The Diminishing Returns of Pleasure

Thomas Keller, probably number one among my culinary influences, once noted that he served his soups in very small, but intense servings. The first taste, he said, blows you away. The second, still amazing, but a bit less so. And by about a half dozen spoonfuls, he says, we are no longer surprised and delighted by what his kitchen has prepared. And so he keeps his portions on the small side: intense flavors meant to be savored bit by bit before the unfamiliar becomes a bit lackluster.

It’s a very accurate description of how we experience things, not just in the kitchen, but, quite frankly, everywhere. Wouldn’t it be amazing to sense the world every day like a toddler? OK, granted, wearying, but also amazing. What I wouldn’t give to have the freedom to do everything on our soul food kitchen menu a bit differently every day.

Of course, madness lurks just beyond the horizon of such a fantasy. A simple example from our soul food kitchen should suffice: The case of our beluga lentil salad.

This dish started off hubly enough: small black (so-called “beluga”) lentils cooked slowly with a few vegetables and a bouquet garni and then settled in the cooking juices overnight before draining, dressing with a mustard vinaigrette sauce and garnished with slivers of red onions.

It’s a lovely salad. Until a guest notes that it needs something “more.” Too much lentils is what he said. Ahhh, diminishing returns. So I layer in a base of parboiled Iranian-style basmati rice. Which soaks in some of the lentil seasonings, provides a nice visual contrast, and creates a nicely-balanced dish on its own. Again, a lovely dish. Until a guest notes that something “more” is needed.

And so instead of the simple slivers of red onion garnish, I layer with a sumac pickled red onion. And add on a topping of grilled bbq tofu slices, garnished with cilantro. Now we have a complete meal on our hands, although I have to admit, the pickled onions and tofu are now drowning out the subtleties of the mustard vinaigrette dressing.

Which leads to the next round of commentary from one of my guests who notes that the dish seems to be lacking something that my other dishes have.

I’m going back to ground zero. The Myth of Sisyphus is far too much embedded in this all-too-true vignette.