Tacos are like ogres: they're complicated (étude or essay: what's the diff?)

UPDATE 28.xii.18: Recipe links added at the end.

Dear Colleague,

It has been too long since we've had a discussion about food and music. The circumstances behind the hiatus are not important; it will suffice to say that I have been thinking about many posts and the connections between food and my own music practice for the past few years. I have recently been contracted to write a monograph on American music history which has helped in rededicating myself to the practice of music, as well as redefine what I want to work on as a scholar-performer. 

In an earlier post about the multi-ethnic identity of tacos I mentioned that a post about tacos would be forthcoming. Consider this that post. After reading Gustavo Arellano's book, Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America, I now have a greater awareness of the backstory behind each and every taco I make or eat. This backstory includes recognizing the difference between Mexican, Tex-Mex, and New Mexican styles of food.

Speaking of awareness, no matter how many times you do something a benefit can be had from revisiting the history and processes that got you to where you are now. I've been making tacos for decades, reading about and cooking Mexican food for the same amount of time, and in the past ten years or so have been seriously working on improving not just my Mexican food chops but my culinary skills in general. Thus, after my cooking of chicken improved immensely after receiving a Craftsy course on cooking chicken from my wife (and believe me, up to that point I had cooked a LOT of chicken), I was excited when she brought home The Best Mexican Recipes: Kitchen Tested Recipes that put the Real Flavors of Mexico within Reach  from America's Test Kitchen. America's Test Kitchen does exactly that: test things in the kitchen until they are as efficient as they can be. Techniques refined, ingredients measured, and temperatures and cooking times confirmed and now laid out in a clean format with a list of ingredients and clear procedures that make each recipe accessible even for the novice home cook. 

So what did I do? Made more Mexican food, used different ingredients for different types of tacos (based, in part, from reading Mr. Arrellano's book which discusses, among many things, regional differences), and expanded my repertoire to include tortas and molletes. For these latter two gustatory pleasures I dragged a cookbook off the shelf that I had not used since the day bought it, Tacos, Tortas, and Tamales: Flavors from the Griddles, Pots, and Streetside Kitchens of Mexico, by Roberto Santibañez. Now, with refined skills and more knowledge, I merely had to look at the dish and the basic ingredients and I could make my own versions of a torta and mollete. And, well, no excursion into the realm of binge-eating Mexican food would be complete, at least for me, without cranking out some enchiladas. Not just any enchiladas. I used my special, private stock of Chimayo chile powder (medium; sun dried) to make the sauce, thus combining Mexican and New Mexican cuisine in one dish. If you say, "So what, they are just chile peppers?" then we have to have a serious conversation about attention to detail, subtle differences in taste, texture, heat, and context.  

Where does music fit in here? If you have been practicing similar exercises for years, or have moved away from technical work and have been just practicing repertoire (even using a deliberate practice), then you could likely benefit from reconsidering the processes and techniques that got you to this point in your musical endeavors. I have reevaluated my deliberate practice techniques, the etudes, caprices, scales, and specific pieces that present particular challenges and have re-engaged myself with particular components that I had set aside or had not played for a while. The musical equivalent of putting something on the top shelf where a step stool or stepladder is required to get the item off the shelf and use in a recipe.

Now that my practice has taken those ingredients off of the top shelf and put them back into the regularly-used items, I am refreshed, reinvigorated, revitalized, and other words that start with "re-" in my playing of music. In the words of the legendary Joe Bob Briggs, "check it out."

I remain, 

YMH&OS, 

Quantzalcoatl


UPDATE 28.xii.18
After posting this I received some feedback from friends and family who wanted some of my recipes. I can't do that because I just wing it every time I make tacos. Or enchiladas. Or tortas. Or mollettes. However, here are some links to different types of tacos. Beef, pork, fish, and vegetarian/vegan options. I chose them because of how they look on my computer screen, the pictures, one even has a video, and the apparent ease in following the recipe. Some of them come with back stories, others just talk about how to make tacos. Enjoy!

Carne asada tacos
Fish tacos
Chicken tacos
Salmon tacos
More fish tacos
Carnitas tacos
More carnitas tacos
Vegan mushroom tacos
Mushroom, corn, poblano tacos
More mushroom tacos
And even more mushroom tacos (OK, so I like mushrooms)

Les éléments (or, less is more)

Dear Colleague,

As usual, I am always looking for ways in which to streamline processes and achieve maximum benefits or results with minimum effort and material (work lazy, not harder, or something like that). About 15 years ago I came up with an efficient way to practice flute and recorder, wherein I work on fundamentals (tone development and technical exercises without looking at music) for 20 minutes, sight reading for 5 minutes, and work on concert repertoire from 5-10 minutes, for a grand total of approximately 30 minutes per practice session. This may extend to 45 minutes in the month or so before a concert, and in the two weeks prior to the event I do this two to three times per day.

My point (yes, I have one) is that this practice is focused, intense, without distractions, carefully timed, and designed to build stamina, concentration, accuracy, and to gain control of your instrument without any excess physical stress. This method of practice is not without a downside. When preparing for a concert and my wife is in the house and can hear the practice, she has been known to say, “Are you going to practice more than those 3 bars?” or “I guess I’ll have to go to the concert to hear the entire piece in context.“ After doing this for several years I started dumping this efficient practice on to my students. A few years ago one student came to me and gave me a book, Talent is Overrated, by Geoff Colvin, and told me that I should read this book because it validates a lot of what I was asking my students to do. It seems I was asking my students to commit to deliberate practice, or, as pointed out by Colvin and others, practicing the things that are not fun and, for musicians of all types, reaping the benefits of being able to enjoy playing music for fun with, well, more fun. This type of efficiency, essentially the 80/20 rule (briefly mentioned in my post on The Right Tool for the Job), has been further solidified and embedded in my attitude about flute practice and cooking by Tim Ferris in his 4-Hour books (4-Hour Body, 4-Hour Chef; I’ve not read the 4-Hour Work Week).

“Well, yes,” you ask, “how does this help your cooking? Do you practice chopping onions to refine your technique?”

OK . . . no, actually. I have, however, watched some videos of different chefs chopping onions and other edibles and then tried to emulate that in my own cooking. This deliberate practice in cooking manifests itself in the types of dishes I prepare, as well as their frequency, and number. By making the same few dishes several times I learn how to improve my efficiency and rely less on recipes and written procedures and more on my ability to conceive a project, its ingredients, and procedures. Now with a set of ingredients (and over time these same several dishes get their ingredients reduced; if you can make something that is as good or better as the original with fewer ingredients and procedures, why would you do otherwise?) I can essentially create my own recipes. Mark Bittman, in his invaluable How to Cook Everything, states that you should have five dishes that you can create without using a written recipe. For me this number is somewhere between 10-15 meals.

Another beneficial byproduct of this 80/20-deliberate practice-use-less-to-get-more-results is that now I can take a set number of ingredients (between three-five; herbs and spices do not count as ingredients and an herbs and spices essay is forthcoming) and create several different dishes. Think of it as a ground bass with its repeated harmonic pattern and how creative you can be within those guidelines. One of my recent meals contained just two ingredients and required a hands-on time of about 10 minutes and a total cooking time of 60 minutes (grilled salmon and baked spaghetti squash and a light drizzle of truffle honey). And the homemade sauerkraut has two ingredients, shredded cabbage and sea salt (and if herbs and spices do not count, then it has only one). 

Now when I hit my recently reorganized kitchen to make something, I want to spend as little time as possible messing around with stuff and with as few ingredients as possible. And if the unattended cooking time is 20 or more minutes, I can either get in my efficient strength training workout or practice tone development and chromatic scales on the flute. What say you?

Here is a live performance of a group performing a piece with minimal harmonic material (and a lot of words): Conde Claros. 

I remain,

YMH&OS,

Quantzalcoatl

The right tool for the job: accordions over knives

Dear Colleague,

I began a small-scale reorganization of the kitchen in order to put the tools I use most frequently in one place and closer to where the action is. During this process I realized that I have many more tools than I really need. It reminded me of the hiking – backpacking – outdoor survivalist philosophy of only take what is necessary and not what you think you might need. The same thing applies to playing music and going on a gig; pack only what you need for the number of days you are gone and only the tools and music that you need for the performance.

Before this little reorg I had my knives organized by ethnicity, that is, on one side I had all of the Asian style knives (santoku, nakiri, and cleaver), and on the other side the European/French style knives (the standard chef, pairing, and boning knives). As you know I am continually striving to improve my skills as a musician, researcher, and cook. For Christmas I was given an online course on cooking chicken.

“What?" you say, "Why do you need a course on cooking chicken?”

My response is that everyone should take this course on cooking chicken, no matter how well you think you can make it because it is always beneficial to periodically revisit something you have been doing, using, or teaching for some time. Get refreshed and energized. Part of my mission, goal, and enthusiasm for the things that I love in this life is to try to take what I do and make it more efficient, streamlined, or just easier to do and thus make it more enjoyable.

Following the 80/20 idea for work and creativity, that is, 20% of the effort will get 80% of the results; I embraced the chicken course, watched all of the episodes, and immediately set about trying to improve my chicken-cooking skills. Part of the online cooking class includes, of course, advertisements for other cooking courses but also other skills related to textiles, woodworking, and more things than I can list here easily. Part of these ads included some free skills courses. Whoa! A free course? A quick browse of the available free skills courses (in the food section) revealed that there was one of particular interest to me: knife skills. I downloaded the course, and began watching immediately. The first thing in the course was an overview of knives, and also how the different knives function for different types of food. In the course of this first discussion, the chef pointed out that for many nights in one of his restaurants he could get away with just two knives, sometimes three, but to be covered for everything he might have to do in the course of the day working as a chef or just a cook on the line, he only needed four knives.

Using this model, I took a look at all of our knives and determined that for all of the things I do a combination of the European- and Asian-style knives was the way to go. My santoku knife, a chef’s knife, the big cleaver, the boning knife, and, for really thin cuts of fruits and vegetables, the nakiri knife (a luxury item, I know, but once you use it you will fall in love). All of these knives are now on one side of the knife block while the rest are all crammed on to the other side. Now that the knives are organized, the next step in my kitchen mini-reorg was to work on the spoons, whisks, spatulas, and ladles. My previous way of organizing them was buy material type into separate crocks. In one crock rested all of the tools that were made of wood (with the two metal whisks in as an exception), and in the other were all of the metal tools or anything made out of a combination of metal, plastic, or silicone. Now the crocks are separated into the tools that I use most frequently and those that I need occasionally. Tools that I rarely use live in a drawer. I have also started a reorg of the herbs and spices, moving some that were in a drawer to the rotating rack on the countertop. Stay tuned for that story.

Now that my tools are in order I can perform my journeyman cooking skills more efficiently.

“Yes, well, this is all well and good, but how is this relevant to music?” you ask.

An excellent question, to be sure, and one that I will now answer. I suppose my main point, or, thesis statement is that whatever your task or job, it will be executed more efficiently if you have not only the right tools for the job but also have your toolkit properly outfitted and ready to go. In music as in cooking, a tool is a tool, unless, of course, you are referring to a colleague as a “tool,” but that is a different discussion for different time. Now, with my fab five of knives ready to go (and really, I could do almost everything with just three, the chef, santoku, and pairing knives), I have the right tools for the job, the essential knives, the tools that are necessary, and can deal with any culinary situation in which I might find myself. Why do I have fifteen knives running around when three will do (80/20) and five will get me to the 90-95% level of what I’ll call kitchen efficiency?

This reorg was inspired, in part—OK, a large part—by a discussion I overheard at a national convention that people who play a particular instrument (for our purposes here we’ll say it is the accordion) attend every August. Here is a paraphrase of the inspiring statement, “I don’t play on accordions pitched at 415 Hz because I can’t find one that does what I want; I will only play accordions at 400 Hz.”

Giving a stranger a well-deserved Dope Slap in a public place is never a good idea, nor would giving this person a verbal dressing down on their gross arrogance (also in publc), so I just went about my business and thought to myself, “and you never will.” Just as one knife will not do everything for you, no single accordion will do exactly what you want. Each knife has, in essence, its own personality and skill set, just as each accordion does.

Of course you cannot play Argentine tango on a single-row Cajun accordion (and why would you try?), and do not even think about playing “Jole blon” (Joli blon, Jolie blonde) on a 120 bass button piano accordion (unless, of course, you are Clifton Chenier; but you get my point).

And there is no way you can spatchcock a chicken using a nakiri knife, and it might take weeks to do this with a pairing knife. And I dare you to try to julienne anything but your pinky with a cleaver. The basic precept for being a professional musician is: Show up at the right place at the right time with the right tool for the job prepared to do a good job. Same goes for cooks. By limiting yourself to one knife or one accordion (or, dare I say, one flute?), you are missing out on a lot of food or accordion music. Why would anyone want to do that?

I remain,

ymh&os,

Quantzalcoatl

Who are you? (or, Les goûts réunis en Latinoamericana)

Dear Colleague,

I was, as usual, thinking about tacos. Tacos de carne asada with tomatillo salsa and the ubiquitous signifier of Mexican food, the lime.

But what got me started thinking about tacos? I believe it was this article by Coriún Aharonián about a Latin American musical identity.

Here is the full citation:
Coriún Aharonián, “Factores de Identidad Musical Latinoamericana Tras Cinco Siglos de Conquista, Dominación y Mestizaje,” Latin American Music Review / Revista de Música Latinoamericana 15, no. 2 (October 1, 1994): 189–225.

At some point a history of the taco is in order. Today, however, I need to examine the blending of culinary cultures that become the tacos de carne asada (here is a gratuitous photo of some Anasazi beans cooked in a stone-burnished clay pot from Columbia; apparently these clay pots have been in use in what we now call Latin America for centuries).

Our tacos pictured above have beef (Spanish import), beans and corn (the Americas), cow cheese (another European import), chile peppers (the Americas), onions (Asia, 5000 BCE, but possibly growing wild on every continent at the same time), and our signifyin' lime (Southeast Asia, ca. 4000 BCE). Not shown and often included in Mexican-American style tacos and not used here are tomatoes (New World fruit). So with only two elements here from the Americas, how are these delicious entities considered so . . . Mexican, New World, non-European? As in Aharonián's article, how do you give one single identity to Latin American musics when there are so many contributing factors and after five centuries of blending, is such a thing even possible?

After Columbus got lost and crashed into the Caribbean (quite a bit off from his original destination), the so-called Columbian Exchange began: the boundless exchange of plants, animals, cultures, and people (also known as slaves) between the Americas, Africa, Europe, and Asia.

People gotta eat and will eat what is available to them. Spaniards brought cows (and cheese) to Mexico, and probably citrus and onions. Hey, why don't we try some of these corn things, mix it with some beans, add some flavor with these chiles, and throw some meat and cheese on it? So that is Mexican food, a combination of European, Asian, and Native ingredients. Latin American music works the same way. Let's take one of our favorite Iberian composers, Santiago de Murcia. Born and active in Spain, his guitar music found its way to Mexico.  The collection includes pieces that are written in the prevailing European styles and also contains African-influenced pieces. After the Cortez mission and the establishment of Spanish culture in the area of Latin America, two particular European dances, the Sarabande and the Chaconne, came back to the Old World a little different. They were "infected" with Native particles. Are these European dances now considered Mexican?

My point (yes, I know you are stunned that I have one) is that after several centuries of blending, the imported and incorporated components of Latin American music and cuisine are now part of the musical and culinary landscapes. And for our tacos de carne asada all of their components when used in conjunction function as signifiers for Mexican food. Just as the Sarabande and Chaconne, with their ethereal New World elements, are still decidedly French.

All that is left is to pair the tacos with a French wine and call it a day.

I remain, YMH&OS,

Quantzalcoatl