Flavor, blackouts and Memory Almost Full Lately, I have been throwing myself into the very depths of understanding, the situational flavorings, and breaking free of using recipes. It would seem that as one chef put it, cooking from a recipe is no more than painting by numbers. I know in my heart, that my initial drive is something primal. I have to do it, I have to cook whatever that thing is that hits me like the fever. I’ve become powerless to resist. Suddenly I give in and I fall and keep falling. Then the wonderfulness happens. So, come on! I know who I am there, or at least, I’m knocking on the door. Thinking, analyzing, breathing, and tasting. Feeling the vibrations on the floor. The light breeze. It’s all there, all contributing. What it becomes is that taste that just may never happen again, and if you were here, you were here. You can never tell its story, you can never give it, sing it, or paint it. Maybe. I know Poppy Crum how right you are. I am talking about a...
Diary of a Mad Scientist Korean Gourmet