And here's the funny thing, when you learn to play a song you've listened to for months, it's a lot like flinging open the wizards curtain. I must have spent 6 months on the edge of my bed learning Radiohead's Street Spirit (back when Radiohead actually had guitar parts to learn). At first there's a sense of wonder that with your own fingers you can get a piece of wood to make the same sounds as your favorite band. And then comes a mild disappointment. That Street Spirit, one of the most beautiful songs ever, the turning point of Radiohead's sound, was just an Am, an Em, and a C with some hammer-ons thrown in, is just kind of... anti-climatic.
But this is how you learn how music works. By playing a song yourself, you get a glimpse of the underlying structure of sound, of the relationship between tones and intervals. Disappointment is replaced with the respect of an amateur tinkerer towards a master craftsman.
This experience of peeking behind the curtain can be had within any art-form. Sumo wrestling just looks like two fat guys having a shoving match to me, but I'm told by the afficionados that there is unimaginable technique and depths once you get to know the sport. And I believe them.
And today I want to encourage all of you to throw back the curtain on something we deal with everyday. Professionally made food. Much like a polished album (like OK Computer) a professional piece of food will arrive in your hands as if it had never been anything but complete. You look at the perfectly formed pastries behind the cafe counter, or the impeccably presented appetizer at a chain restaurant, and it seems like something far beyond your comprehension. So we eat them, enjoy them, and don't dwell on the fact that these foods were all at some point formed from a messy raw ingredient.
So here's what I invite you to do this week. Think about one of your favorite professionally made foods. One of those things you really have no idea what goes into, but that you enjoy. For me, it was the blueberry scones that I sometimes get from Starbucks.
As I've mentioned before, we're living in the matrix now, and if you can think it, someone has done a tutorial on how to do it. And sure enough, I found this great video about how to make flaky, delicious blueberry scones.The tricks of the trade will surprise you in their simplicity. To stop the butter melting prematurely you freeze it first and shred it. Same with the blueberries. THAT'S how you get the blueberries to cook whole without bleeding and giving you a piece of tough blue bread. But there are some less pleasant surprises. 8 tablespoons of butter and a ton of sugar. It's not that I didn't know my Starbucks scone was full of butter and sugar, but when you're pouring in buckets of the stuff yourself you get a new appreciation of how truly junky this stuff is.
And this is the real magic of replicating your favorite pro-foods at home. You see them for what they really are; artfully produced bundles of fat and salt that target your pleasure centers like heat-seeking missiles. Of course I like scones... there's more than a candy-bar's worth of sugar in there!
This is a key point. Any food that has made it through the gauntlet of lab testing and focus groups will taste pretty damn good. If we use flavor as our only guide we will be constantly tempted towards foods that have been designed for that one dimension of palate satisfaction. But food's purpose isn't to taste good. It's to power your life so you can do the things you really care about.
But a professional food maker doesn't care about your energy levels, the accumulating fat on your body, or the mood swings that will follow consuming one of these unhealthy foods. They only care about making that sale, and that means appealing to your basest instincts, the desire for sugars, salts, and fat. The baked goods company that delivers to Starbucks will not bat an eyelash at the kilos of sugar pouring into the scone mixer. If you'll buy it, they'll make it.
And nothing will drive this point home like making it yourself. When it's you dumping a cup and a half of sugar into something that your then going to put in your and your family's body, it instantly becomes less appealing. Every bite is make just a little less sweet by the knowledge of what really went into making such a flavorful, pleasurable food. You will inevitably finish the treat thinking, "That was good, but it's the kind of thing I'd only have a few times a year." Compare this to the many people who will hit up the cafe counter every day.
Learning how things really work, be it music, sumo, or cooking, will make you a more interesting and engaged person. So please take me up on my challenge to reproduce one of those pro-foods at home this week. The experience will be an eye opener, and will probably end in you making healthier choices in the long run.
Knowledge is always a good! Even if your eyes become open to how badly you've been eating for the last few years, it's far better than ignorance. Get cooking and tell me how it goes!
