Sanctuary from The Mad World
Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what's for lunch. - Orson Welles

This link from a friend got me thinking about my own recipe deal breakers. As I reflect upon that point, I realize that as a home cook, I’ve changed a lot. In my cramped studio in Jakarta, the rule was clear: no deep frying, no pungent sauteing, no multiple use of pots on the stove at any given time. I also told myself that there would be no baking-related activities because I was so traumatized by the hassle my mother got herself into to produce her famous Lapis Legit for Chinese New Year. She would have tons of flours and crates of eggs, run her numerous mixers, hand-held or otherwise, the whole day to produce bucketful of fluffy batters. Then she would crank her ovens (yes, plural) the next day to produce the cake. No. I’d rather let her do it and collect my share after.

In this slightly more spacious but still limited kitchen, the list has evolved along with my desire to experiment and my craving for certain dishes. Here they are.

1. No deep-frying because I hate mopping the stubborn oil spots from the kitchen wall and floor. OK, there’s splatter guard and walls and deep-fryer but they bring a different set of problems (Sink is not big enough to wash the deep fryer oil container; I hate the idea of oil sitting in the oil reservoir and not getting used; sure, there are the removable type but that means extra capital and, furthermore, keeping oil in the fridge takes up valuable real-estate in the prime fridge space, etc). Yeah, I’m whiny, I know.

2. No delicate and expensive ingredients, especially herbs which do not freeze well because I can only buy them in bulks and do not use them fast enough. We’re a household of two and, despite our voracious appetite, we can only eat so much. There was one time I bought a bag of coriander leaves and it took me close to a month to finish them in various dishes. I was proud to use every one of the yellowing leaves which I kept fresh in a jar of water wrapped in plastic bag but perhaps I won’t do it again. Thai Food, by David Thompson, sadly becomes underutilized because of exactly this deal-breaker.  And at this point, No exotic seafood.  That is by design rather than choice because this place is surrounded by mountains with the closest sea being about 6-7 hours away!

3. No over-processing and over-engineering ala French’s haute cuisine because I hate the idea of wasting nutrients in food. I cringe every time I make the Seasoned Spinach recipe because I feel I squeeze every good elements of a spinach into the drain. I hate the idea of wasting water for excessive blanching and refreshing, unnecessary cleaning of pots, unjust repeated filtering just to get the clearest and cleanest of stock. Therefore, if I do eventually buy the French Laundry, which I will, it’ll be used for reading and cherry-picking of doable recipes rather than practice.

4. No fussy steps because life is just to short. De-seeding tomatoes? What am I going to do with those juices? Stone and chop those olives? I would stand on my chopping block for an hour just to produce a five-minute meal? Melt the chocolate in a bain-marie?  Why?  When a three-minute zap in the microwave will do? Making fried-noodle or beehoon is also one of the hated activities because I have to boil the noodle, deal with sticky mess, then stir them using all the hand power I have.

5. No complicated equipments because I don’t have the capital and the storage. A multi-purpose hand-held mixer, a non-stick pan, a standard wire colander all work fine, thanks. A CHF 300 mandoline? A Chinoise to purify stock? A Kitchen Aid mixer (preferably in red)? I would be lying if I said I don’t want them but at this point, I can’t afford them so anything requiring finery, I’ll have to say pass.

Rules are meant to be broken though. Occasionally, when there are compelling reasons, I do brace myself (and beg my husband to clean the kitchen afterward) and make ayam goreng kuning to accompany a good sambal . I bring a huge pot of water to boil just to blanch a handful of basil so that my spaghetti looks prettily green and not nauseatingly gloppy.

I also learn the art of substituting and compromise. I recently discover that the green papayas in abundance here makes a better substitute to coyote than rhubarb. I short-cut the stock with, well, bullion if the stock is a complement to a dish rather than the main ingredients like noodle in clear soup. I peel the skin out of those tomatoes because I want my soup to be smooth but I stop short of de-seeding them. When appropriate, I don’t mind pounding spices in mortar and pestle and reserve the food processor for another less-demanding recipes.

I can predict with certainty that the list will get shorter as I conquer little by little these mountains of culinary challenges. I also get more confident in determining what works and what not. At one point, I was so sure that no salad dressing can work without mayonnaise or mustard and bought bottles of them to be left to die. But now I know that salad dressing can be practically anything to fit the sum of oil, acid, and flavourings.

But I’m sure there are still things that I definitely wouldn’t do. Making my own supply of fleur de sel from bucketfuls of salt water is one of them.

So… what’s yours?