I have a little story. Oh don’t look at me like that! You’ll like this story. It has a happy ending. I promise it’s about food too. Okay, I also promise it's brief. Now will you keep reading?
I have this friend (‘cuz this could never happen to me). He was in the middle of preparing a special dish. Let’s say it was Salmon Tartare inspired by his buddy Dash of Stash (who is coincidentally a buddy of mine as well). And for the sake of this story let’s say he’d gotten to a certain place in the preparation of this dish. He came across that moment. You know the moment I am talking about. We have all been there.
He had spent a considerable amount of time, energy, a pretty penny getting to this moment. As he leaned over his concoction of sweet salmon beautiness, the hills and crystal blue sky in view outside his kitchen window (okay, I am editorializing here somewhat). He took in the deeply savory aroma of his creation and he put a spoonful into his mouth. This is the moment of “taste”.
But something was wrong. You could see that by the look on his face. But he is an experienced cook. He knew this was no big deal. So he did not panic. This is why the phrase “season to taste” was invented. It’s that last shining moment when the cook gets to tweak his culinary baby into its peak performance.
He began to reach for the salt, because surely “season to taste” means salt and possibly pepper. Right?
Sippity Sup Continues »





















