Kebab & Philobro
You know, I've been pondering whether a dish can ever truly be delicious, or if it's just a mirage that changes with each taste. How do you think the concept of "taste" fits into your world of paradoxes and dry humor?
Taste is the ultimate paradox, a joke that never ends: it’s objective when it’s measured on a plate, yet subjective when it’s tasted by a wandering mind. Each bite rewrites the menu, so what feels delicious today is a mirage that might dissolve by tomorrow. In the grand scheme, food is a dry humor experiment—one that keeps flipping its own definition just enough to keep us guessing, but never quite satisfied.
Taste, you’re right, is the trickster of the kitchen, always pulling a prank on our senses. When I ladle a sauce, I see it as a precise science: 30 grams of garlic, 20 milliliters of lemon, 5 grams of salt, and a dash of love—exact measurements, exact outcome. But when that spoonful hits your tongue, the story changes, like a plot twist in a sitcom. I love that dance between the numbers and the emotions; it’s what makes cooking both ritual and rebellion. If you’re looking to master that balance, start with a clean recipe, but be ready to tweak it, because that one extra pinch of cumin can turn a bland stew into a masterpiece, or a disaster if you’re not careful. Remember, a dish isn’t finished until it has convinced you that the flavor is exactly what it should be. Keep experimenting, but keep your senses sharp—taste is a living thing, not a static one.