"There are Only Eight Notes, Karen"

I do not, by any stretch of the imagination, think that I am especially musically inclined. It's no secret, however, that I love music. I made it a point, from a very young age, to hear as much live music as I possibly could. At many times, I surrounded myself with musical types who understood far more about the craft than I ever will. In doing these things, I began, after a time, to hear subtleties I used to miss. I started to pick up some things from them. I'll likely never be a musician, but I can at least claim to be somewhat of an academic listener. I like to think I get it.

Not too long ago, I had a piano lesson during which I was to work on a specific phrase the instructor assigned to me. I thought I was oh-so-clever when I made the observation aloud that the melody he had me working on was made up of the same notes of another very well known tune...only the timing was slightly different. I suppose I secretly wanted to be congratulated on having "gotten it", but instead, the experienced and world-weary instructor just sighed and said, "There are only eight notes, Karen", meaning, over time, with all of the music that has been written and will continue to be written, we are bound to repeat some phrasing. Like, DUH, Karen.

And so it is with cooking.

I made a dish called Zweibel Rostbraten this evening. You might guess that this recipe hails from the Germanic part of the world and you might be right. Thin steaks are flash-seared with aromatic fried onions and accented with a tangy sauce. As I really looked hard at the recipe just before commencing my prep work, I thought to myself that this looked a lot like Steak Diane, sans mushrooms.

The finished Zweibel Rostbraten did, in fact, also taste a lot like Steak Diane. I have now been working with food just long enough to see that cooking is a lot like music. There are only so many notes. Recipes, like songs, are bound to be similar, even derivative at times.

I am not saying this in a spirit of mourning. On the contrary, in both crafts, music and cooking, the finished product can still be artful and wonderful, even if it has a close cousin you might recognize. Furthermore, how it is played, or how it is made, can make all the difference. If you've ever heard the fifth grade recorder orchestra play Flight of the Bumblebee and then heard a world class symphony do the same piece, then you know what I am talking about. Whether you see it as "God is in the details" or "the devil is in the details", it is tough to dispute that the details do, indeed, matter.

And don't our ears jump for joy when there is some new song that just grabs us??
And don't we rave to anyone who will listen when we try some new dish that is a wonderfully delicious surprise?

Deep down, we know we can do a lot with a little and that is what makes us seek out, and appreciate the really good stuff.