Perfectionism, or the death of cooking

My Mother was a great cook and a working mother. After I got old enough, when I asked her to make something I loved, she showed me how to make it. So I’ve been cooking since I was a kid.

The reality of cooking is that there will always be epic failures. I’ve had some failures that were so epic that I still remember them decades later.

After having barbecued squid, fresh out of the Malibu California ocean (caught during a grunion run), I decided that I was going to make squid.

The only squid that were available were small squid about four inches long. It took a long time to remove the squid’s internal shells and the process left me feeling slightly ill. When I finally had the squid prepared, I sauteed them in garlic butter.

The result was nothing like the tender, wonderful squid I had in Malibu. Instead the result were squid that had the consistency of rubber bands and tasted terrible, even with garlic and butter. I ended up throwing it all out.

Then there was the time when I decided to make corned beef and ended up with meat that had turned an unappetizing grey and was so salty that it was inedible.

And the Boston clam chowder were I over cooked the milk and it became known as “clam something”.

Creation always has the risk of failure. I’m happy to say that I succeed more often than I fail. But I’ve failed in the past and I will fail in the future.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.