On creativity in the kitchen

& trusting your instincts

For Sunday's newsletter you can expect four no-recipe recipes using the wonderful seasonal pumpkins that are currently available.

In these improvised recipes you won’t encounter too many precise measurements or strict guidelines, rather approximations and suggestions – a sprinkle or this, a handful of that. I can assure you, this is not because I’m a lazy recipe writer. Rather, it’s a deliberate choice to create space for you, the creative cook, to smell, taste, and decide with gusto and authority how you want your food to taste. 

For now, let’s talk about creativity in the kitchen.

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Trusting your creative instinct

As a cook and fairly new food writer, I am currently in the process of developing my own template for research and recipe development. This necessarily involves considering how recipes are received and responded to by readers.

During a recent online scroll, I came upon a rather disgruntled reader who had left an angry comment on a well-known food blog. She was blaming the recipe writer for her failed sauce. According to this home cook, she had followed the very detailed recipe instructions to a tee and cooked the jus on medium heat, for five minutes. After a couple of minutes the sauce had started to bubble and hiss. After five minutes the sauce had become a ‘brown burnt sludge’. Hmmm. Odd then, that this individual did not show any initiative regarding the need to remove the smoking pan at the first sign of possible disaster. Why the passivity? What was the obstacle to action? We will never know. As far as she was concerned, her sauce was burnt, and she was out for blood! 

And there lies the problem with recipes. It’s not always the case that the details are totally comprehensive. Measurement accuracy, for example, can vary when quantities are provided in grams as well as cups. In addition, oven capacity and heat output can differ significantly, just as choice of saucepan size can affect cooking times and instructions such as ‘stir occasionally’ are open to interpretation. Let’s face it, there are so many variables that it can be difficult to create the same result as the recipe developer, much less produce a carbon copy of the pretty picture of the resulting dish, that’s often been styled within an inch of its life.

This made me think: What happened to our natural instincts as cooks, and how can creative intuition in the kitchen be reclaimed?

Like so many cooks before me, I had the privilege of first learning cooking skills from my mother. From the age of five I enjoyed assisting her in the kitchen, unwittingly observing and learning the art of instinctive cooking. The best meals of my life have been from no-recipe recipes cooked in the family kitchen. My mother did not always measure or portion ingredients, but rather, added a little of this, a pinch of that, every ingredient included according to intuition, honed by experience. 

Crucially, I learned how to cook, not only by observing, but by doing…and failing. These meals remain time capsules of nostalgia and joy and making mistakes was all part of the process.

We can start with seasonal ingredients  

Autumn, the ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’, a time of plenty and ‘ripeness to the core’ (Keats). A rich abundance of produce - apples, pears, blackberries, elderberries, rose hips, pumpkins, marrow, mushrooms, tomatoes, kale, leeks, spinach and parsnips, to name but a few - no wonder we gather for Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving Day to celebrate such bounty.

In the last few years, I have discovered, slowly but surely, that cooking in harmony with the seasons is a crucial foundation to creativity. Indeed, a delightful transformation occurred when I first embraced this way of thinking. Instead of being overwhelmed by the number of ingredient choices available, embracing the importance of seasonality ignited a newfound spirit of adaptation and experimentation. Feeling more connected to the ingredients I was using, and to the land I was inhabiting, helped me evolve not only as a cook but as a person.

I can sense a few eye rolls. Fair enough. I understand all these lofty claims may sound glib. But in this day and age of wall-to-wall uncertainty, I find a deep peace and knowledge in the certainty of the seasons. 

But how can you make the most of seasonal ingredients if you are short on time, lack confidence and feel overwhelmed by a multitude of recipe options? 

To make the most of seasonal produce, I would advise connecting with farmers, growers and purveyors at your local farmers’ market. These people are knowledgeable, committed and incredibly hard working, and will be thrilled to let you know what’s in season and how you can support their work. 

Before you hit the farmers’ market it is a good idea to focus on one or two particular dishes that you want to create. This could be soup and autumnal salad. First explore your pantry, spice rack and refrigerator so that you can incorporate any existing ingredients. Next, identify one or two seasonal gems such as pumpkin or crisp sweet apples that you can source at the market. Once you have gathered your haul it’s time to let your creativity flow. Trust your instincts and get experimenting

Of course, if you want to take seasonality to the next level, you can always grow your own. That way you can focus on the produce you prefer to consume. If you’re interested in the art of culinary gardening I would highly recommend you check out my Tiktok friend’s newsletter Carmen in the Garden.

On early recipes  

Speaking of experimentation in the kitchen -  an improvisational style of cooking is nothing new. From as early as the 4th and 5th centuries cookery books made the  presumption that the reader already had culinary knowledge which would form the  basis for adaptation. These early cookbooks featured generalized instructions to convey culinary information, rather than the more standardized and prescriptive approach of contemporary recipes. In other words, there was much more assumption than instruction. In the same way that I learned to cook alongside my mother, instruction was provided on the job. Significantly, cookbooks weren’t for the predominantly illiterate serving class, but rather for their ‘superiors’. 

Try patina as dessert: roast pine nuts, peeled and chopped nuts. Add honey, pepper, garum, milk, eggs, a little undiluted wine, and oil. Pour on to a plate. (Apicius - On the Subject of Cooking - probably fifth century CE)

The transition from early recipes to the more information-heavy formats we are used to, occurred between the 18th and 19th centuries. Initially, the change was driven by the rise of the middle class. Many home cooks, primarily women, (who did not necessarily have the same culinary skills and knowledge that were historically passed down in aristocratic households) were now responsible for managing their own households. This not only led to a growth in labor-saving devices but also the need for clear, detailed instructions on how to successfully prepare meals. 

This edition belongs to my dad who is an avid collector of old cookery books

a recipe for a Christmas pudding

Interestingly, some recipe writers are beginning to move away from formulaic recipe writing in favor of a looser, more open style. Recently, Sam Sifton of the New York Times produced a cookbook entitled "No-Recipe Recipes" which focuses on flavor combinations rather than exactitude. This approach is echoed in texts such as "The Flavor Thesaurus’.  This unique culinary reference book, authored by Niki Segnit, provides an exploration of flavor pairings as well as in-depth explanations of why certain combinations work, making it an indispensable tool for enhancing your culinary creativity and expanding your palate. I reference this treasure at least once a week. 

Recipes are also memories 

Put simply - a recipe is a set of instructions. Of course, the instructions should be reasonably accurate. If they aren’t, what is the point? But recipes are not simply instructions. Recipes are memories - moments of time contained within flavor pairings. Recipes are narratives and archives that contain deep personal histories - documents of the most personal kind.

Whether you are someone who enjoys following a recipe to a tee, or someone who  prefers to improvise, it’s crucial to look at cooking as a creative pursuit that can produce so much more than a delicious meal. In life, just as in the kitchen, our readiness to embrace failure, perhaps even spectacular ones, and yet still persevere, is the key to uncovering something truly special.  

Confronting creative doubts 

C’mon let’s get it over with. 

As creatives, it is commonplace to battle with an inner voice that condemns us with accusations that we’re not good enough, not talented enough and therefore not worthy enough, so there is no point in even trying. Often this voice will convince you that failure is the final destination. I’ve learnt over the years that this is a dirty lie. 

Before we get to the fun part of creatively cooking and experimenting in Sunday’s newsletter, I think that it is necessary to confront some of these doubts together. 

“I’m not creative.’’

Yes, you are. Creativity isn’t something you are either born with or without. It’s not only a blessing, it’s a birthright. You might not have tapped into it… yet, but it’s there, bubbling under the surface.

‘’I don’t want to mess up.’’

How can you learn if you don’t experiment? Recipes are suggestions, not commands. I am not telling you how to cook. Take every word with a proverbial pinch of salt; discovery and understanding can only be realized through trial and error. You must find what works for you. Don’t take my word for it. 

‘’But I don’t have time to experiment with food. I work late/I’ve got a family to feed/I am too stressed/I barely have time to read this.’’

Don’t let function interrupt joy. So much of life is out of our control. We have jobs we can’t stand, bosses who undermine us, unexpected health issues, financial obligations, tight schedules and duties. Instead of dreading the evening meal or succumbing to wasting money on an insipid room temperature take-out burger, allow yourself to use cookery as a way of reclaiming your autonomy, your creativity and yourself. 

I don’t care if you’re a chef or someone who has never so much as boiled an egg, cooking is an essential part of self-care so don’t leave yourself with the proverbial crumbs. In fact, speaking of chefs, they are notoriously the worst. Skipping lunch and dinner in favor of leftover scraps and a few Red Bulls is commonplace. Obviously this doesn’t apply to ALL chefs, but I do know a few that get by on the odd spoonful of sauce and wolfed down family meal.

Finally, learn to trust your instincts

So, in conclusion, if you tend to doubt your culinary instincts, think again! You were born with intuition and that capacity can be increased with practise, no matter what stage your cooking is at. Honestly, it matters not if tonight's supper consists of a can of baked beans and a piece of stale bread, you can still add a little chili pepper to the beans to liven them up, or fry the bread in a little fat to add texture? 

And as for those ‘mistakes’, so what if you accidentally brown the butter so that light brown flecks appear in your béchamel sauce, it deepens the flavor!  And what about adding the juice AND zest of two lemons instead of just one to your citrus no-bake cheesecake. It adds a lovely astringency doesn’t it? 

The potential for innovation that comes from embracing failure is invaluable. This is true for a cook, a scientist, homemaker, artist or politician.

So, be an explorer; a seeker willing to travel to parts unknown. Yes, that's the spirit. You may be surprised where this will lead.

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See you on Sunday! Get your pumpkins ready, we’re getting creative in the kitchen.

Sarah x