Learning from Scraps

Reflections on different levels of food preparation.

“A good cook has no leftovers.” That’s a saying among traditional chefs. Which, of course, is only half true. Every cook has leftovers. No matter how carefully one calculates the possible number of customers who will come into a restaurant that day. But the real art is knowing what to do with the leftovers and turning them into… Other dishes. That’s where the money can be made to hire extra help in the kitchen or pay for the kids’ tuition. Because leftovers are spare ingredients, when you think about it. You can turn them into soups – the most common solution – or sauces and desserts, for example. Of course, this only works for leftovers BEFORE they leave the kitchen. Because once they are out there on a plate or even a buffet, they are basically waste. This is the sad part of large portions and opulent buffets. So better not let it come to that. Think and work modularly. And get creative when it comes to using what you have. That’s the way a smart cook works-whether in a restaurant or at home.

Like any foodie kid – the biggest pots were taller than me when I started walking – this wisdom is just something you pick up along the way. But as you may have already figured out: I did not choose a career in the kitchen as my ‘official’ profession. Because it is incredibly hard work that can affect your health (back problems, stomach …), the hours are impossible and at the end of the day the customers criticize and even eat your art. Nope. But I have the greatest respect and love for the profession.

One thing I did get from the foodie kid experience, besides an inherited passion for making and eating good food, is that I love working with leftovers. So I plan them. Which is another way of saying: When I invent a dish – or even buy ingredients for an existing recipe – I always have in mind what to do with the leftovers from that dish, or the scraps I get from preparing it. In the case of vegetables, of course, the cuttings usually go into my homemade vegetable broth ([AnyBroth] or [Vegetable Broth]).

Or I prepare the ingredients in a way that gives me more ways to use them in recipes. For example, when I cut up a beetroot, I use the rounded sides and uneven tops to make it into a lot of different little shapes. Perfect for soups or sauces. I slice the center to use in a bowl or combination dish. If I am not going to use everything in one day, I freeze whatever is left over. Of course, multi-course meals are perfect for using up everything in one go. That’s how a variety of inexpensive three-course lunches are even possible in small family restaurants. Foodie kid knowledge again.

There is also ‘fridge day’. These are the days when I go through the fridge, freezer and kitchen cupboards and take out everything that needs to go. And accompany it with whatever might make an interesting companion. Then I start cooking. Working the impossible combination. I love that. No limits, just lots of opportunities. In fact, some of my best recipes have come about this way. You can learn a lot from improvising. And – just like in jazz – the real music often begins between the chords and beyond the sheets of music.

You could say that leftovers are the irresistible theme, the dancing bass notes, and the catchy lyrics to new classics and all familiar novelties. They are the pure magic of good food.

… I love working with leftovers. So I plan them. Which is another way of saying: When I invent a dish – or even buy ingredients for an existing recipe – I always have in mind what to do with the leftovers from that dish, or the scraps I get from preparing it.

Side Notes:

• If you ever wondered why on earth someone would name a main category on their blog about mindful eating and good food “Learning from Scraps”. There’s your answer.
• Today’s accompanying recipe is a way to use up leftover Hoppidge, my traditional breakfast of millet, amaranth, and oatmeal (see [‘Hoppidge on Tour’]).
• Famous jazz pianist and composer Thelonious Monk had the philosophy that real music often lies between usual patterns or genres (or standard scales, for that matter). There is this wonderful movie by Bert Stern about the 1958 Newport Jazz Festival. Featuring – among other legends – Thelonious, Dinah, Mahalia, Anita, Chuck and, of course: Satchmo. Definitely one of my favorite oldtime concert movies.