New foodies have something in common with aspiring poets. They become so thrilled with all the myriad possibilities of their preferred art that they end up overdoing everything. While it's true that there are enough herbs, spices and curious seasonings in the world to experiment for a lifetime without ever exhausting all the possibilities, that doesn't mean it's advisable to pile on the flavors in any given dish. Often times the true greatness of a food is apparent in its simplest iterations.
Take steak, for instance. There are as many things one can do with a cut of beef as there are stars in the sky, but I challenge anyone, whether chef or lay-person, to prepare a steak dish that is superior to the pan-seared filet. I'm not even talking about those decadent, bacon-wrapped, garlic-butter-topped ornaments served in expensive restaurants. I'm referring to that steak made premium by its own inherent virtues. The filet is good not because it can be butterflied and drowned in Bearnaise sauce. It's good because it is naturally tender and it is perfectly marbled. It has a bare minimum of connective tissue and absolutely no bone with which to contend. All this cut of meat needs is salt, pepper and heat. In my opinion, doing anything else to it is needlessly fussy.
The same can be said for salmon. It's fast becoming America's favorite fish and it's easy to see why. Salmon is flavorful, healthy and it carries a delightful color. I'm just beginning to discover the beauty of this swimmer, not out of willful ignorance, but unfortunate circumstance. I grew up in the Midwest where fresh fish is practically non-existent. When it comes to fish the difference between fresh and everything else is enough to turn someone off to the stuff for life. Those people fortunate enough to live near a significant amount of water have the option to embrace the culinary delights of fish at its full potential. Given a fresh catch, even the least skilled cook can make a restaurant-quality salmon filet given tin foil, butter, citrus and a grill or oven. The sauces, salsas and garnishes can stay in the Midwest where they're needed to cover up the unpleasant flavor of an old fish.
Even vegetarian dishes benefit from simplicity. My favorite of them all is hummus. This lovely stuff can be found in practically every culture that touches the Mediterranean Sea and it's easier than pie to make. All it takes are some chickpeas, tahini and olive oil sharing space in a blender. It can be augmented with varying degrees of garlic, lemon juice, salt, pepper and other spices, all to taste. Done right, the whole process takes less than five minutes and the result is a versatile spread that makes everything it touches taste better.
So, while I can understand the appeal of complicated dishes with long lists of very particular ingredients, I don't really see them as being anything more than novelties of cuisine. Real lovers of food live by simplicity. If it needs something extra, it's probably not good enough to put on your plate.
