Today, I am asked a question. A simple one, but I’m not sure I know the answer. And even if I get it right, I’m not sure why it is so.
Head chef, María José San Román, who holds a Michelin star, is testing cooking times for rice.
She calls me over, and holds out me two spoonfuls of rice for me to try.
Which do I like best?
This one? Or this one?
It’s a simple question, and María José beams back at me, like an eager school teacher, waiting for her pupil to answer correctly.
It’s Day 19 of the 100 Day Chef Stage, during which I’ve learnt learnt how to style food, how to blow torch Torrijas and got a taste about what chef life is really like.
Today, is about precision. It’s about attention to the tiniest of details, examining the details through a macro-lens. After all, it’s only when you apply yourself like this, can you truly advance your skills.
“Which one is best?”
Such an easy question, but I’m not sure I know how to answer.
Both spoonfuls of rice are delicious, and that is where my critical mind stops, somewhere in the word “delicious.”
Unlike María José, I can not discern the small differences.
“One rice has been cooked for 16 minutes,” she explains, “the other for 17 minutes.”
Only one minute difference, but when you are searching for precision, then the seconds count.
Rather like the accuracy you need with a judo technique. Place your supporting foot a centimetre off centre, just one centimetre and the technique loses alignment and balance.
This I can see. At a glance, I can see when a judo throw is perfectly executed, when there is precision and when the technique is slightly off.
Just like María José knows without doubt which is the better rice.
I take my chances, which at 50:50 aren’t bad, and choose the second spoonful.
“Yes!” She nods enthusiastically (phew!) “Yes, yes! This rice is perfect. Look! Look at the other one.”
She points to the grains, and reveals why.
“It’s almost done, but look closer…”
Cutting through a grain, she points to the kernel.
I peer at the grain, and then I see it.
Right in the middle, the grain of rice is whiter, slightly harder.
It is ever so slightly undercooked.
When rice cooks, gelatinisation occurs; liquid is absorbed, the starch molecules flatten, become translucent, until eventually the grain deforms, and bursts.
At this moment, starch is released into the paella, which becomes gluey and stodgy; the rice is overcooked.
Most of use would notice stodgy overcooked rice, just like we would hard undercooked rice.
But, we are talking about a smaller window than that, here.
As we get more precise, we need an expert to help us see the detail.
When gymnast Simone Biles is flying and twisting through the air, who of us would be able to see the tiny differences that make the move perfect?
I’m sure there are people reading this ;-) who can. My mum, for one. But my mum spent the good part of five decades as an International Brevet Gymnastic judge, judging at three Olympic Games, mastering her art.
The rest of us would just see it as spectacular, we’d be unable to differentiate within the range of “spectacular.”
But it is this refinement, that separates the greatest from the great, the genius from the talent, the crème de la crème.
And so it goes in the hospitality industry too, as chefs world wide search to refine their recipes.
Excellence is measured with the smallest of details.
Can a minute make a difference?
It sure can, when you are cooking a paella.
María José is looking for that minute (or second even), just before the grain or rice bursts, but when each grain has absorbed its maximum volume in stock and so has the most flavour possible.
Advice on a packet of paella rice, suggests this happens anywhere between 15 and 20 minutes.
But María José has narrowed that down, testing times and temperatures, as well as methods and equipment.
And the Queen of Rices, is very clear on this:
The time to perfectly cooked paella rice:
17 minutes, and not a minute less.
Mucho trabajo para buscar la perfección. 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻