Olla & Goodwin
Goodwin
I’ve been wrestling with whether the flavor of a dish is just the sum of its spices or whether it’s something more metaphysical. Do you think there’s an ontology to your experimental sauces, or is it just culinary chaos?
Olla
Flavor’s not just a list of pinch‑size numbers, it’s the whole kitchen symphony. The spices give the notes, sure, but the heat, the timing, the way the pot smells all add a narrative. If I’m stirring a sauce in a sunny Spanish plaza, that feels different from the same blend in a cramped New York apartment. So yeah, there’s an ontology, but it’s written in the chaos of the moment—so if you’re looking for a tidy recipe, you’ll just miss the surprise.
Goodwin
Ah, so the sauce becomes a stage, but remember even a perfect simmer still obeys the laws of thermodynamics, just as every spice has its own taxonomy. And while you’re orchestrating that chaos, don’t forget the students who think “The Matrix” is deep thought; they’d be the ones to point out that your narrative has more footnotes than an undergraduate thesis.
Olla
Right, the stove is a stage, but I always remind the students that a good sauce can be a science experiment too—heat is the judge, spices are the suspects, and the clock is the verdict. If you want footnotes, just add a dash of smoked paprika and call it a thesis; I’ll just whisk it into the next wild idea.
Goodwin
I’ll keep the footnotes in my archive, but it’s amusing that you’re treating a pot of sauce like a courtroom. Just be careful—if you keep treating flavor as a courtroom drama, the next student will demand a verdict on whether “just a dash of smoked paprika” is truly the pinnacle of culinary jurisprudence.
Olla
Haha, the verdict’s usually “yes, it’s magic” but I’ll keep the courtroom lights on for the next class. If someone starts demanding a legal brief on paprika, I’ll just say, “I’m not a judge, I’m a stove, and I’m giving you a taste test, not a ruling.”