as magical as this.

It was roughly 19 years ago since I had this experience. I was dining with my mother and my cousin at the Bahia, a restaurant in what was previously known as Manila Garden (I believe it is now owned by the Dusit Hotel Group). Before I was even ten years old, my passion for food was already being awakened and kindled. Little did I know that it would lead me to become who I am at present. I now wear the white jacket, and on quiet weekend mornings, I would take my De Buyer crepe pan from its dormancy and swirl it with butter and a thin, milky batter. I would take my jar of Nutella and some bananas, make a layer of filling in the middle, and neatly fold my breakfast item of choice into thirds. Nearly two decades later, I wouldn’t have expected this experience to lurch from my memory in vivid detail. But, the memory of a first love is not one to be washed away - not by time, circumstance, or even a more recent amour.

And this was indeed, love at first bite.

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