It's entirely fitting that I start this essay addressing the question, “what does it mean to cook food well?” with one of my favorite William S. Burroughs quotes: “Hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside”. I could practically end this futile act of writer's desperation right here. It says pretty much...everything...in a nutshell. And we're not talking grill marks either. This is something deep and personal, existential even. I mean, why do anything well? Hell, the ancients tried to address this important philosophical quandary way back when Socrates was fondling Plato behind the Parthenon. Fast-forward to a more modern Phadrus, in Robert Pirsig's metaphysical meltdown, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance for a decidedly schizophrenic, yet correct, interpretation of these matters.

Taking this a step further, does this question really have anything to do with food particularly? I'm going to go out on a limb and say, “no!”.  Perhaps because I'm an artist and an obsessed cook, I see all these roguish endeavors as really one in the same - a unity in distinction, but a unity nonetheless. Why struggle for years to perfect a proper biriyani or, for that matter, find a cure for cancer? There are the obvious answers: pleasing your customers, your audience, saving lives, making people happy. These may be necessary conditions on the road to cooking, bowling, or tap dancing well, but they'll never suffice. Besides, there will always be some critic (the lowest wombat of a species, by the way - apologies to wombats) or worse ...some vegan... eagerly waiting in shadows to mug and malign your obvious genius.

Whether adored or reviled, there is but one critic that ever really counts - ourselves. Yes, even the self-delusional, and aren't we all, know somewhere deep down inside our distended guts whether we've truly succeeded or failed - and isn't that eternally provisional judgment only ours to make, really? Who else could ever, with true authority, claim jurisdiction over life's home plate call but ourselves - and our wives (but I digress).

So, what about cooking well? There is only one truly essential reason to endeavor to do so: because you NEED to - because you have been bitten and are now afflicted with some epicure's venereal disease, the likes of which now compels you to do highly irrational, life-threatening feats (like pressure cooking).

As one esteemed (and quite tall) writer "confided" (hint, hint); chefs, like skilled hustlers, can and do get away with murder. There is no practical reason to thwart that rather expedient practice. There is only a personal one - the drive to create, to improve, and to perfect according to ideals only chefs themselves can truly define. The best chefs, like the best musicians and artist since time immemorial, have always sought to raise the bar toward the sky, answering primarily to themselves, trying to beat that mark - yes, the one inside.