Introduction: Cook without Measure

Nonie (my mother) followed recipes to a "t" (which, by the way, means something other than a "T"). She needed to know exact amounts; she measured each item, sliding a knife across the top of a quarter-teaspoon measure to be sure her measurement was precise. If she adjusted a recipe, she recorded her adjustments in great detail, even including the date and event for which she was cooking.

No wonder then, she was frustrated when cooking with me. I started cooking with her in my youth even saying, "One cup of milk," as I held a jug of milk over the bowl, pouring more-or-less a cup into a bowl that held the other ingredients, pacing my speech to match my perception of the correct amount -- or an amount that would do. I'd even raise and lower the jug with a flourish, just to annoy her. I sprinkled spices, adding nutmeg whenever cinnamon was added (because, I reckoned, I was from Connecticut and wanted to support the state of my happy youth.) I enjoyed (and still enjoy) cooking by feel, by smell, by taste. My dishes morphed from my mother's pre-measured delights to new fare -- sometimes tasty and sometimes not.

Recipes then, need to be robust. Each needs to withstand the stressor of a different amount or with embellished ingredients and still produce a quality product. I understand that the cookie recipes, for example, on the back of the chocolate chip bags, always will come out well if the baker makes a volume mistake in an ingredient. The chocolate-chip company wants those recipes to be robust and to always produce a delicious cookie even when the baker makes an error. This supports my idea that a good recipe is robust and can withstand slightly differing amounts of an ingredient.

Then, there's also this: the smell, the feel, the visceral truth of making something that spans the necessary in addition to the artistic. Art in food preparation is uniquely human and a spirituality borne of the joys of appreciating combinations of flavors and textures with the necessity of nutrition. There's feeling the yeast grow as you knead the dough into elasticity. There's the calm delight in smelling the tomatoes as your stomach develops a moody ache. There's the satisfaction and full feeling after the food is prepared and before it is consumed.

Measuring is mathematics; feeling is artistic. As my life moves from the math classroom into this next chapter, I'm drawn toward feeling. I'm drawn towards assembling truths and my own humanity through art and craft forms that touch a spirit.

To that end, accompanying the recipes in this blog, my youtube channel videos demonstrate how I Cook Without Measure. my YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCKB8Cr8xU0pFLIHLICgb1-Q/playlists